e gateway surmounted by a crumbling stone cross.

"Why," exclaimed the Imp, staring, "this is a church!"

"Imp," I nodded, "I believe it is?"

"But to-day isn't Sunday, you know," he remonstrated, seeing it was our
intention to land.

"Never mind that, Imp; 'the better the deed, the better the day, you
know.'"

On we went, Dorothy with the fluffy Louise beneath her arm and the Imp
with cutlass swinging at his belt, while Lisbeth and I brought up the
rear, and as we went she slipped her hand into mine. In the porch we
came upon an aged woman busy with a broom and a very large duster, who,
catching sight of Dorothy's kitten and the Imp's "murderous weapon,"
dropped first the duster and then the broom, and stood staring in
open-mouthed astonishment.

And there in the dim old church, with the morning sun making a glory of
the window above our heads, and with the birds for our choristers, the
vows were exchanged and the blessing pronounced that gave Lisbeth and
her future into my keeping; yet I think we were both conscious of those
two small figures in the gloom of the great pew behind, who stared in
round-eyed wonderment.

The register duly signed and all formalities over and done, we go out
into the sunshine; and once more the aged woman, richer now by half a
crown, is reduced to mute astonishment, so that speech is beyond her,
when the Imp, lifting his feathered cap, politely wishes her
"good-morning."

Being come aboard the Joyful Hope, there ensued an awkward pause,
during which Lisbeth looked at the children and I at her.

"We must take them back home," she said at last.

"We shall miss our train, Lisbeth."

"But," and here she blushed most delightfully, "there is really no
hurry; we can take a--a later one."

"So be it," I said, and laid our course accordingly.

For a time there was silence, during which the Imp, as if in momentary
expectation of an attack by bloodthirsty foes, scowled about him,
pistol in hand, keeping, as he said, "his weather eye lifting," while
Dorothy glanced from Lisbeth to me and back again with puzzled brows.

"I do believe you have been marrying each other!" she said suddenly.
The Imp forgot all about his "weather eye" and stared aghast.

"'Course not!" he cried at last. "Uncle Dick wouldn't do such a thing,
would you, Uncle Dick?"

"Imp I have--I do confess it."

"Oh!" he exclaimed in a tone of deepest tragedy. "And you let him go
and do it, Auntie Lisbeth?"

"He wa