"And quite right, too," said Dorothy; "everybody always marries somebody, some time; it's very fashionable at present. Mamma did and so shall I when I grow up, I suppose."
"Goodness gracious, child!" exclaimed Lady Warburton.
"I s'pose you're angry 'bout it, Aunt," pursued the Imp. "I was at first—just a weeny bit; but you see Uncle Dick has a wonderful house with swords an' armour, but empty, an' he wanted to keep somebody in it to see that everything was nice, I s'pose, an' sing, you know, an' take care of his life. Auntie Lisbeth can sing, an' she wanted to go, so I forgave them."
"Oh, indeed, Reginald?" said Lady Warburton in a rather queer voice, and I saw the corners of her high, thin nose quiver strangely.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma' am," said Peter at this moment, touching his cap, "I don't know much about boats, my line bein' 'osses, but I do think as this 'ere boat is a-goin' to sink."
"Then row for the shore instantly," said Lady Warburton firmly, "and should I never reach it alive"—here she brought her lorgnette to bear on Lisbeth—"I say if I do meet a watery grave this day, my epitaph shall be, 'Drowned by the Ingratitude of a Niece.'"
However, this gloomy tragedy being happily averted, and Lady Warburton safely landed, I, at a nod from Lisbeth, rowed to the bank likewise and we all disembarked together.
Now, as kind Fortune would have it, and Fortune was very kind that morning, the place where we stood was within a stone's throw of The Three Jolly Anglers, and wafted to us on the warm, still air there came a wondrous fragrance, far sweeter and more alluring than the breath of roses or honeysuckle—the delightful aroma of frying bacon.
Lady Warburton faced us, her parasol tucked beneath her arm, looking very much like a military officer on parade.
"Dorothy and Reginald," she said in a short, sharp voice of command, "bid good-bye to your Auntie Lisbeth and accompany me home at once."