My Lady Caprice Part 2

"Where?" I cried eagerly.

"Reggie!" called a voice some distance away--a voice I recognised with a thrill. "Reggie!"

"Imp, would you like half a crown?"

"'Course I would; but you might clean my back, please," and he began rubbing himself feverishly with his cap, after the fashion of a scrubbing brush.

"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 s.e.x."

"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 d.i.c.k."

"But you're not my Uncle d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k."

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, Dorothy!" cried the imp; "this is Uncle d.i.c.k. You can come an'

shake hands with him if you like."

"I didn't know I had an Uncle d.i.c.k," said Dorothy, hesitating.

"Oh, yes; it's all right," answered the Imp rea.s.suringly. "I found him, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"

"How do you do, Uncle d.i.c.k?" she said in a quaint, old-fashioned way.

"Reginald is always finding things, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"

Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.

From somewhere near by there came the silvery chime of a bell.

"Why, there's the tea-bell!" exclaimed Lisbeth; "and, Reginald, you have to change those muddy clothes. Say good-bye to Mr. Brent, children, and come along."

"Imp," I whispered as the others turned away, "where did you hide those stockings?" And I slipped the half crown into his ready palm.

"Along the river there's a tree--very big an' awfull' fat, you know, with a lot of stickie-out branches, an' a hole in its stomach--they're in there."

"Reginald!" called Lisbeth.

"Up stream or down?"

"That way," he answered, pointing vaguely down stream; and with a nod that brought the yellow curls over his eyes he scampered off.

"Along the river," I repeated, "in a big, fat tree with a lot of stickie-out branches!" It sounded a trifle indefinite, I thought--still I could but try. So having packed up my rod I set out upon the search.

It was strange, perhaps, but nearly every tree I saw seemed to be either "big" or "fat"--and all of them had "stickie-out" branches.

Thus the sun was already low in the west, and I was lighting my fifth pipe when I at length observed the tree in question.

A great pollard oak it was, standing upon the very edge of the stream, easily distinguishable by its unusual size and the fact that at some time or another it had been riven by lightning. After all, the Imp's description had been in the main correct; it was "fat," immensely fat: and I hurried joyfully forward.

I was still some way off when I saw the distant flutter of a white skirt, and--yes, sure enough, there was Lisbeth, walking quickly too, and she was a great deal nearer the tree than I.

Prompted by a sudden conviction, I dropped my rod and began to run.

Immediately Lisbeth began running, too. I threw away my creel and sprinted for all I was worth. I had earned some small fame at this sort of thing in my university days, yet I arrived at the tree with only a very few yards to spare. Throwing myself upon my knees, I commenced a feverish search, and presently--more by good fortune than any thing else--my random fingers encountered a soft, silken bundle.

When Lisbeth came up, flushed and panting, I held them in my hands.

"Give them to me!" she cried.

"I'm sorry--"

"Please," she begged.

"I'm very sorry--"

"Mr. Brent." said Lisbeth, drawing her self up, "I'll trouble you for my--them."

"Pardon me, Lisbeth," I answered, "but if I remember anything of the law of 'treasure-trove' one of these should go to the Crown, and one belongs to me."

Lisbeth grew quite angry--one of her few bad traits.

"You will give them up at once--immediately?

"On the contrary," I said very gently, "seeing the Crown can have no use for one, I shall keep them both to dream over when the nights are long and lonely."

Lisbeth actually stamped her foot at me, and I tucked "them" into my pocket.

"How did you know they--they were here?" she inquired after a pause.