"It was very nice, Mr. Pixyweevil," said Jimmieboy, as he rose to depart. "And I am very much obliged."
"Thank you," returned Pixyweevil. "You are very polite, and exceedingly truthful. I believe myself that, as that 'Splendid' poem might say, if it had time,
"I've truly ended
Splen-did-ly."
And then Jimmieboy and the Imp passed out of the library back through the music and cookery room. The Imp unlocked the door, and, fixing the wires, sent Jimmieboy sliding down to the back hall, whence he had originally entered the little telephone closet.
"Hullo!" said his papa. "Where have you been?"
"Having a good time," said Jimmieboy.
"And what have you done with the key of my cigar-box?"
"Oh, I forgot," said Jimmieboy. "I left it in the telephone door."
"What a queer place to leave it," said his papa. "Let me have it, please, for I want to smoke."
And Jimmieboy went to get it, and, sure enough, there it was in the little box, and it unlocked it, too; but when his father came to open the door and look inside, the Imp had disappeared.