“But are you going to take our Auntie Lisbeth away from us?” cried Dorothy.
“Yes, dear,” I answered, “but - “
“Oh, I don’t like that one bit!” exclaimed the Imp.
“But you shall come there and stay with us as often as you wish,” said Lisbeth.
“That would be perfectly beautiful!” cried Dorothy.
“Yes, but when?” inquired the Imp gloomily.
“Soon,” I answered.
“Very soon!” said Lisbeth.
“Will you promise to be ‘Timothy Bone, the bo’sun,’ an’ the ‘Black Knight,’ an’ ‘Little-John’ whenever I want you to - so help you Sam, Uncle Dick?”
“I will, Imp.”
“An’ make me a long sword with a - a ‘deadly point’ ?”
“Yes,” I nodded, “and show you some real ones, too.”
“Real ones?” he cried.
“Oh, yes, and armour as well; there’s lots of it in the old house, you know.”
“Let’s go now!” he cried, nearly upsetting the boat in his eagerness.
“Oh! 0 Dick!” cried Lisbeth at this moment, “Dick - there’s Aunt!”
“Aunt?” I repeated.
“Aunt Agatha, and she sees us; look!”
Turning my head, I beheld a most unexpected sight. Advancing directly upon us was the old boat, that identical, weather-beaten tub of a boat which Lisbeth and I had come so near ending our lives together, the which has already been told in these Chronicles. On the rowing-thwart sat Peter, the coachman, and in the stern-sheets, very grim and stiff in the back, her lorgnettes at her eyes, was Lady Warburton.
Escape was quite out of the question, and in half a dozen strokes of the oar we were alongside and close under the battery of the lorgnettes.
“Elizabeth,” she began in her most ponderous manner, ignoring my presence altogether, “Elizabeth, child, I blush for you.”
“Then, Aunt, please don’t,” cried Lisbeth; “I can do quite enough of that for myself. I’m always blushing lately,” and as if to prove her words she immediately proceeded to do so.
“Elizabeth,” proceeded Lady Warburton, making great play with her lorgnettes, “your very shameless, ungrateful letter I received last night. This morning I arose at an objectionably early hour, travelled down in a draughty train, and here I am out on a damp and nasty river in a leaky boat, with my feet horribly wet, but determined to save you from an act which you may repent all your days.”
“Excuse me,” I said, bowing deeply, “but such heroic devotion cannot be sufficiently appreciated and admired. In Lisbeth’s name I beg to thank you; nevertheless
“Mr. Brent, I believe?” she said in a tone of faint surprise, as though noticing my presence for the first time.
“At your service, madam!” I answered with another bow.
“Then I must ask you to convey my ward back to Fane Court immediately; she and the children will accompany me to London at once.”
“My dear Lady Warburton,” I said, fronting the lorgnettes with really admirable fortitude, “it grieves me to deny you this request, but believe me, it is impossible!”
“Impossible!” she repeated.
“Quite!” I answered. “You here behold the good ship Joyful Hope, bound for the ‘Land of Heart’s Delight,’ and we aboard are all determined on our course.”
“‘An’ the wind blows fair, an’ our helm’s a-lee, so it’s heave, my mariners, all - O!’ ” cried the Imp in his nautical voice.
“Dear me!” ejaculated Lady Warburton, staring. “Elizabeth, be so obliging as to tell me what it all means. Why have you dragged these children from their beds to come philandering upon a horrid river at such an hour?”
“Excuse me, Aunt, but she didn’t drag us,” protested the Imp, bowing exactly as I had done a moment before.
“Oh, no, we came,” nodded Dorothy.
“An’ we’ve been getting married, you know,” said the Imp.
“And it was all very, very beautiful,” added Dorothy; “even Louise enjoyed it ever so much!” and she kissed the fluffy kitten.
“Married!” cried Lady Warburton in a tone of horror; “married!”
“They would do it, you know,” sighed the Imp.
“And quite right, too,” said Dorothy; “everybody always marries somebody, some time; it’s very fashionable at present. Mamma did and so shall I when I grow up, I suppose.”
“Goodness gracious, child!” exclaimed Lady Warburton.
