"Oh, but I can't help it," said Lisbeth; "it seems somehow so--so weird. For instance, this morning for breakfast he had first his usual porridge, then five pieces of bread and butter, and after that a large slice of ham--quite a big piece, Dick! And he ate it all so quickly. I turned away to ask Jane for the toast, and when I looked at his plate again it was empty, he had eaten every bit, and even asked for more. Of course I refused, so he tried to get Dorothy to give him hers in exchange for a broken pocket-knife. It was just the same at dinner. He ate the whole leg of a chicken, and after that a wing, and then some of the breast, and would have gone on until he had finished everything, I'm sure, if I hadn't stopped him, though I let him eat as long as I dared. Then at tea he had six slices of bread and butter, one after the other, not counting toast and cake. He has been like this for the last two days--and--oh yes, cook told me to-night that she found him actually eating dry bread just before he went up to bed. Dry bread--think of it! Oh, Dick, what can be the matter with him?"
"It certainly sounds mysterious," I answered, "especially as regards the dry bread; but that of itself suggests a theory, which, as the detective says in the story, 'I will not divulge just yet'; only don't worry, Lisbeth, the Imp is all right."
Being now come to old Jasper's cottage, which stands a little apart from the village in a bylane, Lisbeth paused and held out her hand for the basket.
"Don't wait for me to-night," she said. "I ordered Peter to fetch me in the dog-cart; you see, I may be late."
"Poor old Jasper!" she sighed, and her eyes were brimful of tenderness.
"He is very old and feeble," I said, drawing her close, under pretence of handing her the basket; "and yet, with your gentle hand to smooth my pillow, and your eyes to look into mine, I could almost wish----"
"Peter or no Peter, I think I'll wait--unless you really wish me to say 'Good-night' now?" But with a dexterous turn she eluded me, and waving her hand hurried up the rose-bordered path.
An hour, or even two, does not seem so very long when one's mind is so full of happy thoughts as mine was. Thus, I was filling my pipe and looking philosophically about for a likely spot in which to keep my vigil, when I was aware of a rustling close by, and, as I watched, a small figure stepped from the shadow of the hedge out into the moonlight.