"No; but I do; I want to get down. That little wretched Imp hid the ladder, and I've been here all the afternoon," she wailed. "But then you refused to be an elephant, you know," I reminded her. "He shall go to bed for it--directly after tea!" she said. "Lisbeth," I returned, "I firmly believe your nature to be altogether too sweet and forgiving--" "I want to come down!" "Certainly," I said; "put your left foot in my right hand, take firm hold of the branch above and let yourself sink gently into my arms." "Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, "here's Mr. Selwyn coming," and following her glance, I saw a distant Panama approaching. "Lisbeth," said I, "are you anxious to see him?" "In this ridiculous situation--of course not!" "Very well then, hide--just sit there and leave matters to me and--" "Hush," she whispered, and at that moment Selwyn emerged into full view. Catching sight of me he stopped in evident surprise. "I was told I should find Miss Elizabeth here," he said stiffly. "It would almost appear that you had been misinformed," I answered. For a moment he seemed undecided what to do. Would he go away? I wondered. Evidently not, for after glancing about him he sat himself down upon a rustic seat near-by with a certain resolute air that I did not like. I must get rid of him at all hazards. "Sir," said I, "can I trespass on your generosity to the extent of a match or say a couple?" After a brief hesitation he drew out a very neat silver match-box, which he handed to me. "A fine day, sir?" I said, puffing at my pipe. Mr. Selwyn made no reply. "I hear that the crops are looking particularly healthy this year," I went on. Mr. Selwyn appeared to be utterly lost in the contemplation of an adjacent tree. "To my mind an old apple tree is singularly picturesque," I began again, "nice nobbly branches, don't you know." Mr. Selwyn began to fidget. "And then," I pursued, "they tell me that apples are so good for the blood." Mr. Selwyn shifted his gaze to the toe of his riding boot, and for a space there was silence, so much so, indeed, that an inquisitive rabbit crept up and sat down to watch us with much interest, until--evidently remembering some pressing engagement--he disappeared with a flash of his white tail. "Talking of rabbits," said I, "they are quite a pest in Australia, I believe, and are exterminated by the thousand; I have often wondered if a syndicate could not be formed to acquire the skins--this idea, so far as I know, is original, but you are quite welcome to it if--" Mr. Selwyn rose abruptly to his feet. "I once in my boyhood possessed a rabbit--of the lop-eared variety," I continued, "which overate itself and died. I remember I attempted to skin it with dire results--" "Sir." said Mr. Selwyn. "I beg to inform you that I am not interested in rabbits, lop-eared or otherwise, nor do I propose to become so; furthermore--"