To sit beside a river on a golden afternoon listening to its whispered
melody, while the air about one is fragrant with summer, and heavy with
the drone of unseen wings!--What ordinary mortal could wish for more?
And yet, though conscious of this fair world about me, I was still
uncontent, for my world was incomplete--nay, lacked its most essential
charm, and I sat with my ears on the stretch, waiting for Lisbeth's
chance footstep on the path and the soft whisper of her skirts.
The French are indeed a great people, for among many other things they
alone have caught that magic sound a woman's garments make as she
walks, and given it to the world in the one word "frou-frou."
O wondrous word! O word sublime! How full art thou of delicate
suggestion! Truly, there can be no sweeter sound to ears masculine
upon a golden summer afternoon--or any other time, for that
matter--than the soft "frou-frou" that tells him SHE is coming.
At this point my thoughts were interrupted by something which hurtled
through the air and splashed into the water at my feet. Glancing at
this object, I recognised the loud-toned cricket cap affected by the
Imp, and reaching for it, I fished it out on the end of my rod. It was
a hideous thing of red, white, blue, and green--a really horrible
affair, and therefore much prized by its owner, as I knew.
Behind me the bank rose some four or five feet, crowned with willows
and underbrush, from the other side of which there now came a
prodigious rustling and panting. Rising to my feet therefore, I parted
the leaves with extreme care, and beheld the Imp himself.
He was armed to the teeth--that is to say, a wooden sword swung at his
thigh, a tin bugle depended from his belt, and he carried a bow and
arrow. Opposite him was another boy, particularly ragged at knee and
elbow, who stood with hands thrust into his pockets and grinned.
"Base caitiff, hold!" cried the Imp, fitting an arrow to the string:
"stand an' deliver! Give me my cap, thou varlet, thou!" The boy's grin
expanded.
"Give me my cap, base slave, or I'll shoot you--by my troth!" As he
spoke the Imp aimed his arrow, whereupon the boy ducked promptly.
"I ain't got yer cap," he grinned from the shelter of his arm. "It's
been an' gone an' throwed itself into the river!" The Imp let fly his
arrow, which was answered by a yell from the Base Varlet.
"Yah!" he cried derisively as the Imp drew his sword with a
melodramatic flourish. "Yah! put down that stick an' I'll fight yer."
The Imp indignantly repudiated his trusty weapon being called "a
stick"--"an' I don't think," he went on, "that Robin Hood ever fought
without his sword. Let's see what the book says," and he drew a very
crumpled paper-covered volume from his pocket, which he consulted with
knitted brows, while the Base Varlet watched him, open-mouthed.
"Oh, yes," nodded the Imp; "it's all right. Listen to this!" and he
read as follows in a stern, deep voice:
"'Then Robin tossed aside his trusty blade, an' laying bare his knotted
arm, approached the dastardly ruffian with many a merry quip and jest,
prepared for the fierce death-grip.'"
Hereupon the Imp laid aside his book and weapons and proceeded to roll
up his sleeve, having done which to his satisfaction, he faced round
upon the Base Varlet.
"Have at ye, dastardly ruffian!" he cried, and therewith ensued a
battle, fierce and fell.
If his antagonist had it in height, the Imp made up for it in
weight--he is a particularly solid Imp--and thus the struggle lasted
for some five minutes without any appreciable advantage to either,
when, in eluding one of the enemy's desperate rushes, the Imp stumbled,
lost his balance, and next moment I had caught him in my arms. For a
space "the enemy" remained panting on the bank above, and then with
another yell turned and darted off among the bushes.
"Hallo, Imp!" I said.
"Hallo, Uncle Dick!" he returned.
"Hurt?" I inquired.
"Wounded a bit in the nose, you know," he answered, mopping that organ
with his handkerchief; "but did you see me punch 'yon varlet' in the
eye?"
"Did you, Imp?"
"I think so, Uncle Dick; only I do wish I'd made him surrender. The
book says that Robin Hood always made his enemies 'surrender an' beg
their life on trembling knee!' Oh, it must be fine to see your enemies
on their knee!"
