"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 was so very, very persistent, Imp," she sad, actually turning crimson beneath his reproachful eye.
"Don't be too hard on us, Imp," I pleaded.
"I s'pose it can't be helped now," he said, a little mollified, but frowning sternly, nevertheless.
"No," I answered, with my eyes upon Lisbeth's lovely, blushing face, "it certainly can't be helped now."
"And you'll never do it again?"
"Never again, Imp."