ock.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bryce, but Isabelle refuses to be dressed for the
party. She says she won't go."

"Come in," called the voice.

The governess opened the door and entered. It was a hot day, and Mrs.
Bryce, in a cool neglige, lay stretched out on a _chaise longue_, with a
pitcher of something iced beside her, a book open on her lap. She was
the picture of luxurious comfort, except for the frown upon her pretty
brow.

"Why don't you make her behave, Miss Wilder?"

"I do my best, Mrs. Bryce, but she is very difficult," the older woman
sighed.

"Of course she's difficult--she's a brat! But that is what I have you
for, to teach her some manners, and make her act like a civilized being.
Where is she?"

"She ran away when I tried to put her dress on her."

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

"I thought you might order her to get dressed."

"Much good it would do! I don't see why I have to be bothered with it. I
didn't want the party; it's a perfect nuisance, cluttering up the place
with noisy kids; but she owes it to them, and she has to have them here
once a season."

A small, determined figure appeared at the door, in a brief petticoat
and socks.

"I won't go to that party," she announced.

"Come here to me this instant," exploded her mother at sight of her.

The child walked slowly to her mother's side, with disconcerting
dignity, all out of proportion to her four brief years.

"What do you mean by acting like this when I give you a birthday party?
There is everything on earth ordered to eat, and all the children in the
colony are asked to come and play with you, and you make a monkey of
yourself."

"I won't go."

"Why won't you go?"

"You didn't ask Patsy."

"You can't ask that common little Irishman to a _party_," objected her
parent.

"I won't go. He's my friend. I like him best, an' if he don't come, I
won't go."

"But it's _your_ party----"

"I hate 'em."

"You ought to whip her!" Mrs. Bryce said to the governess.

A maid appeared at the door to announce the first arrivals.

"Now, you see, your guests are coming, and you aren't even dressed."

"I won't go," reiterated the child, sullenly.

"If we ask Patsy, will you go?" asked Mrs. Bryce desperately.

"No--o; yes."

"Put on her clothes, Miss Wilder, and telephone the Lodge that Isabelle
wants Patsy for her party."

"But, Mrs. Bryce, do you think we ought to humour her? Will not the
children's mothers object to Patsy