"Yes, just like a thumb-nail; and so they go on working and working at it until it gets as big and round and bright as it is to-night."Thus we walked together through a fairy world, the Imp and I, while above the murmur of the waters, above the sighing of the trees, came the soft, tremulous melody of the violins.
"I do wish I had lived when there were knights like Ivanhoe," burst out the Imp suddenly; "it must have been fine to knock a man off his horse with your lance.""Always supposing he didn't knock you off first, Imp." "Oh! I should have been the sort of knight that nobody could knock off, you know.An' I'd have wandered about on my faithful charger, fighting all sorts of caddish barons, and caitiffs, an' slaying giants; an' I'd have rescued lovely ladies from castles grim - though I wouldn't have put myarm round them, of course!""Perish the thought, my Imp!""Uncle ****!" he said, insinuatingly, "I do wish you'd be the Black Knight, an' let me be Ivanhoe.""But there are no caitiffs and things left for us to fight, Imp, and no lovely ladies to rescue from castles grim, alas!"Now we had been walking on, drawn almost imperceptibly by the magic thread of the melody, which had led us, by devious paths, to a low stone wall, beyond which we could see the gleam of lighted windows and the twinkle of fairy-lamps among the trees. And over there, amid the music and laughter, was Lisbeth in all the glory of her beauty, happy, of course, and light-hearted; and here, beneath the moon, was I.
"We could pretend this was a castle grim, you know, Uncle ****, full of dungeons an' turrets, an' that we were going to rescue Auntie Lisbeth.""Imp," I said, "that's really a great idea.""I wish I'd brought my trusty sword," he sighed, searching about for something to supply its place; "I left it under my pillow, you know."Very soon, however, he had procured two sticks, somewhat thin and wobbly, yet which, by the magic of imagination, became transformed into formidable, two-edged swords, with one of which he armed me, the other he flourished above his head.
"Forward, gallant knights!" he cried; "the breach! the breach! On! on! St. George, for Merrie England!" With the words he clambered upon the wall and disappeared upon the other side.
For a moment I hesitated, and then, inspired by the music and the thought of Lisbeth, I followed suit. It was all very mad, of course, but who cared for sanity on such a night - certainly not I.
"Careful now, Imp!" I cautioned; "if any one should see us they'll take us for thieves, or lunatics, beyond a doubt."We found ourselves in an enclosed garden with a walk which led between rows of fruit trees. Following this, it brought us out upon a broad stretch of lawn, with here and there a great tree, and beyond, the gleaming windows of the house. Filled with the spirit of adventure, we approached, keeping in the shadow as much as possible, until we could see figures that strolled to and fro upon the terrace or promenaded the walks below.
The excitement of dodging our way among so many people was intense; time and again we were only saved from detection by more than one wandering couple, owing to the fact that all their attention was centred in themselves. For instance, we were skirmishing round a clump of laurels, to gain the shadow of the terrace, when we almost ran into the arms of a pair; but they didn't see us for the very good reason that she was staring at the moon, and he at her.
"So sweet of you, Archibald!" she was saying.
"What did she call him 'bald for, Uncle ****?" inquired the Imp in a loud stage-whisper, as I dragged him down behind the laurels. 'He's not a bit bald, you know! An' I say, Uncle ****, did you see his arm, it was round - ""Yes - yes!" I nodded.
"Just like Peter's, you know." "Yes - yes, I saw.""I wonder why she called him - "
"Hush!" I broke in, "his name is Archibald, I suppose." "Well, I hope when I grow up nobody will ever call me - ""Hush!" I said again, "not a word - there's your Auntie Lisbeth! She was, indeed, standing upon the terrace, within a yard of our hiding-place, and beside her was Mr. Selwyn.
"Uncle ****," whispered the irrepressible Imp, "do you think if we watch long enough that Mr. Selwyn will put his arm round - ""Shut up!" I whispered savagely. Lisbeth was clad in a long, trailing gown of dove-coloured silk - one of those close-fitting garments that make the uninitiated, such as myself, wonder how they are ever got on. Also, she wore a shawl, which I was sorry for, because I have always been an admirer of beautiful things, and Lisbeth's neck and shoulders are glorious. Mr. Selwyn stood beside her with a plate of ice cream in his hand, which he handed to her, and they sat down. As I watched her and noticed her weary, bored air, and how wistfully she gazed up at the silver disc of the moon, I experienced a feeling of decided satisfaction.
"Yes," said Lisbeth, toying absently with the ice cream, "he painted Dorothy's face with stripes of red and green enamel, and goodness only knows how we can ever get it all off!"Mr. Selwyn was duly shocked and murmured something about 'the efficacy of turpentine' in such an emergency.
"Of course, I had to punish him," continued Lisbeth, "so I sent him to bed immediately after tea, and never went to say good-night, or tuck him up as I usually do, and it has been worrying me all the evening."Mr. Selwyn was sure that he was all right, and positively certain that at this moment he was wrapped in balmy slumber. Despite my warning grasp, the Imp chuckled, but we were saved by the band striking up. Mr. Selwyn rose, giving his arm to Lisbeth, and they re-entered the ball-room. One by one the other couples followed suit until the long terrace wasdeserted.Now, upon Lisbeth's deserted chair, showing wonderfully pink in the soft glow of the Chinese lanterns, was the ice cream.
