"Is that why she's angry with you?"
"Probably."
The Imp was silent, apparently plunged once more in a profound meditation.
"'Fraid there's something wrong with her," he said at last, shaking his head; "she's always getting angry with everybody 'bout something--you an' me an' Mr. Selwyn----"
"Mr. Selwyn!" I exclaimed. "Imp, what do you mean?"
"Well, she got cross with me first--an' over such a little thing too! We were in the orchard, an' I spilt some lemonade on her gown--only about half a glass, you know, an' when she went to wipe it off she hadn't a handkerchief, an' 'course I had none. So she told me to fetch one, an' I was just going when Mr. Selwyn came, so I said, 'Would he lend Auntie Lisbeth his handkerchief, 'cause she wanted one to wipe her dress?' an' he said 'Delighted!' Then Auntie frowned at me an' shook her head when he wasn't looking. But Mr. Selwyn took out his handkerchief, an' got down on his knees, an' began to wipe off the lemonade, telling her something 'bout his 'heart,' an' wishing he could 'kneel at her feet for ever'! Auntie got awfull' red, and told him to stand up, but he wouldn't; an' then she looked at me so awfull' cross that I thought I'd better leave, so while she was saying, 'Rise, Mr. Selwyn--do!' I ran away, only I could tell she was awfull' angry with Mr. Selwyn--an' that's all!"
I rose to my knees, and caught the Imp by the shoulders.
"Imp," I cried, "are you sure--quite sure that she was angry with Mr. Selwyn yesterday morning?"
"'Course I am. I always know when Auntie Lisbeth's angry. An' now let's go an' play at 'Blasted Oaks.'"
"Anything you like, Imp, so long as we find her."