"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.
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