"Yes, Uncle Dick," he said, taking it from me, but keeping his face turned away.
"And now good-bye, Imp!"
"Good-bye!" he answered, still without looking at me.
"Won't you shake hands?"
He thrust out a grimy little palm, and as I clasped it I saw a big tear roll down his cheek.
"You'll come back soon—very soon—Uncle Dick?"
"Yes, I'll come back, my Imp."
"So—help you—Sam?"
"So help me Sam!"
And thus it was we parted, the Imp and I, beneath the "blasted oak," and I know my heart was strangely heavy as I turned away and left him.