you,”
“To be sure he will, if your auntie wishes it,” I cried, “so step aboard, my hearties, and lively!” In a moment the Imp’s hand was in mine, and he was smiling up at me with wet lashes.
“I knew ‘Timothy Bone’ could never be a - a ‘mutinous rogue,’” he said, and turned to aid Dorothy aboard with the air of an admiral on his flagship.
And now, all being ready, he unhitched the painter, or, as he said, “slipped our cable,” and we glided out into midstream.
“A ship,” he said thoughtfully, “always has a name. What shall we call this one? Last time we were ‘pirates’ and she was the Black Death - “
“Never mind last time, Imp,” I broke in; “to-day she is the Joyful Hope.”
“That doesn’t sound very ‘pirate-y,’ somehow,” he responded with a disparaging shake of the head, “but I s’pose it will have to do.
And so, upon that summer morning, the good ship Joyful Hope set sail for the “Land of the Heart’s Delight,” and surely no vessel of her size ever carried quite such a cargo of happiness before or since.
And once again “Scarlet Sam” stamped upon the “quarterdeck” and roared orders anent “lee shrouds” and “weather braces,” with divers injunctions concerning the “helm,” while his eyes rolled and he flourished his ‘murderous cutlass” as he had done upon a certain other memorable occasion. Never, never again could there be just such another morning as this - for two of us at least.
On we went, past rush and sedge and weeping willow, by roaring weir and cavernous lock, into the shadow of grim stone bridges and out again into the sunshine, past shady woods and green uplands until at length we “cast anchor” before a flight of steps leading up to a particularly worn stone gateway surmounted by a crumbling stone cross.
“Why,” exclaimed the Imp, staring, “this is a church!”
“Imp,” I nodded, “I believe it is?”
“But to-day isn’t Sunday, you know,” he remonstrated, seeing it was our intention to land.
“Never mind that, Imp; ‘the better the deed, the better the day, you know.’”
On we went, Dorothy with the fluffy Louise beneath her arm and the Imp with cutlass swinging at his belt, while Lisbeth and I brought up the rear, and as we went she slipped her hand into mine. In the porch we came upon an aged woman busy with a broom and a very large duster, who, catching sight of Dorothy’s kitten and the Imp’s “murderous weapon,” dropped first the duster and then the broom, and stood staring in open-mouthed astonishment.
And there in the dim old church, with the morning sun making a glory of the window above our heads, and with the birds for our choristers, the vows were exchanged and the blessing pronounced that gave Lisbeth and her future into my keeping; yet I think we were both conscious of those two small figures in the gloom of the great pew behind, who stared in round-eyed wonderment.
The register duly signed and all formalities over and done, we go out into the sunshine; and once more the aged woman, richer now by half a crown, is reduced to mute astonishment, so that speech is beyond her, when the Imp, lifting his feathered cap, politely wishes her “good-morning.”
Being come aboard the Joyful Hope, there ensued an awkward pause, during which Lisbeth looked at the children and I at her.
“We must take them back home,” she said at last.
“We shall miss our train, Lisbeth.”
“But,” and here she blushed most delightfully, “there is really no hurry; we can take a - a later one.”
“So be it,” I said, and laid our course accordingly.
For a time there was silence, during which the Imp, as if in momentary expectation of an attack by bloodthirsty foes, scowled about him, pistol in hand, keeping, as he said, “his weather eye lifting,” while Dorothy glanced from Lisbeth to me and back again with puzzled brows.
“I do believe you have been marrying each other!” she said suddenly. The Imp forgot all about his “weather eye” and stared aghast.
“‘Course not!” he cried at last. “Uncle Dick wouldn’t do such a thing, would you, Uncle Dick?”
“Imp I have - I do confess it.”
“Oh!” he exclaimed in a tone of deepest tragedy. “And you let him go and do it, Auntie Lisbeth?”
“He was so very, very persistent, Imp,” she sad, actually turning crimson beneath his reproachful eye.
“Don’t be too hard on us, Imp,” I pleaded.
“I s’pose it can’t he helped now,” he said, a little mollified, but frowning sternly, nevertheless.
“No,” I answered, with my eyes upon Lisbeth’s lovely, blushing face, “it certainly can’t be helped now,”
“And you’ll never do it again ?”
“Never again, Imp.”
“Then I forgive you, only why - why did you do it?”
“Well, you see, my Imp, I have an old house in the country, a very cosy old place, but it’s lonely, horribly lonely, to live by one’s self. I’ve wanted somebody to help me to live in it for a long time, but nobody wou1d you know, Imp. At last our Auntie Lisbeth has promised to take care of the house and me, to fill the desolate rooms with her voice and sweet presence and my empty life with her life. You can’t quite understand how much this means to me now, Imp, but you will some day, perhaps.”
