“So that’s the way of it?” I said.
“Well! well! such an appeal shall not go unanswered, at least. Wait there, my trusty Benjamin, and I’ll be with you anon.” Pausing only to refill my tobacco-pouch and get my cap, I sallied out into the fragrant night, and set off along the river, the faithful Benjamin trotting at my heels.
Very soon we were skirting blooming flower-beds, and crossing trim lawns, until at length we reached a certain wing of the house from a window of which a pillow-case was dangling by means of a string.
“That’s for provisions!” volunteered Ben; “we pertended he was starving, so he lets it down an’ I fill it with onions out of the vegetable garden.” At this moment the curly head of the Imp appeared at the window, followed by the major portion of his person.
“Oh, Uncle Dick!” he cried in a loud stage-whisper, “I think you had better be the Black Knight, ‘cause you’re so big, you know.”
“Imp,” I said, “get in at once, do you want to break your neck?”
The Imp obediently wriggled into safety.
“The ladder’s in the tool-house, Uncle Dick - Ben’ll show you. Will you get it, please?” he pleaded in a wheedling tone.
“First of all, my Imp, why did your Auntie Lisbeth send you to bed - had you been a very naughty boy?”
“No-o!” he answered, after a moment’s pause, “I don’t think I was so very naughty - I only painted Dorothy like an Indian chief - green, with red spots, an’ she looked fine, you know.”
“Green, with red spots!” I repeated.
“Yes; only auntie didn’t seem to like it.”
“I fear your Auntie Lisbeth lacks an eye for colour.”
“Yes, ‘fraid so; she sent me to bed for it, you know.”
“Still, Imp, under the circumstances I think it would be best if you got undressed and went to sleep.”
“Oh, but I can’t, Uncle Dick!”
“Why not, my Imp?”
“‘Cause the moon’s so very bright, an’ everything looks so fine down there, an’ I’m sure there’s fairies about - Moon-fairies, you know, and I’m ‘miserable.”
“Miserable, Imp?”
“Yes, Auntie Lisbeth never came to kiss me good-night, an’ so I can’t go to sleep, Uncle Dick!”
“Why that alters the case, certainly.”
“Yes, an’ the ladder’s in the tool-house.”
“Imp,” I said, as I turned to follow Benjamin, “oh, you Imp!”
There are few things in this world more difficult to manage than a common or garden ladder; among other peculiarities it has a most unpleasant knack of kicking out suddenly just as everything appears to be going smoothly, which is apt to prove disconcerting to the novice. However, after sundry mishaps of the kind, I eventually got it reared up to the window, and a moment afterwards the Imp had climbed down and stood beside me, drawing the breath of freedom.
As a precautionary measure we proceeded to hide the ladder in a clump of rhododendrons hard by, and had but just done so when Benjamin uttered a cry of warning and took to his heels, while the Imp and I sought shelter behind a friendly tree. And not a whit too soon, for, scarcely had we done so, when two figures came round a corner of the house - two figures who walked very slowly and very close together.
“Why it’s Betty-the cook, you know-an’ Peter!” whispered the Imp.
Almost opposite our hiding-place Betty paused to sigh heavily and stare up at the moon.
“Oh, Peter!” she murmured, “look at that there orb!”
“Ar!” said Peter, gazing obediently upward.
“Peter, ain’t it ‘eavenly; don’t it stir your very soul?”
“Ar!” said Peter.
“Peter, are you sure you loves me more than that Susan thing at the doctor’s?” A corduroy coat-sleeve crept slowly about Betty’s plump waist, and there came the unmistakable sound of a kiss.
“Really and truly, Peter?”
“Ar!” said Peter, “so ‘elp me Sam!” The kissing sound was repeated, and they walked on once more, only closer than ever now on account of the corduroy coat-sleeve.
“Those two are in love, you know,” nodded the Imp. “Peter says the cheese-cakes she makes are enough to drive any man into marrying her, whether he wants to or not, an’ I heard Betty telling Jane that she adored Peter, ‘cause he had so much soul! Why is it,” he inquired, thoughtfully, as he watched the two out of sight, “why is it, Uncle Dick, that people in love always look so silly?”
“Do you think so?” I asked, as I paused to light my pipe.
“‘Course I do!” returned the Imp; “what’s any one got to put their arm round girls for, just as if they wanted holding up - I think it’s awfull’ silly!”
“Of course it is, Imp - your wisdom is unassailable - still, do you know, I can understand a man being foolish enough to do it - occasionally.”
