I. Treasure Trove
II. The Sheriff of Nottingham
III. The Desperadoes
IV. At the Three Jolly Anglers
V. The Episode of the Indian's Aunt
VI. The Outlaw
VII. The Blasted Oak
VIII. The Land of Heart's Delight
*THE CHRONICLES OF THE IMP*
*CHAPTER I*
*TREASURE TROVE*
I sat fishing. I had not caught anything, of course--I rarely do, nor
am I fond of fishing in the very smallest degree, but I fished
assiduously all the same, because circumstances demanded it.
It had all come about through Lady Warburton, Lisbeth's maternal aunt.
Who Lisbeth is you will learn if you trouble to read these veracious
narratives--suffice it for the present that she has been an orphan from
her youth up, with no living relative save her married sister Julia and
her Aunt (with a capital A)--the Lady Warburton aforesaid.
Lady Warburton is small and somewhat bony, with a sharp chin and a
sharper nose, and invariably uses a lorgnette; also, she is possessed of
much worldly goods.
Precisely a week ago Lady Warburton had requested me to call upon
her--had regarded me with a curious exactitude through her lorgnette,
and gently though firmly (Lady Warburton is always firm) had suggested
that Elizabeth, though a dear child, was young and inclined to be a
little self-willed. That she (Lady Warburton) was of opinion that
Elizabeth had mistaken the friendship which had existed between us so
long for something stronger. That although she (Lady Warburton) quite
appreciated the fact that one who wrote books was not necessarily
immoral--still I was, of course, a terrible Bohemian, and the air of
Bohemia was not calculated to conduce to that degree of matrimonial
harmony which she (Lady Warburton) as Elizabeth's Aunt, standing to her
in place of a mother, could wish for. That, therefore, under these
circumstances, my attentions were--etc. etc.
Here I would say in justice to myself that despite the torrent of her
eloquence I had at first made some attempt at resistance; but who could
hope to contend successfully against a woman possessed of such an
indomitable nose and chin, and one, moreover, who could level a jewelled
lorgnette with such deadly precision? Still, had Lisbeth been beside me,
things might have been different even then; but she had gone away into
the country--so Lady Warburton had informed me. Thus, alone and at her
mercy, she had succeeded in wringing from me a half promise that I would
cease my attentions for the space of six months, "just to give dear
Elizabeth time to learn her own heart in regard to the matter."
This was last Monday. On the Wednesday following, as I wandered
aimlessly along Piccadilly, at odds with fortune and myself, but
especially with myself, my eye encountered the Duchess of Chelsea.
The Duchess is familiarly known as the "Conversational Brook" from the
fact that when once she begins she goes on for ever. Hence, being in my
then frame of mind, it was with a feeling of rebellion that I obeyed the
summons of her parasol and crossed over to the brougham.
"So she's gone away?" was her greeting as I raised my hat--"Lisbeth,"
she nodded, "I happened to hear something about her, you know."
It is strange, perhaps, but the Duchess generally does "happen to hear"
something about everything.
"And you actually allowed yourself to be bullied into making that
promise--Dick! Dick! I'm ashamed of you."
"How was I to help myself?" I began. "You see----"
"Poor boy!" said the Duchess, patting me affectionately with the handle
of her parasol, "it wasn't to be expected, of course. You see, I know
her--many, many years ago I was at school with Agatha Warburton."
"But she probably didn't use lorgnettes then, and----"
"Her nose was just as sharp though--'peaky,' I used to call it," nodded
the Duchess. "And she has actually sent Lisbeth away--dear child--and to
such a horrid, quiet little place, too, where she'll have nobody to talk
to but that young Selwyn----"
"I beg pardon, Duchess, but----"
"Horace Selwyn, of Selwyn Park--cousin to Lord Selwyn, of Brankesmere.
Agatha has been scheming for it a long time, under the rose, you know.
Of course, it would be a good match in a way--wealthy, and all that--but
I must say he bores me horribly--so very serious and precise!"
