"
"Where?" I cried eagerly.
"Reggie!" called a voice some distance away - a voice I recognised
with a thrill. "Reggie!"
"Imp, would you like half a crown?"
"'Course I would; but you might clean my back, please," and he began
rubbing himself feverishly with his cap, after the fashion of a
scrubbing brush.
"Look here," I said, pulling out the coin, "tell me where you hid
them - quick - and I'll give you this." The Imp held out his hand,
but even as he did so the bushes parted and Lisbeth stood before
us. She gave a little, low cry of surprise at sight of me, and
then frowned.
"You?" she exclaimed.
"Yes," I answered, raising my cap. And there I stopped, trying
frantically to remember the speech I had so carefully prepared - the
greeting which was to have explained my conduct and disarmed her
resentment at the very outset. But rack my brain as I would, I
could think of nothing but the reproach in her eyes - her disdainful
mouth and chin - and that one haunting phrase:
"'I suppose I am become the object of your bitterest scorn by now?'"
I found myself saying.
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