"We shall miss our train, Lisbeth."
"But," and here she blushed most delightfully, "there is really no hurry; we can take a--a later one."
"So be it," I said, and laid our course accordingly.
For a time there was silence, during which the Imp, as if in momentary expectation of an attack by bloodthirsty foes, scowled about him, pistol in hand, keeping, as he said, "his weather eye lifting," while Dorothy glanced from Lisbeth to me and back again with puzzled brows.
"I do believe you have been marrying each other!" she said suddenly. The Imp forgot all about his "weather eye" and stared aghast.
"'Course not," he cried at last. "Uncle Dick wouldn't do such a thing, would you, Uncle Dick?"
"Imp, I have--I do confess it."
"Oh!" he exclaimed in a tone of deepest tragedy. "And you let him go and do it, Auntie Lisbeth?"
"He was so very, very persistent, Imp," she said, actually turning crimson beneath his reproachful eye.
"Don't be too hard on us, Imp," I pleaded.