"Thanks," I said; "but let me beg of you to drop your very distant mode of address. Call me Uncle Dick."
"But you're not my Uncle Dick, you know," he demurred.
"Not yet, perhaps; but there's no knowing what may happen some day if your Auntie thinks us worthy--so take time by the forelock, my Imp, and call me Uncle Dick."
Whatever Lisbeth might or might not have said was checked by the patter of footsteps, and a little girl tripped into view, with a small, fluffy kitten cuddled in her arms.
"Oh, Auntie Lisbeth," she began, but stopped to stare at me over the back of the fluffy kitten.
"Hallo, Dorothy!" cried the Imp; "this is Uncle Dick. You can come an' shake hands with him if you like."
"I didn't know I had an Uncle Dick," said Dorothy, hesitating.
"Oh yes; it's all right," answered the Imp reassuringly. "I found him, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"
Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.
"How do you do, Uncle Dick?" she said in a quaint, old-fashioned way. "Reginald is always finding things, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"