"Really!" I exclaimed, "do you mean to say----"
"I expect she will have them married before they know it--Agatha's
dreadfully determined. Her character lies in her nose and chin."
"But Lisbeth is not a child--she has a will of her own, and----"
"True," nodded the Duchess, "but is it a match for Agatha's chin? And
then, too, it is rather more than possible that you are become the
object of her bitterest scorn by now."
"But, my dear Duchess----"
"Oh, Agatha is a born diplomat. Of course she has written before this,
and, without actually saying it, has managed to convey the fact that you
are a monster of perfidy; and Lisbeth, poor child, who is probably
crying her eyes out, or imagining she hates you, is ready to accept the
first proposal she receives out of pure pique."
"What on earth can I do?" I exclaimed.
"You might go fishing," the Duchess suggested thoughtfully.
"Fishing!" I repeated, "--er, to be sure, but----"
"Riverdale is a very pretty place, they tell me," pursued the Duchess in
the same thoughtful tone; "there is a house there, a fine old place,
called Fane Court. It stands facing the river, and adjoins Selwyn Park,
I believe."
"Duchess," I exclaimed, as I jotted down the address upon my cuff, "I
owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never----"
"Tut, tut!" said her Grace.
"I think I'll start to-day, and----"
"You really couldn't do better," nodded the Duchess.
And so it befell that upon this August afternoon I sat in the shade of
the alders fishing, with the smoke of my pipe floating up into the
sunshine.
By adroit questioning I had elicited from mine host of the Three Jolly
Anglers the precise whereabouts of Fane Court, the abode of Lisbeth's
sister, and, guided by his directions, had chosen this sequestered spot,
where by simply turning my head I could catch a glimpse of its tall
chimneys above the swaying green of tree-tops.
It is a fair thing upon a hot summer's afternoon, within some shady
bower, to lie upon one's back and stare up through a network of branches
into the limitless blue beyond, while the air is full of the stir of
leaves, and the murmur of water among the reeds. Or, propped on lazy
elbow, to watch perspiring wretches, short of breath and purple of
visage, urge boats up stream or down, each deluding himself into the
belief that he is enjoying it. Life under such conditions may seem very
fair, as I say; yet I was not happy. The words of the Duchess seemed
everywhere about me.
"You are become the object of her bitterest scorn by now," sobbed the
wind.
"You are become," etc. etc., moaned the river. It was therefore with no
little trepidation that I looked forward to my meeting with Lisbeth.
It was at this moment that the bushes parted and a boy appeared. He was
a somewhat diminutive boy, clad in a velvet suit with a lace collar,
both of which were plentifully bespattered with mud. He carried his
shoes and stockings beneath one arm, and in the other hand swung a hazel
branch. He stood with his little brown legs well apart, regarding me
with a critical eye; but when at length he spoke his attitude was
decidedly friendly.
"Hallo, man!"
"Hallo," I returned; "and who may you be?"
"Well," he answered gravely, "my real name is Reginald Augustus, but
they call me 'The Imp.'"
"I can well believe it," I said, eyeing his muddy person.
"If you please, what is an imp?"
"An imp," I explained, "is a sort of an--angel."
"But," he demurred, after a moment's thought, "I haven't got any wings
an' things--or a trumpet."
"Your kind never do have wings, or trumpets."
"Oh, I see," he said; and sitting down began to wipe the mud from his
legs with his stockings.
"Rather muddy, aren't you?" I hinted. The boy cast a furtive glance at
his draggled person.
"'Fraid I'm a teeny bit wet, too," he said hesitatingly. "You see, I've
been playing at 'Romans,' an' I had to wade, you know, 'cause was the
standard-bearer who jumped into the sea waving his sword an' crying,
'Follow me!' You remember him, don't you?--he's in the history book."
"To be sure," I nodded; "a truly heroic character. But if you were the
Romans, where were the Ancient Britons?"
