"Thumb-nail!"
"Yes, just like a thumb-nail; and so they go on working and working at it until it gets as big and round and bright as it is to-night."
Thus we walked together through a fairy world, the Imp and I, while above the murmur of the waters, above the sighing of the trees, came the soft tremulous melody of the violins.
"I do wish I had lived when there were knights like Ivanhoe," burst out the Imp suddenly; "it must have been fine to knock a man off his horse with your lance."
"Always supposing he didn't knock you off first, Imp."
"Oh! I should have been the sort of knight that nobody could knock off, you know. An' I'd have wandered about on my faithful charger, fighting all sorts of caddish barons and caitiffs, an' slaying giants; an' I'd have rescued lovely ladies from castles grim--though I wouldn't have put my arm round them, of course!
"Perish the thought, my Imp!"
"Uncle Dick!" he said insinuatingly, "I do wish you'd be the Black Knight, an' let me be Ivanhoe."
"But there are no caitiffs and things left for us to fight, Imp, and no lovely ladies to rescue from castles grim, alas!"
Now we had been walking on, drawn almost imperceptibly by the magic thread of the melody, which had led us, by devious paths, to a low stone wall, beyond which we could see the gleam of lighted windows and the twinkle of fairy lamps among the trees. And over there, amid the music and laughter, was Lisbeth in all the glory of her beauty, happy, of course, and light-hearted; and here, beneath the moon, was I.