"Especially if they tremble," I added.
"Do you s'pose that boy--I mean 'yon base varlet' would have
surrendered?"
"Not a doubt of it--if he hadn't happened to push you over the bank
first."
"Oh!" murmured the Imp rather dubiously.
"By the way," I said as I filled my pipe, "where is your Auntie
Lisbeth?"
"Well, I chased her up the big apple-tree with my bow an' arrow."
"Of course," I nodded. "Very right and proper!"
"You see," he explained, "I wanted her to be a wild elephant an' she
wouldn't."
"Extremely disobliging of her!"
"Yes, wasn't it? So when she was right up I took away the ladder an'
hid it."
"Highly strategic, my Imp."
"So then I turned into Robin Hood. I hung my cap on a bush to shoot
at, you know, an' 'the Base Varlet' came up an' ran off with it."
"And there it is," I said, pointing to where it lay. The Imp received
it with profuse thanks, and having wrung out the water, clapped it upon
his curls and sat down beside me.
"I found another man who wants to be me uncle," he began.
"Oh, indeed?"
"Yes; but I don't want any more, you know."
"Of course not. One like me suffices for your every-day needs--eh, my
Imp?"
The Imp nodded. "It was yesterday," he continued. "He came to see
Auntie Lisbeth, an' I found them in the summer-house in the orchard.
An' I heard him say, 'Miss Elizbeth, you're prettier than ever!"
"Did he though, confound him!"
"Yes, an then Auntie Lisbeth looked silly, an' then he saw me behind a
tree an' he looked silly, too, Then he said, 'Come here, little man!'
An' I went, you know, though I do hate to be called 'little man.' Then
he said he'd give me a shilling if I'd call him Uncle Frank."
"And what did you answer?"
"'Fraid I'm awfull' wicked," sighed the Imp, shaking his head, "'cause
I told him a great big lie."
"Did you, Imp?"
"Yes. I said I didn't want his shilling, an' I do, you know, most
awfully, to buy a spring pistol with."
"Oh, well, we'll see what can be done about the spring pistol," I
answered. "And so you don't like him, eh?"
"Should think not," returned the Imp promptly. "He's always so--so
awfull' clean, an' wears a little moustache with teeny sharp points on
it.
"Any one who does that deserves all he gets," I said, shaking my head.
"And what is his name?"
"The Honourable Frank Selwyn, an' he lives at Selwyn Park--the next
house to ours."
"Oho!" I exclaimed, and whistled.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp, breaking in upon a somewhat unpleasant train
of thought conjured up by this intelligence, "will you come an' be
'Little-John under the merry greenwood tree? Do?"
"Why what do you know about 'the merry greenwood,' Imp?"
"Oh lots!" he answered, hastily pulling out the tattered book. "This is
all about Robin Hood an' Little-John. Ben, the gardener's boy, lent it
to me. Robin Hood was a fine chap an' so was Little-John an' they used
to set ambushes an' capture the Sheriff of Nottingham an' all sorts of
caddish barons, an' tie them to trees.
"My Imp," I said, shaking my head, "the times are sadly changed. One
cannot tie barons--caddish or otherwise--to trees in these degenerate
days."
"No, I s'pose not," sighed the Imp dolefully; "but I do wish you would
be Little-John, Uncle Dick."
"Oh, certainly, Imp, if it will make you any happier; though of a
truth, bold Robin," I continued after the manner of the story books,
"Little-John hath a mind to bide awhile and commune with himself here;
yet give but one blast upon thy bugle horn and thou shalt find my arm
and quarter-staff ready and willing enough, I'll warrant you!"
"That sounds awfull' fine, Uncle Dick, only--you haven't got a
quarter-staff, you know."
"Yea, 'tis here!" I answered, and detached the lower joint of my
fishing rod. The Imp rose, and folding his arms, surveyed me as Robin
Hood himself might have done--that is to say, with an 'eye of fire.'
