pon the old fellow's illness, Lisbeth had promptly set herself
to see that he was made comfortable, for Jasper was a lonely old
man--had installed a competent nurse beside him, and made it a custom
morning and evening to go and see that all was well. It was for this
reason that I sat upon the Shrubbery gate towards nine o'clock of a
certain evening, swinging my legs and listening for the sound of her
step along the path. In the fulness of time she came, and getting off
my perch, I took the heavy basket from her arm, as was usual.

"Dick," she said as we walked on side by side, "really I'm getting
quite worried about that Imp."

"What has he been up to this time?" I inquired.

"I'm afraid he must be ill."

"He looked anything but ill yesterday," I answered reassuringly.

"Yes, I know he looks healthy enough," said Lisbeth, wrinkling her
brows; "but lately he has developed such an enormous appetite. Oh,
Dick, 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 find myself 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, Dick! 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 o