A door opened and closed very softly, and Lisbeth came towards us
down the path, whereupon the Imp immediately "took cover" in the
ditch.
"He is dead, Dick!" she said as I opened the gate. "He died in
his son's arms - the George he was always talking about. And oh,
Dick, he died trying to sing 'The British Grenadiers."
"Poor old Jasper!" I said.
"His son was a convict once, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"It was strange that he should come back as he did - just in time;
it almost seems like the hand of Providence, doesn't it, Dick?"
"Yes." Lisbeth was standing with her elbows upon the gate and her
chin in her hands, staring up at the moon, and I saw that her eyes
were wet with tears.
"Why, where is your cap ?" she exclaimed when at last she
condescended to look at me.
"On the head of an escaped convict,"
I answered.
"Do you mean - "
"The 'bye Jarge,'" I nodded.
"Oh, Dick!"
"Yes, Lisbeth; it was a ridiculous piece of sentiment I admit. Your
1aw abiding, level-headed citizen would doubtless be highly shocked,
not to say scandalised; likewise the Law might get up on its hind
legs and kick - quite unpleasantly; but all the same, I did it"
"You were never what one might call - very 'level-headed,' were you,
Dick?"
"No, I'm afraid not.
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