"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, 

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