ive the Imp--full and freely,
won't you?"

"He shall go to bed without any tea whatever."

"That will be rank cruelty, Lisbeth; remember he is a growing boy."

"And I have been perched up here--between heaven and earth--all the
afternoon."

"Then why not come down?" I inquired.

"If you will only get the ladder--"

"If you will just put your right foot in my--"

"I won't!" said Lisbeth.

"As you please," I nodded, and sitting down, mechanically took out my
pipe and began to fill it, while she opened her book, frowning. And
after she had read very studiously for perhaps two minutes, she drew
out and consulted her watch. I did the same.

"A quarter to five!" I said.

Lisbeth glanced down at me with the air of one who is deliberating upon
two courses of action, and when at length she spoke, every trace of
irritation had vanished completely.

"Dick, I'm awfully hungry."

"So am I," I nodded.

"It would be nice to have tea here under the trees, wouldn't it?"

"It would be positively idyllic!" I said.

"Then if you will please find that ladder--"

"If you will promise to forgive the Imp--"

"Certainly not!" she retorted.

"So be it!" I sighed, and sat down again. As I did so she launched her
book at me.

"Beast!" she exclaimed.

"Which means that you are ready to descend?" I inquired, rising and
depositing the maltreated volume side by side with my pipe on a rustic
table near-by; "very good. Place your right foot in--"

"Oh, all right," she said quite pettishly, and next moment I had her in
my arms.

"Dick! put me down-at once!"

"One moment, Lisbeth; that boy is a growing boy--"

"And shall go to bed without any tea!" she broke in.

"Very well, then," I said, and reading the purpose in my eyes, she
attempted, quite vainly, to turn her head aside.

"You will find it quite useless to struggle, Lisbeth," I warned. "Your
only course is to remember that he is a growing boy."

"And you are a brute!" she cried.

"Undoubtedly," I answered, bending my head nearer her petulant lips.

"But think of the Imp in bed, lying there, sleepless, tealess, and
growing all the while as fast as he can."

Lisbeth surrendered, of course, but my triumph was greatly tempered
with disappointment.

"You will then forgive him for the 'ambushes' and cherish him with much
tea?" I stipulated, winking away a tress of hair that tickled most
provokingly.

"Yes," said Lisbeth.

"And no bed until the usual hour?"