"Uncle Dick knows everything, of course," returned the Imp
sententiously.

"Do you think the beautiful princess loved the prince, Dorothy?"
I asked, glancing at Lisbeth's averted face.

"Well," answered Dorothy, pursing her mouth thoughtfully, "I don't
know, Uncle Dick; you see, Auntie hasn't got to that yet, but
everybody loves somebody sometime, you know. Betty - she's our
cook, you know - Betty says all nice tales end up in marrying and
living happy ever after."

"Not a doubt of it," said I, resting on my oars. "What do you think,
Lisbeth?" She leaned back and regarded me demurely beneath her long
lashes for a moment.

"I think," she answered, "that it would be much nicer if you would
go on rowing."

"One more question," I said. "Tell me, has this Prince Trueheart
got a moustache?"

"Like Mr. Selwyn?" cried the Imp; "should think not. The prince
was a fine chap, an' used to kill dragons, you know."

"Ah! I'm glad of that," I murmured, passing my fingers across my
shaven upper lip; "very glad indeed." Lisbeth laughed, but I saw
her colour deepen and she looked away.

"Oh, it must be lovely to kill a dragon!" sighed the Imp.