Fane Court stands bowered in trees, with a wide stretch of the greenest of green lawns sloping down to the river stairs.
They are quaint old stairs, with a marble rail and carved balusters, worn and crumbling, yet whose decay is half hid by the kindly green of lichens and mosses; stairs indeed for an idle fellow to dream over on a hot summer's afternoon - and they were, moreover, a favourite haunt of Lisbeth. It was here that I had moored my boat, therefore and now lay back, pipe in mouth and with a cushion beneath my head, in that blissful state between Sleeping and waking.
Now, as I lay, from the blue wreaths of my pipe I wove me fair fancies:
And lo! the stairs were no longer deserted; there were fine gentlemen, patched and powdered, in silks and satins, with shoe-buckles that flashed in the sun; there were dainty ladies in quilted petticoats and flowered gowns, with most wonderful coiffures; and there was Lisbeth, fairer and daintier than them all, and there, too, was I. And behold how demurely she courtesied and smiled behind her ivory fan! With what a grace I took a pinch of snuff! With what an air I ogled and bowed with hand on heart! Then, somehow, it seemed we were alone, she on the top stair, I on the lower. And standing thus I raised my arms to her with an appealing gesture. Her eyes looked down into mine, the patch quivered at the corner of her scarlet mouth, and there beside it was the dimple. Beneath her petticoat I saw her foot in a little pink satin shoe come slowly toward me and stop again. I watched scarce breathing, for it seemed my fate hung in the balance. Would she come down to Love and me, or -"Ship ahoy!" cried a voice, and in that moment my dream vanished. I sighed, and looking round, beheld a head peering eat me over the balustrade; a head bound up in a bandanna handkerchief of large pattern and vivid colouring.
"Why, Imp!" I exclaimed. But my surprise abated when he emerged into full view.
About his waist was a broadbuckled belt, which supported a wooden cutlass, two or three murderous wooden daggers and a brace of toy pistols; while upon his legs were a pair of top-boots many sizes too large for him, so that walking required no little care. Yet on the whole his appearance was decidedly effective. There could be no mistake - he was a bloodthirsty pirate!
The imp is an artist to his grimy finger tips. "Avast, shipmate!" I cried."How's the wind?""Oh, he exclaimed, failing over his boots with eagerness, "do take me in your boat, an' let's be pirates, will you, Uncle ****?""Well, that depends.Where is your Auntie Lisbeth?" "Mr. Selwyn is going to row her and Dorothy up the river." "The deuce he is!""Yes, an' they won't take me." "Why not, my Imp?""'Cause they're 'fraid I should upset the boat. So I thought I'd come ask you to be a pirate, you know. I'll lend you my best dagger an' one of my pistols. Will you, Uncle ****?""Come aboard, shipmate, if you are for Hispaniola, the Tortugas, and the Spanish Main," said I, whereupon he scrambled in, losing a boot overboard in his baste, which necessitated much intricate angling with the boat-hook ere it was recovered.
"They're Peter's, you know," he explained as he emptied out the water. "I took them out of the harness-room; a pirate must have boots, youknow, but I'm afraid Peter'll swear."
"Not a doubt of it when he sees them," I said as we pushed off.
"I wish," he began, looking round thoughtfully after a minute or so, "I wish we could get a plank or a yardarm from somewhere.""What for, my Imp?"
"Why, don't you remember, pirates always had a plank for people to 'walk,' you know, an' used to 'swing them up to the yard-arm.'
"You seem to know all about it," I said as I pulled slowly down stream. "Oh, yes, I read it all in Scarlet Sam, the Scourge of the South Seas. Scarlet Sam was fine.He used to stride up and down the quarterdeck an' flourish his cutlass, an' his eyes would roll, an' he'd foam at the mouth, an- "
"Knock everybody into 'the lee scuppers,'" I put in.
"Yes," cried the Imp in a tone of unfeigned surprise. "How did you know that, Uncle ****?""Once upon a time," I said, as I swung lazily at the sculls, "I was a boy myself, and read a lot about a gentleman named 'Beetle-browed Ben.' I tell you. Imp, he was a terror for foaming and stamping, if you like, and used to kill three or four people every morning, just to get an appetite for breakfast." The Imp regarded me with round eyes.
"How fine!" he breathed, hugging himself in an ecstasy.
"It was," I nodded: "and then he was a very wonderful man in other ways. You see, he was always getting himse1f shot through the head, or run through the body, but it never hurt Beetle-browed Ben - not a bit of it.""An' did he 'swing people at the yard-arm - with a bitter smile'?" "Lots of 'em!" I answered.
"An' make them 'walk the plank - with a horrid laugh'?""By the hundred!" "An' 'maroon them on a desolate island - with a low chuckle'?""Many a time," I answered; "and generally with chuckle.""Oh. I should like to read about him!" said the Imp with a deep sigh; "will you lend me your book about him, Uncle ****?"I shook my head. "Unfortunately, that, together with many other valued possessions, has been ravaged from me by the ruthless maw of Time," I replied sadly.
The Imp sat plunged in deep thought, trailing his fingers pensively in the water.
"And so your Auntie Lisbeth is going for a row with Mr. Selwyn, is she?" I said.
"Yes, an' I told her she could come an' be a pirate with me if she liked - but she wouldn't.""Strange!" I murmured.
"Uncle ****, do you think Auntie Lisbeth is in love with Mr. Selwyn?" "What?" I exclaimed, and stopped rowing.
"I mean, do you think Mr. Selwyn is in love with Auntie Lisbeth?" "My Imp.I'm afraid he is.Why?""Cause cook says he is, an' so does Jane, an' they know all about love, you know. I've heard them read it out of a book lots an' lots of times. But I think love is awfull' silly, don't you, Uncle ****?""Occasionally I greatly fear so," I sighed.
