"Oh, Uncle Dick," he panted, "how—how fine you are! you knocked yon footman—I mean varlet—from his saddle like—like anything. Oh, I do wish you would play like this every night!"
"Heaven forbid!" I exclaimed fervently.
Coming at last to the shrubbery gate, we paused awhile to regain our breath.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp, regarding me with a thoughtful eye, "did you see his arm—I mean before you smote him 'hip and thigh'?"
"I did."
"It was round her waist."
"Imp, it was."
"Just like Peter's?"
"Yes."
"An' the man with the funny name?"