In less time almost than it takes to
tell the plate was empty. Yet scarcely had he swallowed the last
mouthful when he heard Mr. Selwyn's voice close by. In his haste the
Imp dropped his cap, a glaring affair of red and white, and before he
could recover it Lisbeth reappeared, followed by Mr. Selwyn.

--"It certainly is more pleasant out here!" he was saying.

Lisbeth came straight towards the cap-it was a moral impossibility that
she could fail to see it--yet she sank into her chair without word or
sign. Mr. Selwyn, on the contrary, stood with the empty ice plate in
his hand, staring at it in wide-eyed astonishment.

"It's gone!" he exclaimed.

"Oh!" said Lisbeth.

"Most extraordinary!" Said Mr. Selwyn, fixing his monocle and staring
harder than ever; "I wonder where it can have got to?"

"Perhaps it melted!" Lisbeth suggested, "and I should so have loved an
ice!" she sighed.

"Then, of course, I'll get you another, with pleasure," he said and
hurried off, eyeing the plate dubiously as he went.

No sooner was Lisbeth alone than she kicked aside the train of her
dress and picked up the tell-tale cap.

"Imp!" she whispered, rising to her feet, "Imp, come here at once,
sir!" There was a moment's breathless pause, and then the Imp squirmed
himself into view.

"Hallo, Auntie Lisbeth!" he said, with a cheerfulness wholly assumed.

"Oh!" she cried, distressfully, "whatever does this mean; what are you
doing here? Oh, you naughty boy!"

"Lisbeth," I said, as I rose in my turn and confronted her, "Do not
blame the child--the fault is mine--let me explain; by means of a
ladder--"

"Not here," she whispered, glancing nervously towards the ball-room.

"Then come where I can."

"Impossible!"

"Not at all; you have only to descend these steps and we can talk
undisturbed."

"Ridiculous!" she said, stooping to replace the Imp's cap; but being
thus temptingly within reach, she was next moment beside us in the
shadows.

"Dick, how could you, how dared you?"

"You see, I had to explain," I answered very humbly; "I really couldn't
allow this poor child to bear the blame of my fault--"

"I'm not a 'poor child,' Uncle Dick," expostulated the Imp; "I'm a
gallant knight and--"

"--The blame of my fault, Lisbeth," I continued, "I alone must face
your just resentment, for--"

"Hush!" she whispered, glancing hastily about.

"--For, by means of a ladder, Lisbeth, a common or garden ladder--"

"Oh, do be quie