Part 5

"Thanks," I said; "but let me beg of you to drop your very distant mode of address, Call me Uncle Dick."

"But you're not my Uncle Dick, you know," he demurred.

"Not yet, perhaps; but there's no knowing what may happen some day if your Auntie thinks us worthy--so take time by the forelock, my Imp, and call me Uncle Dick."

Whatever Lisbeth might or might not have said was checked by the patter of footsteps, and a little girl tripped into view, with a small, fluffy kitten cuddled in her arms.

"Oh, Auntie Lisbeth," she began, but stopped to stare at me over the back of the fluffy kitten.

"Hallo, Dorothy!" cried the imp; "this is Uncle Dick. You can come an' shake hands with him if you like."

"I didn't know I had an Uncle Dick," said Dorothy, hesitating.

"Oh, yes; it's all right," answered the Imp reassuringly. "I found him, you know, an' he likes worms, too!"

"How do you do, Uncle Dick?" she said in a quaint, old-fashioned way. "Reginald is always finding things, you know, an' he likes worms, too!" Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.

From somewhere near by there came the silvery chime of a bell.

"Why, there's the tea-bell!" exclaimed Lisbeth; "and, Reginald, you have to change those muddy clothes. Say good-bye to Mr. Brent, children, and come along."

"Imp," I whispered as the others turned away, "where did you hide those stockings?" And I slipped the half crown into his ready palm.

"Along the river there's a tree--very big an' awfull' fat, you know, with a lot of stickie-out branches, an' a hole in its stomach--they're in there."

"Reginald!" called Lisbeth.

"Up stream or down?"

"That way," he answered, pointing vaguely down stream; and with a nod that brought the yellow curls over his eyes he scampered off.

"Along the river," I repeated, "in a big, fat tree with a lot of stickie-out branches!" It sounded a trifle indefinite, I thought--still I could but try. So having packed up my rod I set out upon the search.

It was strange, perhaps, but nearly every tree I saw seemed to be either "big" or "fat"--and all of them had "stickie-out" branches.

Thus the sun was already low in the west, and I was lighting my fifth pipe when I at length observed the tree in question.

A great pollard oak it was, standing upon the very edge of the stream, easily distinguishable by its unusual size and the fact that at some time or another it had been riven by lightning. After all, the Imp's description had been in the main correct; it was "fat," immensely fat: and I hurried joyfully forward.

I was still some way off when I saw the distant flutter of a white skirt, and--yes, sure enough, there was Lisbeth, walking quickly too, and she was a great deal nearer the tree than I.

Prompted by a sudden conviction, I dropped my rod and began to run. Immediately Lisbeth began running, too. I threw away my creel and sprinted for all I was worth. I had earned some small fame at this sort of thing in my university days, yet I arrived at the tree with only a very few yards to spare. Throwing myself upon my knees, I commenced a feverish search, and presently--more by good fortune than any thing else--my random fingers encountered a soft, silken bundle. When Lisbeth came up, flushed and panting, I held them in my hands.

"Give them to me!" she cried.

"I'm sorry--"

"Please," she begged.

"I'm very sorry--"

"Mr. Brent." said Lisbeth, drawing her self up, "I'll trouble you for my--them."

"Pardon me, Lisbeth," I answered, "but if I remember anything of the law of 'treasure-trove' one of these should go to the Crown, and one belongs to me."