"Oh, they were the reeds, you know; you ought to have seen me slay them.
It was fine; they went down like--like----"
"Corn before the sickle," I suggested.
"Yes, just!" he cried; "the battle raged for hours."
"You must be rather tired."
"'Course not," he answered, with an indignant look. "I'm not a
girl--an' I'm nearly nine, too."
"I gather from your tone that you are not partial to the sex--you don't
like girls, eh, Imp?"
"Should think not," he returned; "silly things, girls are. There's
Dorothy, you know; we were playing at executions the other day--she was
Mary Queen of Scots an' I was the headsman. I made a lovely axe with
wood and silver paper, you know; an' when I cut her head off she cried
awfully, an' I only gave her the weeniest little tap--an' they sent me
to bed at six o'clock for it. I believe she cried on purpose--awfully
caddish, wasn't it?"
"My dear Imp," said I, "the older you grow the more the depravity of the
sex will become apparent to you."
"Do you know, I like you," he said, regarding me thoughtfully. "I think
you are fine."
"Now that's very nice of you, Imp; in common with my kind I have a
weakness for flattery--please go on."
"I mean, I think you are jolly."
"As to that," I said, shaking my head and sighing, "appearances are
often very deceptive; at the heart of many a fair blossom there is a
canker-worm."
"I'm awfull' fond of worms, too," said the Imp.
"Indeed?"
"Yes. I got a pocketful yesterday, only Auntie found out an' made me
let them all go again."
"Ah--yes," I said sympathetically; "that was the woman of it."
"I've only got one left now," continued the Imp; and thrusting a hand
into the pocket of his knickerbockers he drew forth six inches or so of
slimy worm and held it out to me upon his small, grimy palm.
"He's nice and fat!" I said.
"Yes," nodded the Imp; "I caught him under the gooseberry bushes;" and
dropping it back into his pocket he proceeded to don his shoes and
stockings.
"'Fraid I'm a bit muddy," he said suddenly.
"Oh, you might be worse," I answered reassuringly.
"Do you think they'll notice it?" he inquired, contorting himself
horribly in order to view the small of his back.
"Well," I hesitated, "it all depends, you know."
"I don't mind Dorothy, or Betty the cook, or the governess--it's Auntie
Lisbeth I'm thinking about."
"Auntie--who?" I exclaimed, regardless of grammar.
"Auntie Lisbeth," repeated the Imp.
"What is she like?"
"Oh, she's grown up big, only she's nice. She came to take care of
Dorothy an' me while mother goes away to get nice an' strong--oh, Auntie
Lisbeth's jolly, you know."
"With black hair and blue eyes?" The Imp nodded.
"And a dimple at the corner of her mouth?" I went on dreamily.
"An' do you know my Auntie Lisbeth?"
"I think it extremely probable--in fact, I'm sure of it."
"Then you might lend me your handkerchief, please; I tied mine to a bush
for a flag, you know, an' it blew away."
"You'd better come here and I'll give you a rub down, my Imp." He
obeyed, with many profuse expressions of gratitude.
"Have you got any Aunties?" he inquired, as I laboured upon his miry
person.
"No," I answered, shaking my head; "unfortunately mine are all Aunts,
and that is vastly different."
"Oh," said the Imp, regarding me with a puzzled expression; "are they
nice--I mean do they ever read to you out of the history book, an help
you to sail boats, an' paddle?"
"Paddle?" I repeated.
"Yes. My Aunt Lisbeth does. The other day we got up awfull' early an'
went for a walk, an' we came to the river, so we took off our shoes an'
stockings an' we paddled; it was ever so jolly, you know. An' when
Auntie wasn't looking I found a frog an' put it in her stocking."
"Highly strategic, my Imp! Well?"
"It was awfull' funny," he said, smiling dreamily. "When she went to
put 'em on she gave a little high-up scream, like Dorothy does when I
pinch her a bit--an' then she throwed them both away, 'cause she was
afraid there was frogs in both of them. Then she put on her shoes
without any stockings at all, so I hid them."
