"Reginald?" she repeated, looking from one to the other of us with that expression which always renews within me the memory of my boyish misdeeds, "why are you not asleep in bed?"
"'Cause I had to go an' feed my outlaw, Auntie Lisbeth."
"And," I put in to create a diversion, "incidentally I've discovered the secret of his 'enormous appetite.' It is explained in three words, to wit, 'the bye Jarge."
"Do you mean to say—" began Lisbeth.
"Fed him regularly twice a day," I went on, "and nearly famished himself in the doing of it—you remember the dry-bread incident?"
"Imp!" cried Lisbeth; "Imp!" And she had him next moment in her arms.
"But Uncle Dick gave him a whole sovereign, you know," he began; "an'—"
"I sent him to a certain house, Lisbeth," I said, as her eyes met mine; "an old house that stands not far from the village of Down, in Kent, to prune the roses and things. I should like it to be looking its best when we get there; and—"
"An' my outlaw kissed Uncle Dick's hand," pursued the Imp. "Don't you think he must love him an awful lot?"
"I gave him a month to do it in," I went on; "but a month seems much too long when one comes to consider—what do you think, Lisbeth?"