"Aren't you just a little bit theatrical, ****?" Now, as she spoke she drew out Selwyn's handkerchief and began to tie and untie knots in it. "****," she went on - and now she was tracing out Selwyn's monogram with her finger - "you tell me you know that Aunt Agatha has threatened to disinherit me; can you realise what that would mean to me, I wonder?""Only in some small part," I answered bitterly; "but it would be awful for you, of course - good-bye to society and all the rest of it - no more ballgowns or hats and things from Paris, and - ""And bearing all this in mind," she put in, "and knowing me as you do, perhaps you can make another guess and tell me what I am likely to do under these circumstances?"Now, had I been anything but a preposterous ass, my answer would have been different; but then I was not myself, and I could not help noticing how tenderly her finger traced out those two letters F. S., so I laughed rather brutally and answered:
"Follow the instinct of your *** and stick to the Paris hats and things."I heard her breath catch, and turning away, she began to flutter the pages of the book upon the table.
"And you were always so clever at guessing, weren't you?" she said after a moment, keeping her face averted.
"At least it has saved your explaining the situation, and you should be thankful for that."The book slipped suddenly to the ground and lay, all unheeded, and she began to laugh in a strange, high key. Wondering, I took a step toward her; but as I did so she fled from me, running toward the house, never stopping or slackening speed, until I had lost sight of her altogether.
Thus the whole miserable business had befallen, dazing me by its very suddenness like a "bolt from the blue." I had returned to the 'Three Jolly Anglers,' determined to follow the advice of the Duchess and return to London by the next train. Yet, after passing a sleepless night, here I was sitting in my old place beneath the alders pretending to fish.
The river was laughing among the reeds just as merrily as ever, bees hummed and butterflies wheeled and hovered - life and the world were very fair. Yet for once I was blind to it all; moreover, my pipe refused to "draw" - pieces of grass, twigs, and my penknife were alike unavailing.
So I sat there, brooding upon the fickleness of womankind, as many another has done before me, and many will doubtless do after, alack!
And the sum of my thoughts was this: Lisbeth had deceived me; the hour of trial had found her weak; my idol was only common clay, after all. And yet she had but preferred wealth to comparative poverty, which surely,according to all the rules of common sense, had shown her possessed of a wisdom beyond her years. And who was I to sit and grieve over it? Under the same circumstances ninety-nine women out of a hundred would have chosen precisely the same course; but then to me Lisbeth had always seemed the one exempt - the hundredth woman; moreover, there be times when love, unreasoning and illogical, is infinitely more beautiful than this much-vaunted common sense.
This and much more was in my mind as I sat fumbling with my useless pipe and staring with unseeing eyes at the flow of the river. My thoughts, however, were presently interrupted by something soft rubbing against me, and looking down, I beheld Dorothy's fluffy kitten Louise. Upon my attempting to pick her up, she bounded from me in that remarkable sideways fashion peculiar to her kind, and stood regarding me from a distance, her tail straight up in the air and her mouth opening and shutting without a sound. At length having given vent to a very feeble attempt at a mew, she zig-zagged to me, and climbing upon my knee, immediately fell into a purring slumber.
"Hallo, Unc1e ****! - I mean, what ho, Little John!" cried a voice, and looking over my shoulder, carefully so as nor to disturb the balance of "Louise," I beheld the Imp. It needed but a glance at the bow in his hand, the three arrows in his belt, and the feather in his cap to tell me who he was for the time being.
"How now, Robin?" I inquired.
"I'm a bitter, disappointed man, Uncle ****!" he answered, putting up a hand to feel if his feather was in place.
"Are you?"
"Yes the book says that Robin Hood was 'bitter an' disappointed' an' so am I.""Why, how's that?"
The Imp folded his arms and regarded me with a terrific frown. "It's all the fault of my Auntie Lisbeth'!" he said in a tragic voice.
"Sit down, my Imp, and tell me all about it.""Well," he began laying aside his 'trusty sword,' and seating himself atmy elbow, "she got awfull' angry with me yesterday, awfull' angry, indeed, an' she wouldn't play with me or anything; an' when I tried to be friends with her an' asked her to pretend she was a hippopotamus, 'cause I was a mighty hunter, you know, she just said, 'Reginald, go away an' don't bother me!'
"You surprise me, Imp!"
"But that's not the worst of it," he continued, shaking his head gloomily; "she didn't come to 'tuck me up' an' kiss me good-night like she always does. I lay awake hours an' hours waiting for her, you know; but she never came, an' so I've left her!""Left her!" I repeated.
"For ever an' ever!" he said, nodding a stern brow. "I 'specks she'll be awfull' sorry some day!""But where shall you go to?"
"I'm thinking of Persia!" he said darkly. "Oh!""It's nice an' far, you know, an' I might meet Aladdin with the wonderful lamp.""Alas, Imp, I fear not," I answered, shaking my head; "and besides, it will take a long, long time to get there, and where shall you sleep at night?"The Imp frowned harder than ever, staring straight before him as one who wrestles with some mighty problem, then his brow cleared and he spoke in this wise:
"Henceforth, Uncle ****, my roof shall be the broad expanse of heaven, an - an - wait a minute!" he broke off, and lugging something from his pocket, disclosed a tattered, paper-covered volume (the Imp's books are always tattered), and hastily turning the pages, paused at a certain paragraph and read as follows:
