We were struck dumb with amazement by this astounding proposition.
"I guess you are a lunatic!" I said. "But even lunatics ought to have a chance to explain themselves. Go on."
"Oh, I know it sounds foolish," returned the Imp, "but, after all, is it any more foolish than the possibility that our Louis may be a descendant of a king of France? Just think what that means. Suppose there are a lot of discontented descendants of royalists in France, who are dissatisfied with the present form of government. And suppose that they hear there is a direct descendant of Louis XVI now living. Wouldn't it be a lovely chance to get up a secret insurrection in his favor and so restore him to the throne? It wouldn't be the first time that a republic has been overthrown in that country, if you remember. And if this Monsieur happens to be a Bourbon relation, he'd be all the more interested."
Just then Carol gave a gasp, and cried out:
"Yes, and do you remember the way that first cablegram commenced? 'Time almost ripe'! I always did think that was queer."
"Exactly what I said," continued the Imp. "And what do you suppose Monsieur is twiddling his thumbs around Paradise Green for? Just because Louis isn't falling in with his plans as nicely as he'd hoped. I'll warrant Monsieur has been horribly disappointed from the first, because Louis was so thoroughly American and didn't take a scrap of interest in his French affairs. He sees plainly that Louis isn't going to be easy to handle. And if Louis won't stand for this restoration business, then 'the fat's in the fire.' That's what's bothering Monsieur. And he's waiting around to see if he can't win Louis over unconsciously somehow. At least, that's how I've figured it out."
We couldn't help but agree with her, and wondered that we'd never thought of it by ourselves. Besides, the more we thought of it, the more we remembered dozens of little incidents that seem to confirm it. If we all weren't so busy pegging away at our exams, and so had more time to think about this, I feel sure that we could come to some definite conclusion about it, but as matters stand, I, for one, am too bewildered to know what to think.
And Louis goes about as happy as a lark, unconscious of it all!
June 29, 1914. Examinations are over at last, and I'm thankful to say that we all passed, except that Carol has a "condition" in mathematics that she'll have to make up during the summer. Anyhow, it's over, and we can breathe more freely and look forward to vacation.