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viously should not have introduced to you, or to anyone. Now I will not listen to another word on the subject, my dear Pamela. It is very late, and you look thoroughly tired. Go to bed, like a good child. Good night, my dear. You will realise what a silly little girl you are to take such a thing seriously in the morning.”

Argument was impossible then. She was incapable of it herself, even if Aunt Sophia would have permitted it. Pamela went to her room without another word, and slept less than she had ever done in all her healthy young life.

She got up earlier than usual, her brain clearer and calmer, and arranged her plan of campaign as she dressed, sending away her maid, that she might think uninterrupted. With a nature essentially sweet and childlike, Pamela was still by no means lacking in decision, and she opened fire again before Aunt Sophia had quite finished her breakfast.

“I have written to Archie, Aunt Sophia, to ask him to come here this morning, and tell us exactly all he knows about—Mr. Ste. Croix. And will you please tell me now all about Aunt Adelaide and her husband, and the baby.”

“It is not a subject we have ever cared to talk about, as I told you last night, and I see no more reason to enlighten you now than I did when you were much younger.”

“I think I should have been told years ago. As it is, I must know now.”

There was no indecision in Pamela’s voice, and the blue eyes were surprisingly hard. Aunt Sophia, who was far more uneasy than she had any intention of showing, was angry too.

“I have always done my best to keep you young, Pamela,” she said coldly, “but I did not dream that you would behave so childishly as this. I shall see Archie myself, as I consider it very wrong of him to make himself responsible for a man he apparently knows nothing about, and there is