"Dear old house!" said Lisbeth, more softly than before.
"How much longer must it wait—when will you come and care for it, Lisbeth?"
She started, and I thought her cheeks seemed a trifle pinker than usual as her eyes met mine.
"Dick," she said wistfully, "I do wish you would get the ladder; it's horribly uncomfortable to sit in a tree for hours and—"
"First of all, Lisbeth, you will forgive 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—"