"So be it, my faithful Little-John," quoth he; "meet me at the Blasted
Oak at midnight. An' if I shout for help--I mean blow my bugle--you'll
come an' rescue me, won't you, Uncle Dick?"
"Ay; trust me for that," I answered, all unsuspecting.
"'Tis well!" nodded the Imp; and with a wave of his hand he turned and
scrambling up the bank disappeared. Of the existence of Mr. Selwyn I
was already aware, having been notified in this particular by the
Duchess, as I have told in the foregoing narrative. Now, a rival in
air--in the abstract, so to speak--is one thing, but a rival who was on
a sufficiently intimate footing to deal in personal compliments, and
above all, one who was already approved of and encouraged by the powers
that be, in the person of Lady Warburton--Lisbeth's formidable
aunt--was another consideration altogether.
"Miss Elizabeth, you're prettier than ever!"
Somehow the expression rankled. What right had he to tell her such
things?--and in a summer-house, too;--the insufferable audacity of the
fellow!
A pipe being indispensable to the occasion, I took out my matchbox,
only to find that it contained but a solitary vesta.
The afternoon had been hot and still hitherto, with never so much as a
breath of wind stirring; but no sooner did I prepare to strike that
match than from somewhere--Heaven knows where--there came a sudden flaw
of wind that ruffled the glassy waters of the river and set every leaf
whispering. Waiting until what I took to be a favourable opportunity,
with infinite precaution I struck a light. It flickered in a sickly
fashion for a moment between my sheltering palms, and immediately
expired.
This is but one example of that "Spirit of the Perverse" pervading all
things mundane, which we poor mortals are called upon to bear as best
we may. Therefore I tossed aside the charred match, and having
searched fruitlessly through my pockets for another, waited
philosophically for some "good Samaritan" to come along. The bank I
have mentioned sloped away gently on my left, thus affording an
uninterrupted view of the path.
Now as my eyes followed this winding path I beheld an individual some
distance away who crawled upon his hands and knees, evidently searching
for something. As I watched, he succeeded in raking a Panama hat from
beneath a bush, and having dusted it carefully with his handkerchief,
replaced it upon his head and continued his advance.
With some faint hope that there might be a loose match hiding away in
some corner of my pockets, I went through them again more carefully,
but alas! with no better success; whereupon I gave it up and turned to
glance at the approaching figure. My astonishment may be readily
imagined when I beheld him in precisely the same attitude as
before--that is to say, upon his hands and knees.
I was yet puzzling over this phenomenon when he again raked out the
Panama on the end of the hunting-crop he carried, dusted it as before,
looking about him the while with a bewildered air, and setting it
firmly upon his head, came down the path. He was a tall young fellow,
scrupulously neat and well groomed from the polish of his brown riding
boots to his small, sleek moustache, which was parted with elaborate
care and twisted into two fine points. There was about his whole
person an indefinable air of self-complacent satisfaction, but he
carried his personality in his moustache, so to speak, which, though
small, as I say, and precise to a hair, yet obtruded itself upon one in
a vaguely unpleasant way. Noticing all this, I thought I might make a
very good guess as to his identity if need were.
All at once, as I watched him--like a bird rising from her nest--the
devoted Panama rose in the air, turned over once or twice and fluttered
(I use the word figuratively) into a bramble bush. Bad language was
writ large in every line of his body as he stood looking about him, the
hunting-crop quivering in his grasp.
It was at this precise juncture that his eye encountered me, and
pausing only to recover his unfortunate headgear, he strode toward
where I sat, "Do you know anything about this?" he inquired in a
somewhat aggressive manner, holding up a length of black thread.
"A piece of ordinary pack-thread," I answered, affecting to examine it
with a critical eye.
"Do you know anything about it?" he said again, evidently in a very bad
temper.
"Sir," I answered, "I do not."
"Because if I thought you did--"
"Sir." I broke in, "you'll excuse me, but that seems a very remarkable
hat of yours.
"I repeat if I thought you did--"
"Of course," I went on, "each to his taste, but personally I prefer one
with less 'gymnastic' and more 'stay-at-home, qualities."
