My Lady Caprice | Page 5

his little brown legs well apart, regarding me
with a critical eye; but when at length he spoke his attitude was
decidedly friendly.
"Hallo, man!"
"Hallo," I returned; "and whom may you be?"
"Well," my real name is Reginald Augustus, but they call me 'The
Imp.'"
"I can well believe it," I said, eyeing his muddy person.
"If you please, what is an imp?"
"An imp is a sort of an - angel."
"But," he demurred, after a moment's thought, "I haven't got wings an'
things - or a trumpet."
"Your kind never do have wings and trumpets."
"Oh, I see," he said; and sitting down began to wipe the mud from his
legs with his stockings.
"Rather muddy, aren't you?" I hinted. The boy cast a furtive glance at
his draggled person.
"'Fraid I'm a teeny bit wet, too," he said hesitatingly. "You see, I've
been playing at 'Romans" an' I had to wade, you know, because I was
the standard bearer who jumped into the sea waving his sword an'
crying, 'Follow me!' You remember him, don't you? - he's in the history
book."
"To be sure," I nodded; "a truly heroic character. But if you were the
Romans, where were the ancient Britons?"
"Oh, they were the reeds, you know; you ought to have seen me slay
them. It was fine; they went down like - like - "
"Corn before a sickle," I suggested.
"Yes, just!" he cried; "the battle raged for hours."
"You must be rather tired."
"'Course not," he answered, with an indignant look. "I'm not a girl - and

I'm nearly nine, too."
"I gather from your tone that you are not partial to the sex - you don't
like girls, eh, Imp?"
"Should think not," he returned; silly things, girls are. There's Dorothy,
you know; we were playing at executions the other day - she was Mary
Queen of Scots an' I was the headsman. I made a lovely axe with wood
and silver paper, you know; and when I cut her head off she cried
awfully, and I only gave her the weeniest little tap - an' they sent me to
bed at six o'clock for it. I believe she cried on purpose - awfully
caddish, wasn't it?"
"My dear Imp," said I, "the older you grow, the more the depravity of
the sex will become apparent to you."
"Do you know, I like you," he said, regarding me thoughtfully, "I think
you are fine."
"Now that's very nice of you, Imp; in common with my kind I have a
weakness for flattery-please go on."
"I mean, I think you are jolly."
"As to that," I said, shaking my head and sighing, "appearances are
often very deceptive; at the heart of many a fair blossom there is a
canker worm."
"I'm awfull' fond of worms, too," said the Imp.
"Indeed?"
"Yes. I got a pocketful yesterday, only Aunty found out an' made me let
them all go again."
"Ah-yes," I said sympathetically; "that was the woman of it."
"I've only got one left now," continued the Imp; and thrusting a hand
into the pocket of his knickerbockers he drew forth six inches or so of
slimy worm and held it out to me upon his small, grimy palm.
"He's nice and fat!" I said.
"Yes," nodded the Imp; "I caught him under the gooseberry bushes;"
and dropping it back into his pocket he proceeded to don his shoes and
stockings.
"Fraid I'm a bit muddy," he said suddenly.
"Oh, you might be worse," I answered reassuringly.
"Do you think they'll notice it?" he inquired, contorting himself
horribly in order to view the small of his back.
"Well," I hesitated, "it all depends, you know."

"I don't mind Dorothy, or Betty the cook, or the governess - it's Auntie
Lisbeth I'm thinking about."
"Auntie - who?" I exclaimed, regardless of grammar.
" Auntie Lisbeth," repeated the Imp.
"What is she like?"
"Oh, she's grown up big, only she's nice. She came to take care of
Dorothy an' me while mother goes away to get nice an strong - oh
Auntie Lisbeth's jolly, you know."
"With black hair and blue eyes?"
The Imp nodded.
"And a dimple at the corner of her mouth?" I went on dreamily - " a
dimple that would lead a man to the - Old Gentleman himself."
"What old gentleman?"
"Oh, a rather disreputable old gentleman," I answered evasively.
"An' do you know my Auntie Lisbeth?"
"I think it extremely probable - in fact, I'm sure of it."
"Then you might end me your handkerchief, please; I tied mine to a
bush for a flag, you know, an' it blew away."
"You'd better come here and I'll give you a rub-down my Imp." He
obeyed, with many profuse expressions of