“‘Fraid I’m a teeny bit wet, too,” he said hesitatingly. “You see, I’ve been playing at ‘Romans” an’ I had to wade, you know, because I was the standard bearer who jumped into the sea waving his sword an’ crying, ‘Follow me!’ You remember him, don’t you? - he’s in the history book.”
“To be sure,” I nodded; “a truly heroic character. But if you were the Romans, where were the ancient Britons?”
“Oh, they were the reeds, you know; you ought to have seen me slay them. It was fine; they went down like - like - “
“Corn before a sickle,” I suggested.
“Yes, just!” he cried; “the battle raged for hours.”
“You must be rather tired.”
“‘Course not,” he answered, with an indignant look. “I’m not a girl - and I’m nearly nine, too.”
“I gather from your tone that you are not partial to the sex - you don’t like girls, eh, Imp?”
“Should think not,” he returned; silly things, girls are. There’s Dorothy, you know; we were playing at executions the other day - she was Mary Queen of Scots an’ I was the headsman. I made a lovely axe with wood and silver paper, you know; and when I cut her head off she cried awfully, and I only gave her the weeniest little tap - an’ they sent me to bed at six o’clock for it. I believe she cried on purpose - awfully caddish, wasn’t it?”
“My dear Imp,” said I, “the older you grow, the more the depravity of the sex will become apparent to you.”
“Do you know, I like you,” he said, regarding me thoughtfully, “I think you are fine.”
“Now that’s very nice of you, Imp; in common with my kind I have a weakness for flattery-please go on.”
“I mean, I think you are jolly.”
“As to that,” I said, shaking my head and sighing, “appearances are often very deceptive; at the heart of many a fair blossom there is a canker worm.”
“I’m awfull’ fond of worms, too,” said the Imp.
“Indeed?”
“Yes. I got a pocketful yesterday, only Aunty found out an’ made me let them all go again.”
“Ah-yes,” I said sympathetically; “that was the woman of it.”
“I’ve only got one left now,” continued the Imp; and thrusting a hand into the pocket of his knickerbockers he drew forth six inches or so of slimy worm and held it out to me upon his small, grimy palm.
“He’s nice and fat!” I said.
“Yes,” nodded the Imp; “I caught him under the gooseberry bushes;” and dropping it back into his pocket he proceeded to don his shoes and stockings.
“Fraid I’m a bit muddy,” he said suddenly.
“Oh, you might be worse,” I answered reassuringly.
“Do you think they’ll notice it?” he inquired, contorting himself horribly in order to view the small of his back.
“Well,” I hesitated, “it all depends, you know.”
“I don’t mind Dorothy, or Betty the cook, or the governess - it’s Auntie Lisbeth I’m thinking about.”
“Auntie - who?” I exclaimed, regardless of grammar.
” Auntie Lisbeth,” repeated the Imp.
“What is she like?”
“Oh, she’s grown up big, only she’s nice. She came to take care of Dorothy an’ me while mother goes away to get nice an strong - oh Auntie Lisbeth’s jolly, you know.”
“With black hair and blue eyes?”
The Imp nodded.
“And a dimple at the corner of her mouth?” I went on dreamily - ” a dimple that would lead a man to the - Old Gentleman himself.”
“What old gentleman?”
“Oh, a rather disreputable old gentleman,” I answered evasively.
“An’ do you know my Auntie Lisbeth?”
“I think it extremely probable - in fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Then you might end me your handkerchief, please; I tied mine to a bush for a flag, you know, an’ it blew away.”
“You’d better come here and I’ll give you a rub-down my Imp.” He obeyed, with many profuse expressions of gratitude.
Hay you got any Aunties?” he inquired, as I laboured upon his miry person.
“No,” I answered, shaking my head; “unfortunately mine are all Aunts and that is vastly different.”
“Oh,” said the Imp, regarding me with a puzzled expression; “are they nice - I mean do they ever read to out of the history book, and help you to sail boats, an’ paddle?”
“Paddle?” I repeated
“Yes. My Auntie Lisbeth does. The other day we got up awfull’ early an’ went for a walk an’ we came to the river, so we took off our shoes an’ stockings an’ we paddled; it was ever so jolly, you know. An’ when Auntie wasn’t looking I found a frog an’ put it in her stocking.”
“Highly strategic, my Imp! Well?”
“It was awful funny,” he said, smiling dreamily. “When she went to put it on she gave a little high-up scream like Dorothy does when I pinch her a bit - an’ then she throwed them both away, ‘cause she was afraid there was frogs in both of them. Then she put on her shoes without any stockings at all, so I hid them.”
“Where?” I cried eagerly.
“Reggie!” called a voice some distance away - a voice I recognised with a thrill. “Reggie!”
“Imp, would you like half a crown?”
“‘Course I would; but you might clean my back, please,” and he began rubbing himself feverishly with his cap, after the fashion of a scrubbing brush.
“Look here,” I said, pulling out the coin, “tell me where you hid them - quick - and I’ll give you this.” The Imp held out his hand, but even as he did so the bushes parted and Lisbeth stood before us. She gave a little, low cry of surprise at sight of me, and then frowned.
“You?” she exclaimed.
“Yes,” I answered, raising my cap. And there I stopped, trying frantically to remember the speech I had so carefully prepared - the greeting which was to have explained my conduct and disarmed her resentment at the very outset. But rack my brain as I would, I could think of nothing but the reproach in her eyes - her disdainful mouth and chin - and that one haunting phrase:
“‘I suppose I am become the object of your bitterest scorn by now?’” I found myself saying.
“My aunt informed me of - of everything, and naturally - “
“Let me explain,” I began.
“Really, it is not at all necessary.”
“But, Lisbeth, I must - I insist - “
“Reginald,” she said, turning toward the Imp, who was still busy with his cap, “it’s nearly tea-time, and - why, whatever have you been doing to yourself?”
“For the last half hour,” I interposed, “we have been exchanging our opinions on the sex.”
“An’ talking ‘bout worms,” added the Imp. “This man is fond of worms, too, Auntie Lisbeth - I like him.”
“Thanks,” I said; “but let me beg of you to drop your very distant mode of address, Call me Uncle Dick,”
“But you’re not my Uncle Dick, you know,” he demurred.
“Not yet, perhaps; but there’s no knowing what may happen some day if your Auntie thinks us worthy - so take time by the forelock, my Imp, and call me Uncle Dick.”
Whatever Lisbeth might or might not have said was checked by the patter of footsteps, and a little girl tripped into view, with a small, fluffy kitten cuddled in her arms.
“Oh, Auntie Lisbeth,”she began, but stopped to stare at me over the back of the fluffy kitten. “Hallo, Dorothy!” cried the imp; “this is Uncle Dick. You can come an’ shake hands with him if you like.”
“I didn’t know I had an Uncle Dick,” said Dorothy, hesitating.
“Oh, yes; it’s all right,” answered the Imp reassuringly. “I found him, you know, an’ he likes worms, too!”
“How do you do, Uncle Dick?” she said in a quaint, old-fashioned way. “Reginald is always finding things, you know, an’ he likes worms, too!” Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.
>From somewhere near by there came the silvery chime of a bell.
“Why, there’s the tea-bell!” exclaimed Lisbeth; “and, Reginald, you have to change those muddy clothes. Say good-bye to Mr. Brent, children, and come along.”