The hunting-crop was raised threateningly.
"Mr. Selwyn?" I inquired in a conversational tone.
The hunting-crop hesitated and was lowered.
"Well, sir?"
"Ah, I thought so," I said, bowing; "permit me to trespass upon your
generosity to the extent of a match--or, say, a couple."
Mr. Selwyn remained staring down at me for a moment, and I saw the
points of his moustache positively curling with indignation. Then,
without deigning a reply, he turned on his heel and strode away. He had
not gone more than thirty or forty paces, however, when I heard him
stop and swear savagely--I did not need to look to learn the reason--I
admit I chuckled. But my merriment was short-lived, for a moment later
came the feeble squeak of a horn followed by a shout and the Imp's
voice upraised in dire distress.
"Little-John! Little-John! to the rescue!" it called.
I hesitated, for I will freely confess that when I had made that
promise to the Imp it was with small expectation that I should be
called upon to fulfil it. Still, a promise is a promise: so I sighed,
and picking up the joint of my fishing rod, clambered up the bank.
Glancing in the direction of the cries, I beheld Robin Hood struggling
in the foe's indignant grasp.
Now, there were but two methods of procedure open to me as I could
see--the serious or the frankly grotesque. Naturally I chose the
latter, and quarter-staff on shoulder, I swaggered down the path with
an air that Little-John himself might well have envied.
"Beshrew me!" I cried, confronting the amazed Mr. Selwyn, "who dares
lay hands on bold Robin Hood?--away, base rogue, hie thee hence or I am
like to fetch thee a dour ding on that pate o' thine!"
Mr. Selwyn loosed the Imp and stared at me in speechless astonishment,
as well he might.
"Look ye, master," I continued, entering into the spirit of the thing,
"no man lays hand on Robin Hood whiles Little-John can twirl a staff or
draw a bow-string--no, by St. Cuthbert!"
The Imp, retired to a safe distance, stood hearkening in a transport
till, bethinking him of his part, he fished out the tattered book and
began surreptitiously turning over the pages; as for Mr. Selwyn, he
only fumbled at his moustache and stared.
"Aye, but I know thee," I went on again, "by thy sly and crafty look,
by thy scallopped cape and chain of office, I know thee for that same
Sheriff of Nottingham that hath sworn to our undoing. Go to! didst'
think to take Robin--in the greenwood? Out upon thee! Thy years should
have taught thee better wisdom. Out upon thee!"
"Now will I feed"--began the Imp, with the book carefully held behind
him, "now will I feed fat mine vengeance--to thy knees for a scurvy
rascal!"
"Aye, by St. Benedict!" I nodded, "twere well he should do penance on
his marrow-bones from hither to Nottingham Town; but as thou art
strong--be merciful, Robin."
Mr. Selwyn still curled the point of his moustache.
"Are you mad," he inquired, "or only drunk?"
"As to that, good master Sheriff, it doth concern thee nothing--but
mark you! 'tis an ill thing to venture within the greenwood whiles
Robin Hood and Little-John he abroad."
Mr. Selwyn shrugged his shoulders and turned to the Imp.
"I am on my way to see your Aunt Elizabeth, and shall make it my
particular care to inform her of your conduct, and to see that you are
properly punished. As for you, sir," he continued, addressing me, "I
shall inform the police that there is a madman at large."
At this double-barrelled threat the Imp was plainly much dismayed, and
coming up beside me, slipped his hand into mine, and I promptly
pocketed it.
"Sweet master Sheriff," I said, sweeping off my cap in true outlaw
fashion, "the way is long and something lonely; methinks--we will
therefore e'en accompany you, and may perchance lighten the tedium with
quip and quirk and a merry stave or so."
Seeing the angry rejoinder upon Mr. Selwyn's lips, I burst forth
incontinent into the following ditty, the words extemporised to the
tune of "Bonnie Dundee":
There lived a sheriff in Nottinghamshire,
With a hey derry down and a down;
He was fond of good beef, but was fonder of beer,
With a hey derry down and a down
By the time we reached the Shrubbery gate the imp was in an ecstasy and
Mr. Selwyn once more reduced to speechless indignation and
astonishment. Here our ways diverged, Mr. Selwyn turning toward the
house, while the Imp and I made our way to the orchard at the rear.
