"All right," he whispered, "I won't be a minute," and before I could stop him he had scrambled down the steps and fallen to upon the ice cream.
The wonderful celerity with which the Imp wolfed down that ice cream was positively awe-inspiring. In less time almost than it takes to tell the plate was empty. Yet scarcely had he swallowed the last mouthful when he heard Mr. Selwyn's voice close by. In his haste the Imp dropped his cap, a glaring affair of red and white, and before he could recover it Lisbeth reappeared, followed by Mr. Selwyn.
—"It certainly is more pleasant out here!" he was saying.
Lisbeth came straight towards the cap—it was a moral impossibility that she could fail to see it—yet she sank into her chair without word or sign. Mr. Selwyn, on the contrary, stood with the empty ice plate in his hand, staring at it in wide-eyed astonishment.
"It's gone!" he exclaimed.
"Oh!" said Lisbeth.
"Most extraordinary!" Said Mr. Selwyn, fixing his monocle and staring harder than ever; "I wonder where it can have got to?"
"Perhaps it melted!" Lisbeth suggested, "and I should so have loved an ice!" she sighed.
"Then, of course, I'll get you another, with pleasure," he said and hurried off, eyeing the plate dubiously as he went.
No sooner was Lisbeth alone than she kicked aside the train of her dress and picked up the tell-tale cap.