"Where?" I cried eagerly.
"Reggie!" called a voice some distance away--a voice I recognised with a
thrill. "Reggie!"
"Imp, would you like half a crown?"
"'Course I would; but you might clean my back, please!" and he began
rubbing himself feverishly with his cap, after the fashion of a
scrubbing-brush.
"Look here," I said, pulling out the coin, "tell me where you hid
them--quick--and I'll give you this." The Imp held out his hand, but,
even as he did so, the bushes parted, and Lisbeth stood before us. She
gave a little low cry of surprise at sight of me, and then frowned.
"You?" she exclaimed.
"Yes," I answered, raising my cap. And there I stopped, trying
frantically to remember the speech I had so carefully prepared--the
greeting which was to have explained my conduct and disarmed her
resentment at the very outset. But, rack my brain as I would, I could
think of nothing but the reproach in her eyes--her disdainful mouth and
chin--and that one haunting phrase--
"'I suppose I am become the object of your bitterest scorn by now?'" I
found myself saying.
"My Aunt informed me of--of everything, and naturally----"
"Let me explain," I began.
"Really, it is not at all necessary."
"But, Lisbeth, I must--I insist----"
"Reginald," she said, turning toward the Imp, who was still busy with
his cap, "it's nearly tea-time, and--why, whatever have you been doing
to yourself?"
"For the last half-hour," I interposed, "we have been exchanging our
opinions on the sex."
"An' talking 'bout worms," added the Imp. "This man is fond of worms,
too, Auntie Lisbeth--I like him."
"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!"
Dorothy gave me her hand demurely.
"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!"
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 distinct 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 anything
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 herself 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."
Lisbeth grew quite angry--one of her few bad traits.
"You will give them up at once--immediately."
"On the contrary," I said very gently, "seeing the Crown can have no use
for one, I shall keep them both to dream over when the nights are long
and lonely."
Lisbeth actually stamped her foot at me, and I tucked "them" into my
pocket.
"How did you know they--they were here?" she inquired after a pause.
"I was directed to a tree with 'stickie-out' branches," I answered.
"Oh, that Imp!" she exclaimed, and stamped her foot again.
"Do you know, I've grown quite attached to that nephew of mine already?"
I said.
"He's not a nephew of yours," cried Lisbeth quite hotly.
"Not legally, perhaps; that is where you might be of such assistance to
us, Lisbeth. A boy with only an aunt here and there, is unbalanced, so
to speak; he requires the stronger influence of an uncle. Not," I
continued hastily, "that I would depreciate aunts--by the way, he has
but one, I believe?" Lisbeth nodded coldly.
"Of course," I nodded, "and very lucky in that one--extremely fortunate.
Now, years ago, when I was a boy, I had three, and all of them blanks,
so to speak. I mean none of them ever read to me out of the history
book, or helped me to sail boats, or paddled and lost their---- No,
mine used to lecture me about my hair and nails, I remember, and glare
at me over the big tea-urn until I choked into my teacup. A truly
desolate childhood mine. I had no big-fisted uncle to thump me
persuasively when I needed it; had fortune granted me one I might have
been a very different man, Lisbeth. You behold in me a horrible example
of what one may become whose boyhood has been denuded of uncles."
"If you will be so very obliging as to return my--my property."
"My dear Lisbeth," I sighed, "be reasonable; suppose we talk of
something else"--and I attempted, though quite vainly, to direct her
attention to the glories of the sunset.
A fallen tree lay near by, upon which Lisbeth seated herself with a
certain determined set of her little round chin that I knew well.
"And how long do you intend keeping me here?" she asked in a resigned
tone.
"Always, if I had my way."