"Uncle Dick," he said, halting suddenly, "do you think he will
tell--really?"
"My dear Imp," I answered, "a man who wears points on his moustache is
capable of anything."
"Then I shall be sent to bed for it, I know I shall!"
"To run into a thread tied across the path must have been very
annoying," I said, shaking my head thoughtfully, "especially with a
brand-new hat!"
"They were only 'ambushes,' you know, Uncle Dick."
"To be sure," I nodded. "Now, observe, my Imp, here is a shilling; go
and buy that spring-pistol you were speaking of, and take your time
about it; I'll see what can be done in the meanwhile."
The Imp was reduced to incoherent thanks.
"That's all right." I said, "but you'd better hurry off."
He obeyed with alacrity, disappearing in the direction of the village,
while I went on toward the orchard to find Lisbeth. And presently,
sure enough, I did find her--that is to say, part of her, for the
foliage of that particular tree happened to be very thick and I could
see nothing of her but a foot.
A positively delicious foot it was, too, small and shapely, that swung
audaciously to and fro; a foot in a ridiculously out-of-place little
patent-leather shoe, with a sheen of slender silken ankle above.
I approached softly, with the soul of me in my eyes, so to speak, yet,
despite my caution, she seemed to become aware of my presence in some
way--the foot faltered in its swing and vanished as the leaves were
parted and Lisbeth looked down at me.
"Oh, it's you?" she said, and I fancied she seemed quite pleased.
"You'll find a step-ladder somewhere about--it can't be very far."
"Thanks," I answered, "but I don't want one."
"No; but I do; I want to get down. That little wretched Imp hid the
ladder, and I've been here all the afternoon," she wailed.
"But then you refused to be an elephant, you know," I reminded her.
"He shall go to bed for it--directly after tea!" she said.
"Lisbeth," I returned, "I firmly believe your nature to be altogether
too sweet and forgiving--"
"I want to come down!"
"Certainly," I said; "put your left foot in my right hand, take firm
hold of the branch above and let yourself sink gently into my arms."
"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, "here's Mr. Selwyn coming," and following
her glance, I saw a distant Panama approaching.
"Lisbeth," said I, "are you anxious to see him?"
"In this ridiculous situation--of course not!"
"Very well then, hide--just sit there and leave matters to me and--"
"Hush," she whispered, and at that moment Selwyn emerged into full
view. Catching sight of me he stopped in evident surprise.
"I was told I should find Miss Elizabeth here," he said stiffly.
"It would almost appear that you had been misinformed," I answered. For
a moment he seemed undecided what to do. Would he go away? I
wondered. Evidently not, for after glancing about him he sat himself
down upon a rustic seat near-by with a certain resolute air that I did
not like. I must get rid of him at all hazards.
"Sir," said I, "can I trespass on your generosity to the extent of a
match or say a couple?" After a brief hesitation he drew out a very
neat silver match-box, which he handed to me.
"A fine day, sir?" I said, puffing at my pipe.
Mr. Selwyn made no reply.
"I hear that the crops are looking particularly healthy this year," I
went on.
Mr. Selwyn appeared to be utterly lost in the contemplation of an
adjacent tree.
"To my mind an old apple tree is singularly picturesque," I began
again, "nice nobbly branches, don't you know."
Mr. Selwyn began to fidget.
"And then," I pursued, "they tell me that apples are so good for the
blood."
Mr. Selwyn shifted his gaze to the toe of his riding boot, and for a
space there was silence, so much so, indeed, that an inquisitive rabbit
crept up and sat down to watch us with much interest, until--evidently
remembering some pressing engagement--he disappeared with a flash of
his white tail.
