flushed and panting. 

 "Well!" she exclaimed, staring from me to the Imp, and back again, "was ever anything so mad!" 

 "Everything is mad to-night," I said; "it's the moon!" 

 "To think of my running away like this with two—two—" 

 "Interlopers," I suggested. 

 "I really ought to be very, very angry with you—both of you, she said, trying to frown. 

 "No, don't be angry with us, Auntie Lisbeth," pleaded the Imp, "'cause you are a lovely lady in a castle grim, an' we are two gallant knights, so we had to come an' rescue you; an' you never came to kiss me good-night, an' I'm awfull' sorry 'bout painting Dorothy's face—really!" 

 "Imp," cried Lisbeth, falling on her knees regardless of her silks and laces, "Imp, come and kiss me."  The Imp drew out a decidedly grubby handkerchief, and, having rubbed his lips with it, obeyed. 

 "Now, Uncle Dick!" he said, and offered me the grubby handkerchief. Lisbeth actually blushed. 

 "Reginald!" she exclaimed, "whatever put such an idea into your head?" 

 "Oh! everybody's always kissing somebody you know," he nodded; "an' it's Uncle Dick's turn now." 

 Lisbeth rose from her knees and began to pat her rebellious hair into order. Now, as she raised her arms, her shawl very naturally slipped to the ground; and standing there, with her eyes laughing up at me beneath their dark lashes, with the moonlight in her hair, and gleaming upon the snow of her neck and shoulders, she had never seemed quite so bewilderingly, temptingly beautiful before. 

 "Dick," she said, "I must go back at once—before they miss me." 

 "Go back!" I repeated, "never—that is, not yet." 

 "But suppose any one saw us!" she said, with a hairpin in her mouth. 

 "They shan't," I answered; "you will see to that, won't you, Imp?" 

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