"And how is Louise?" I inquired, pulling the fluffy kitten's nearest ear.
"Very well, thank you," answered Dorothy demurely; "but oh dear me! kittens 'are such a constant source of worry and anxiety!' Auntie Lisbeth sometimes says that about Reginald and me. I wonder what she would say if we were kittens!"
"Bye the bye, where is your Auntie Lisbeth?" I asked in a strictly conversational tone.
"Well, she's lying in the old boat."
"In the old boat!" I repeated.
"Yes," nodded Dorothy; "when it's nice and warm and sleepy, like to-day, she takes a book, and a pillow, and a sunshade, and she goes and lies in the old boat under the Water-stairs. There, just look at this naughty Louise!" she broke off, as the kitten scrambled up to her shoulder and stood there, balancing itself very dextrously with curious angular movements of its tail; "that's because she thinks I've forgotten her milk, you know; she's dreadfully impatient, but I suppose I must humour her this once. Good-afternoon!" And, having given me her hand in her demure, old-fashioned way, Dorothy hurried off, the kitten still perched upon her shoulder, its tail jerking spasmodically with her every step.
In a little while I came in view of the Water-stairs, yet although I paused more than once to look about me, I saw no sign of the Imp. Thinking he was most probably 'in ambush' somewhere, I continued my way, whistling an air out of "The Geisha" to attract his notice. Ten minutes or more elapsed, however, without any sign of him, and I was already close to the stairs, when I stopped whistling all at once, and holding my breath, crept forward on tiptoe.
There before me was the old boat, and in it—her cheek upon a crimson cushion and the sun making a glory of her tumbled hair—was Lisbeth—asleep.
Being come as near as I dared for fear of waking her, I sat down, and lighting my pipe, fell to watching her—the up-curving shadow of her lashes, the gleam of teeth between the scarlet of her parted lips, and the soft undulation of her bosom. And from the heavy braids of her hair my glance wandered down to the little tan shoe peeping at me beneath her skirt, and I called to mind how Goethe has said:
'A pretty foot is not only a continual joy, but it is the one element of beauty that defies the assaults of Time.'