"Talking of rabbits," said I, "they are quite a pest in Australia, I
believe, and are exterminated by the thousand; I have often wondered if
a syndicate could not be formed to acquire the skins--this idea, so far
as I know, is original, but you are quite welcome to it if--"
Mr. Selwyn rose abruptly to his feet.
"I once in my boyhood possessed a rabbit--of the lop-eared variety," I
continued, "which overate itself and died. I remember I attempted to
skin it with dire results--"
"Sir." said Mr. Selwyn. "I beg to inform you that I am not interested
in rabbits, lop-eared or otherwise, nor do I propose to become so;
furthermore--"
But at this moment of my triumph, even as he turned to depart,
something small and white fluttered down from the branches above, and
the next moment Selwyn had stooped and picked up a lace handkerchief.
Then, while he stared at it and I at him, there came a ripple of
laughter and Lisbeth peered down at us through the leaves.
"My handkerchief-thank you," she said, as Selwyn stood somewhat taken
aback by her sudden appearance.
"The trees hereabouts certainly bear very remarkable, not to say
delightful fruit," he said.
"And as you will remember, I was always particularly fond of apple
trees," I interpolated.
"Mr. Selwyn," smiled Lisbeth, "let me introduce you to Mr. Brent."
"Sir," said I, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance; have heard
Her Grace of Chelsea speak of you--her friends are mine, I trust?"
Mr. Selwyn's bow was rather more than distant.
"I have already had the pleasure of meeting this--this very original
gentleman before, and under rather peculiar circumstances, Miss
Elizabeth," he said, and forthwith plunged into an account of the whole
affair of the "ambushes," while Lisbeth, perched upon her lofty throne,
surveyed us with an ever-growing astonishment.
"Whatever does it all mean?" she inquired as Mr. Selwyn made an end.
"You must know, then," I explained, leaning upon my quarter-staff, "the
Imp took it into his head to become Robin Hood; I was Little-John, and
Mr. Selwyn here was so very obliging as to enact the role of Sheriff
of Nottingham--"
"I beg your pardon," exclaimed Mr. Selwyn indignantly, turning upon me
with a fiery eye.
"Every one recollects the immortal exploits of Robin and his 'merrie
men,'" I continued, "and you will, of course, remember that they had a
habit of capturing the sheriff and tying him up to trees and things.
Naturally the Imp did not proceed to that extreme. He contented
himself with merely capturing the Sheriff's hat--I think that you will
agree that those 'ambushes' worked like a charm, Mr. Selwyn?"
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, disdaining any reply, "I am aware of the
af--affection you lavish upon your nephew; I hope that you will take
measures to restrain him from such pranks--such very disgraceful
pranks--in the future. I myself should suggest a change of
companionship [here he glanced at me] as the most salutary method.
Good-afternoon, Miss Elizabeth." So saying, Mr. Selwyn raised his hat,
bowed stiffly to me, and turning upon an indignant heel, strode
haughtily away.
"Well!" exclaimed Lisbeth, with a look of very real concern.
"Very well, indeed!" I nodded; "we are alone at last."
"Oh, Dick! but to have offended him like this!"
"A highly estimable young gentleman," I said, "though deplorably
lacking in that saving sense of humour which--"
"Aunt Agatha seems to think a great deal of him."
"So I understand," I nodded.
"Only this morning I received a letter from her, in which, among other
things, she pointed out what a very excellent match he would be."
"And what do you think?"
"Oh, I agree with her, of course; his family dates back ages and ages
before the Conqueror, and he has two or three estates besides Selwyn
Park, and one in Scotland."
"Do you know, Lisbeth, that reminds me of another house--not at all big
or splendid, but of great age; a house which stands not far from the
village of Down, in Kent; a house which is going to rack and ruin for
want of a mistress. Sometimes, just as evening comes on, I think it
must dream of the light feet and gentle hands it has known so many
years ago, and feels its loneliness more than ever."
"Poor old house!" said Lisbeth softly.
"Yes, a house is very human, Lisbeth, especially an old one, and feels
the need of that loving care which only a woman can bestow, just as we
do ourselves."
