and--why, whatever have you been doing
to yourself?"

"For the last half hour," I interposed, "we have been exchanging our
opinions on the sex."

"An' talking 'bout worms," added the Imp. "This man is fond of worms,
too, Auntie Lisbeth--I like him."

"Thanks," I said; "but let me beg of you to drop your very distant mode
of address, Call me Uncle Dick."

"But you're not my Uncle Dick, you know," he demurred.

"Not yet, perhaps; but there's no knowing what may happen some day if
your Auntie thinks us worthy--so take time by the forelock, my Imp, and
call me Uncle Dick."

Whatever Lisbeth might or might not have said was checked by the patter
of footsteps, and a little girl tripped into view, with a small, fluffy
kitten cuddled in her arms.

"Oh, Auntie Lisbeth," she began, but stopped to stare at me over the
back of the fluffy kitten.

"Hallo, Dorothy!" cried the imp; "this is Uncle Dick. You can come an'
shake hands with him if you like."

"I didn't know I had an Uncle Dick," said Dorothy, hesitating.

"Oh, yes; it's all right," answered the Imp reassuringly. "I found
him, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"

"How do you do, Uncle Dick?" she said in a quaint, old-fashioned way.
"Reginald is always finding things, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"
Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.

From somewhere near by there came the silvery chime of a bell.

"Why, there's the tea-bell!" exclaimed Lisbeth; "and, Reginald, you
have to change those muddy clothes. Say good-bye to Mr. Brent,
children, and come along."

"Imp," I whispered as the others turned away, "where did you hide those
stockings?" And I slipped the half crown into his ready palm.

"Along the river there's a tree--very big an' awfull' fat, you know,
with a lot of stickie-out branches, an' a hole in its stomach--they're
in there."

"Reginald!" called Lisbeth.

"Up stream or down?"

"That way," he answered, pointing vaguely down stream; and with a nod
that brought the yellow curls over his eyes he scampered off.

"Along the river," I repeated, "in a big, fat tree with a lot of
stickie-out branches!" It sounded a trifle indefinite, I
thought--still I could but try. So having packed up my rod I set out
upon the search.

It was strange, perhaps, but nearly every tree I saw seemed to be
either "big" or "fat"--and all of them had "stickie-out" branches.

Thus the sun was already low in the west, and I was lighting my fifth
pipe when I at