"In the boat?" "I never said so?" "Not in words, perhaps, but you implied as much." Lisbeth had the grace to blush. "Do I understand that I am not forgiven after all?" "Not until I know why you did such a mad, thoughtless trick," she answered, with that determined set of her chin which I knew so well. That I should thus shoulder the responsibility for the Imp's misdeeds was ridiculous, and wrong as it was unjust, for if ever boy deserved punishment that boy was the Imp. And yet, probably because he was the Imp, or because of that school-boy honour which forbids "sneaking," and which I carried with me still, I held my peace; seeing which, Lisbeth turned and left me. I stood where I was, with head bent in an attitude suggestive of innocence, broken hopes, and gentle resignation, but in vain; she never once looked back. Still, martyr though I was, the knowledge that I had immolated myself upon the altar of friendship filled me with a sense of conscious virtue that I found not ill-pleasing. Howbeit, seeing I am but human after all, I sat down and re-filling my pipe, fell once more anathematising the Imp. "Hist!" A small shape flittered from behind an adjacent tree, and lo! the subject of my thoughts stood before me. Imp' I said "come here." He obeyed readily. "When you cut that rope and set your Auntie Lisbeth adrift, you didn't remember the man who was drowned in the weir last month, did you?" "No!" he answered, staring. "Of course not," I nodded; "but all the same it is not your fault that your Auntie Lisbeth is not drowned--just as he was." "Oh!" exclaimed the Imp, and his beloved bow slipped from his nerveless fingers. "Imp," I went on, "it was a wicked thing to cut that rope, a mean, cruel trick, Don't you think so?" "I 'specks it was, Uncle Dick." "Don't you think you ought to be punished?" He nodded. "Very well," I answered, "I'll punish you myself. Go and cut me a nice, straight switch," and I handed him my open penknife. Round-eyed, the Imp obeyed, and for a space there was a prodigious cracking and snapping of sticks. In a little while he returned with three, also the blade of my knife was broken, for which he was profusely apologetic. "Now," I said as I selected the weapon fittest for the purpose, "I am going to strike you hard on either hand with this stick that is, if you think you deserve it." "Was Aunt Lisbeth nearly drowned--really?" he inquired. "Very nearly, and was only saved by a chance." "All right, Uncle Dick, hit me," he said, and held out his hand. The stick whizzed and fell--once--twice. I saw his face grow scarlet and the tears leap to his eyes, but he uttered no sound. "Did it hurt very much, my Imp?" I inquired, as I tossed the stick aside. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, while I turned to light my pipe, wasting three matches quite fruitlessly. "Uncle Dick," he burst out at last, struggling manfully against his sobs, "I--I'm awfull'--sorry--"