"Yes, I know he looks healthy enough," said Lisbeth, wrinkling her brows; "but lately he has developed such an enormous appetite. Oh, ****, it's awful!""My poor girl," I retorted, shaking my head, "the genus 'Boy' is distinguished by the two attributes, dirt and appetite. You should know that by this time. I myself have harrowing recollections of huge piles of bread and butter, of vast slabs of cake - damp and 'soggy,' and of mysterious hue - of glutinous mixtures purporting to be 'stick-jaw,' one inch of which was warranted to render coherent speech impossible for ten minutes at least. And then the joy of bolting things fiercely in the shade of the pantry, with one's ears on the stretch for foes! I sometimes findmyself sighing over the remembrance, even in these days.Don't worry about the Imp's appetite; believe me, it is quite unnecessary.""Oh, but I can't help it," said Lisbeth; "it seems somehow so - so weird. For instance, this morning for breakfast he had first his usual porridge, then five pieces of bread and butter, and after that a large slice of ham - quite a big piece, ****! And he ate it all so quickly. I turned away to ask Jane for the toast, and when I looked at his plate again it was empty, he had eaten every bit, and even asked for more. Of course I refused, so he tried to get Dorothy to give him hers in exchange for a broken pocket- knife. It was just the same at dinner. He ate the whole leg of a chicken, and after that a wing, and then some of the breast, and would have gone on until he had finished everything, I'm sure, if I hadn't stopped him, though I let him eat as long as I dared. Then at tea he had six slices of bread and butter, one after the other, not counting toast and cake. He has been like this for the last two days - and - oh, yes, cook told me to-night that she found him actually eating dry bread just before he went up to bed. Dry bread-think of it! Oh, ****, what can be the matter with him?""It certainly sounds mysterious," I answered, "especially as regards the dry bread; but that of itself suggests a theory, which, as the detective says in the story, 'I will not divulge just yet;' only don't worry, Lisbeth, the Imp is all right."Being now come to o1d Jasper's cottage, which stands a little apart from the village in a by-lane, Lisbeth paused and held out her hand for the basket.
"Don't wait for me to-night," she said, "I ordered Peter to fetch me in the dog-cart; you see, I may be late.""Is the old chap so very ill ?" "Very, very ill, ****.""Poor old Jasper!" I exclaimed.
"Poor old Jasper!" she sighed, and her eyes were brimful of tenderness.
"He is very old and feeble," I said, drawing her close, under pretence of handing her the basket; "and yet with your gentle hand to smooth mypillow, and your eyes to look into mine, I could almost wish - " "Hush, ****!""Peter or no Peter, I think I'll wait - unless you really wish me to say 'good-night' now?" But with a dexterous turn she eluded me, and waving her hand hurried up the rose-bordered path.
An hour, or even two, does not seem so very long when one's mind is so full of happy thoughts as mine was. Thus, I was filling my pipe and looking philosophically about for a likely spot in which to keep my vigil, when I was aware of a rustling close by, and as I watched a small figure stepped from the shadow of the hedge out into the moonlight. "Hallo, Uncle ****!" said a voice.
"Imp !" I exclaimed, "what does this mean? You ought to have been in bed over an hour ago !""So I was," be answered with his guileless smile; "only I got up again, you know.""So it seems!" I nodded.
"An' I followed you an' Auntie Lisbeth all the way, too." "Did you, though; by George!""Yes, an' I dropped one of the parcels an' lost a sausage, but you never heard.""Lost a sausage!" I repeated, staring.
"Oh, it's all right, you know," he hastened to assure me; "I found it again, an' it wasn't hurt a bit,""Imp," I said sternly, "come here, I want to talk to you.""Just a minute, Uncle ****, while I get my parcels. I want you to help me to carry them, please," and with the words he dived under the hedge to emerge a moment later with his arms full of unwieldy packages, which he laid at my feet in a row.
"Why, what on earth have you got there, Imp ?""This," he said, pointing to the first, "is jam an' ham an' a piece of bread; this next one is cakes an' sardines, an' this one is bread-an'-butter that I saved from my tea.""Quite a collection !" I nodded."Suppose you tell me what you meanto do with them."
"Well, they're for my outlaw. You remember the other day I wanted to play at being outlaws? Well, two days ago, as I was tracking a base caitiff through the woods with my trusty bow and arrow, I found a real outlaw in the old boat-house.""Ah! and what is he like?" I inquired.
"Oh, just like an outlaw - only funny, you know, an' most awfull' hungry. Are all outlaws always so very hungry, Uncle ****?""I believe they generally are, Imp.And he looks 'funny,' you say?" "Yes; I mean his clothes are funny - all over marks like little crosses,only they aren't crosses."
"Like this ?" I inquired; and picking up a piece of stick I drew a broad- arrow upon the path.
"Yes, just like that !" cried the Imp in a tone of amazement "How did you know? You're awfull' clever, Uncle ****!""And he is in the old boat-house, is he?" I said, as I picked up an armful of packages. "'Lead on, MacDuff!'""Mind that parcel, please, Uncle ****; it's the one I dropped an' lost the sausage out of - there one trying to escape now!"Having reduced the recalcitrant sausage to a due sense of law and order, we proceeded toward the old boat-house - a dismal, dismantled affair, some half mile or so downstream.
