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Updated: June 4, 2025
"'Fraid I'm awfull' wicked," sighed the Imp, shaking his head, "'cause I told him a great big lie." "Did you, Imp?" "Yes. I said I didn't want his shilling, an' I do, you know, most awfully, to buy a spring pistol with." "Oh, well, we'll see what can be done about the spring pistol," I answered. "And so you don't like him, eh?" "Should think not," returned the Imp promptly.
"Well, I spected he'd be awfull' fierce an' want to hold me for ransom, but he didn't; he's quite quiet, for an outlaw, with grey hair and big eyes, an' eats an awful lot." "So you saved him your breakfast and dinner, did you?" "Oh, yes; an' my tea, too.
"No," I answered, shaking my head; "I don't think he will ever forget you, my Imp." "I 'spose he's awfull' fond of you, Uncle Dick?" "Not that I know of," "Then why did he kiss your hand?" "Oh, well er perhaps it is a way he has." "He didn't kiss mine," said the Imp.
"Not ta-day," replied Dorothy, shaking her head. "Last time Reginald painted me Auntie was awfull' angry it took her and nurse ages to get it all off the war-paint, I mean so I'm afraid I can't be an Indian again!" "That's very unfortunate!" I said. "Yes, isn't it; but nobody can be an Indian chief without any war-paint, can they?" "Certainly not," I answered.
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. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, while I turned to light my pipe, wasting three matches quite fruitlessly. "Uncle Dick," he burst out at last, struggling manfully against his sobs, "I I'm awfull' sorry "
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