"
The Imp was silent, apparently plunged once more in a profound
meditation.
"'Fraid there's something wrong with her," he said at last, shaking
his head; "she's always getting angry with everybody 'bout something
- you an' me an' Mr. Selwyn
"Mr. Selwyn!" I exclaimed. "Imp, what do you mean?"
"'Well, she got cross with me first - an' over such a little thing,
too! We were in the orchard, an' I spilt some lemonade on her gown
- only about half a glass, you know, an' when she went to wipe it
off she hadn't a handkerchief, an' 'course I had none. So she told
me to fetch one, an' I was just going when Mr. Selwyn came, so I
said, 'Would he lend Auntie Lisbeth his handkerchief, 'cause she
wanted one to wipe her dress?' an' he said, 'Delighted!' Then auntie
frowned at me an' shook her head when he wasn't looking. But Mr.
Selwyn took out his handkerchief, an' got down on his knees, an'
began to wipe off the lemonade, telling her something 'bout his
'heart,' an' wishing he could 'kneel at her feet forever!' Auntie
got awfull' red, an' told him to stand up, but he wouldn't; an'
then she looked at me so awfull' cross that I thought I'd better
leave, so while she was saying, 'Rise, Mr.
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