As I watched her and noticed her weary, bored
air, and how wistfully she gazed up at the silver disc of the moon,
I experienced a feeling of decided satisfaction.
"Yes," said Lisbeth, toying absently with the ice cream, "he painted
Dorothy's face with stripes of red and green enamel, and goodness
only knows how we can ever get it all off!"
Mr. Selwyn was duly shocked and murmured something about 'the
efficacy of turpentine' in such an emergency.
"Of course, I had to punish him," continued Lisbeth, "so I sent him
to bed immediately after tea, and never went to say good-night, or
tuck him up as I usually do, and it has been worrying me all the
evening."
Mr. Selwyn was sure that he was all right, and positively certain
that at this moment he was wrapped in balmy slumber. Despite my
warning grasp, the Imp chuckled, but we were saved by the band
striking up. Mr. Selwyn rose, giving his arm to Lisbeth, and they
re-entered the ball-room. One by one the other couples followed
suit until the long terrace was deserted. Now, upon Lisbeth's
deserted chair, showing wonderfully pink in the soft glow of the
Chinese lanterns, was the ice cream.
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