"Why don't you try a younger governess, for a change?" he went on, undeterred. "Wilder is so old and sort of set."

Mrs. Bryce closed her book with irritated finality.

"Wally, I will give you a chance at running our darling child for the rest of this summer. I declare a strike! You get her governesses, you donate your society to her. You've got nothing to do. She may keep you out of mischief."

"Oh, I say, I don't want to b.u.t.t in, I only thought----"

"She's yours. I'm through until September first."

There was an uproar from below, louder than before. Wally looked out.

"I wonder what they're up to," he said.

A maid, red and fl.u.s.tered, appeared at the door.

"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, please come down to the party. Isabelle ran away with Patsy and we've just found her."

Mrs. Bryce, oblivious of her costume, followed Mr. Bryce and the maid down the stairs, as fast as possible. Evidently a crisis had occurred below. All the girls in their white dresses and pink or blue sashes, all the boys in their white collars of ceremony, were grouped about on the lawn, around the base of a big shade tree. Pink hair bows were a-flutter with excitement. The patent leather pumps of the boys trod upon the white slippers of the little girls in their efforts to see what was happening.

At the foot of the tree stood Miss Wilder red and tired, speaking sternly to some one overhead. Mr. and Mrs. Bryce rushed to join her, brushing children aside.

"What is the matter, Miss Wilder?" demanded Mrs. Bryce.

"Oh, Mrs. Bryce, she's--she's----"

"Isabelle Bryce, come down here this moment," commanded her mother, loudly.

There was a whispered colloquy overhead, among the branches.

"That wretched Patsy is with her," wailed Miss Wilder. "They ran away, and hid for hours, and then we found them up here."

"Isabelle!" shouted her father.

"All right. We're going to drop," said a voice from above.

Suddenly two white and shining little bodies hung side by side from a limb, then two naked youngsters dropped into the midst of the astounded party.

"Isabelle Bryce!" gasped her mother.

"We're playing barbarian," said Isabelle, coolly; "Miss Wilder told me about them."

"Miss Wilder!" protested Wally.

"But I didn't--I mean--I----"

"You said they lived in trees and never wore clothes."

The children began to t.i.tter.

"This is your affair, I believe, Wally," remarked Mrs. Bryce, and she walked in a leisurely way into the house.

"Oh, I say," he called after her; then: "Get her indoors, will you?

Who's the boy?"

"The gardener's child, Patsy."

"Where are your clothes?" he demanded.

"Up in the tree, sorr," said the boy.

"Get them, and cut home," said Wally, severely.

Patsy obeyed, but Isabelle resisted force. "I won't hurry and I won't be carried, I'll walk," said she, and--properly clad in her "birthday clothes"--Isabelle Bryce disposed of her first party!

CHAPTER TWO

Following upon the exit of his daughter came the realization to Wally that something must be done about the "party." He turned to the group of children, huddled together in horror, like b.u.t.terflies in a rain storm.

Serious and large-eyed, they focussed their attention upon him, in the apparent belief that, being a parent, he would be able to handle this unprecedented situation. They ranged in age from three to six; they were the children of his neighbours and life-long a.s.sociates; and yet Wally had the feeling that he was hemmed in by a pack of alert, curious little animals.

"Well, children," he managed to say, "I'm sorry that Isabelle was such a naughty girl at her own party, but she is only four years old, we must remember, and I suppose she did not know any better."

"I'm free an' a half, an' I don't take off my cloves at a party,"

bragged one of the female infants.

"No, I'm sure you don't. It isn't done," said Wally, helplessly.

"She always spoils parties. I wanted not to have her at mine, but mother made me," remarked Tommy Page.

"Hard luck, old man," said Wally.

"She always wants to boss everything," Margie Hunter complained.

"Are you going to whip her?" demanded another child.

"She will be punished, believe me," replied Wally, firmly. "But I think we'd better call the party over."

"We can't go yet, the nurses and chauffeurs haven't come," Tommy protested. "I'd like to hear her yell when she's licked."

"Our man will take you all home in the big station wagon, so get on your hats," Wally ordered.

Fifteen minutes later the smallest child was packed in, with one of the maids in command, and the motor slid off down the drive, leaving Wally on the door step.

"Little beasts!" he remarked, feelingly.