"Dear old house!" said Lisbeth, more softly than before.
"How much longer must it wait--when will you come and care for it,
Lisbeth?"
She started, and I thought her cheeks seemed a trifle pinker than usual
as her eyes met mine.
"Dick," she said wistfully, "I do wish you would get the ladder; it's
horribly uncomfortable to sit in a tree for hours and--"
"First of all, Lisbeth, you will forgive the Imp--full and freely,
won't you?"
"He shall go to bed without any tea whatever."
"That will be rank cruelty, Lisbeth; remember he is a growing boy."
"And I have been perched up here--between heaven and earth--all the
afternoon."
"Then why not come down?" I inquired.
"If you will only get the ladder--"
"If you will just put your right foot in my--"
"I won't!" said Lisbeth.
"As you please," I nodded, and sitting down, mechanically took out my
pipe and began to fill it, while she opened her book, frowning. And
after she had read very studiously for perhaps two minutes, she drew
out and consulted her watch. I did the same.
"A quarter to five!" I said.
Lisbeth glanced down at me with the air of one who is deliberating upon
two courses of action, and when at length she spoke, every trace of
irritation had vanished completely.
"Dick, I'm awfully hungry."
"So am I," I nodded.
"It would be nice to have tea here under the trees, wouldn't it?"
"It would be positively idyllic!" I said.
"Then if you will please find that ladder--"
"If you will promise to forgive the Imp--"
"Certainly not!" she retorted.
"So be it!" I sighed, and sat down again. As I did so she launched her
book at me.
"Beast!" she exclaimed.
"Which means that you are ready to descend?" I inquired, rising and
depositing the maltreated volume side by side with my pipe on a rustic
table near-by; "very good. Place your right foot in--"
"Oh, all right," she said quite pettishly, and next moment I had her in
my arms.
"Dick! put me down-at once!"
"One moment, Lisbeth; that boy is a growing boy--"
"And shall go to bed without any tea!" she broke in.
"Very well, then," I said, and reading the purpose in my eyes, she
attempted, quite vainly, to turn her head aside.
"You will find it quite useless to struggle, Lisbeth," I warned. "Your
only course is to remember that he is a growing boy."
"And you are a brute!" she cried.
"Undoubtedly," I answered, bending my head nearer her petulant lips.
"But think of the Imp in bed, lying there, sleepless, tealess, and
growing all the while as fast as he can."
Lisbeth surrendered, of course, but my triumph was greatly tempered
with disappointment.
"You will then forgive him for the 'ambushes' and cherish him with much
tea?" I stipulated, winking away a tress of hair that tickled most
provokingly.
"Yes," said Lisbeth.
"And no bed until the usual hour?"
"No," she answered, quite subdued; "and now please do put me down." So
I sighed and perforce obeyed.
She stood for a moment patting her rebellious hair into order with
deft, white fingers, looking up at me meanwhile with a laugh in her
eyes that seemed almost a challenge. I took a hasty step toward her,
but as I did so the Imp hove into view, and the opportunity was lost.
"Hallo, Auntie Lisbeth!" he exclaimed, eyeing her wonderingly; then his
glance wandered round as if in quest of something.
"How did she do it, Uncle Dick?" he inquired.
"Do what, my Imp?"
"Why, get out of the tree?" I smiled and looked at Lisbeth.
"Did she climb down?"
"No," said I, shaking my head.
"Did she--jump down?"
"No, she didn't jump down, my Imp."
"Well, did she--did she fly down?"
"No, nor fly down--she just came down."
"Yes, but how did she--"
"Reginald," said Lisbeth, "run and tell the maids to bring tea out
here--for three."
"Three?" echoed the Imp. "But Dorothy has gone out to tea, you
know--is Uncle Dick going to--"
"To be sure, Imp," I nodded.
"Oh, that is fine--hurrah, Little-John!" he cried, and darted off to
ward the house.
"And you, Lisbeth?" I said, imprisoning her hands, "are you glad also?"
Lisbeth did not speak, yet I was satisfied nevertheless.