her god-son Jean. It proved rather a surprise. She read it twice. It was
undeniably a love-letter. In it he told her--that he adored her in a
great many ways and a great many times. He had known all along that she
was not old, and now that he saw how young she was, how lovely . . . it
went on and on. He wished to address her father at once, and ask her
hand in marriage. He enclosed a photograph of himself; he was quite good
looking. It was a thrilling letter, but it took her breath away. How
could he know she was young and lovely?

She answered it instantly, tearing up many sheets of paper in the
process. She assured him that he was mistaken, that she was too old to
think of marriage, even if she loved him--which she could not say she
did, because she didn't know him. Her father was long since dead, so he
could not address him, etc., etc. In short, unless he could think of her
as his devoted _marraine_ they must end the correspondence, there and
then.

She despatched it at once, with a resolve to handle "her son Jean" with
more restraint in the future. Needless to say she did not mention the
letter to Agnes, whose overtures to peace she had finally accepted.

* * * * *

Life went on its interesting way. Captain O'Leary made his peace with
her, too, and lost it again. Major O'Dell acted as intermediary in their
battles. He was delightful, in this capacity, but he would not tell any
more about the coat. He said he would see that it was returned to her,
but that it might take some time.

The next letter from Jean Jacques Petard was a flaming torch of passion.
She might as well drop her disguise. He knew her for her true self. He
loved her madly; he read her love, in the cold lines she forced her pen
to write. One word of love from her and he would come. He was on
convalescent leave and at her service.

She was really alarmed now. Nothing but the impossibility of getting a
cable sent kept her from that extravagance. She wrote him at length. It
was all a mistake. She admitted that she was young. She told him that
she did not love him, and that--deeply grateful though she was for his
beautiful devotion--she felt that this must be her last communication to
him. She added, in the hope of putting an end to his letters, that she
was about to leave Bermuda. With a sigh of relief she posted this
dismissal, and at that moment she ceased to be _marraine_ to Jean and
Edouard. It was t