The Imp Disposes
strangely sweet. His nose, pressed against the scarlet crêpe, sniffed inquiringly, his head raised a little. Instantly another cool hand slipped under his neck and he was pulled a little higher into the red lap. At first he resisted, but as the hand pressed his head closer, again he wriggled up involuntarily—it was sweeter yet! Up among a nest of fluffy softness it was sweetest of all, and there the Imp hid his head. Later he stole a glance at her chin, which was very close, and as she was absolutely silent, he even went so far as her nose. Still she made no sign. The Imp felt a flood of renewed self-respect rise within him. He drew a long sigh, lifted his eyes and faced her.
Then he realized that he had known her always—she lived in a picture frame in his Aunt Gertrude's room.
"Oh, do you live here?" he said wonderingly.
She nodded. "Will you help me up?" she asked in a matter-of-fact way, and he scrambled up and benevolently assisted her. He had really forgotten how she came to fall. I cannot describe her any better.
From time to time he heard strange things said of her. Grown people express themselves most
129