"Really?" she said, and whole volumes could never describe all the scorn
she managed to put into that single word. "You see," she continued,
"after what Aunt Agatha wrote and told me----"
"Lisbeth," I broke in, "if you'll only----"
"I naturally supposed----"
"If you'll only let me explain----"
"That you would abide by the promise you made her and wait----"
"Until you knew your own heart," I put in. "The question is how long
will it take you? Probably, if you would allow me to teach you----"
"Your presence here now stamps you as--as horribly deceitful!"
"Undoubtedly," I nodded; "but, you see, when I was foolish enough to
give that promise, your very excellent Aunt made no reference to her
intentions regarding a certain Mr. Selwyn."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lisbeth. And feeling that I had made a point, I
continued with redoubled ardour:
"She gave me to understand that she merely wished you to have time to
know your own heart in the matter. Now, as I said before, how long will
it take you to find out, Lisbeth?"
She sat, chin in hand, staring straight before her, and her black brows
were still drawn together in a frown. But I watched her mouth--just
where the scarlet underlip curved up to meet its fellow.
Lisbeth's mouth is a trifle wide, perhaps, and rather full-lipped, and
somewhere at one corner--I can never be quite certain of its exact
location, because its appearance is, as a rule, so very meteoric--but
somewhere there is a dimple. Now, if ever there was an arrant traitor
in this world it is that dimple; for let her expression be ever so
guileless, let her wistful eyes be raised with a look of tears in their
blue depths, despite herself that dimple will spring into life and undo
it all in a moment. So it was now; even as I watched, it quivered round
her lips, and feeling herself betrayed, the frown vanished altogether
and she smiled.
"And now, Dick, suppose you give me my--my----"
"Conditionally," I said, sitting down beside her.
The sun had set, and from somewhere among the purple shadows of the wood
the rich, deep notes of a blackbird came to us, with pauses now and
then, filled in with the rustle of leaves and the distant lowing of
cows.
"Not far from the village of Down in Kent," I began dreamily, "there
stands an old house with quaint, high-gabled roofs and twisted Tudor
chimneys. Many years ago it was the home of fair ladies and gallant
gentlemen, but its glory is long past. And yet, Lisbeth, when I think
of it at such an hour as this, and with you beside me, I begin to wonder
if we could not manage between us to bring back the old order of
things."
Lisbeth was silent.
"It has a wonderful old-fashioned rose garden, and you are fond of
roses, Lisbeth."
"Yes," she murmured; "I'm very fond of roses."
"They would be in full bloom now," I suggested.
There was another pause, during which the blackbird performed three or
four difficult arias with astonishing ease and precision.
"Aunt Agatha is fond of roses, too!" said Lisbeth at last very gravely.
"Poor dear Aunt, I wonder what she would say if she could see us now?"
"Such things are better left to the imagination," I answered.
"I ought to write and tell her," murmured Lisbeth.
"But you won't do that, of course?"
"No, I won't do that, if----"
"Well?"
"If you will give me--them."
"One," I demurred.
"Both!"
"On one condition, then--just once, Lisbeth?"
Her lips were very near, her lashes drooped, and for one delicious
moment she hesitated. Then I felt a little tug at my coat pocket, and
springing to her feet she was away with "them" clutched in her hand.
"Trickery!" I cried, and started in pursuit.
There is a path through the woods leading to the Shrubbery at Fane
Court. Down this she fled, and her laughter came to me on the wind. I
was close upon her when she reached the gate, and darting through,
turned, flushed but triumphant.
"I've won!" she mocked, nodding her head at me.
"Who can cope with the duplicity of a woman?" I retorted. "But,
Lisbeth, you will give me one--just one?"
"It would spoil the pair."
"Oh, very well," I sighed, "good-night, Lisbeth," and lifting my cap I
turned away.
There came a ripple of laughter behind me, something struck me softly
upon the cheek, and, stooping, I picked up that which lay half unrolled
at my feet, but when I looked round Lisbeth was gone.
So presently I thrust "them" into my pocket and walked back slowly along
the river path toward the hospitable shelter of the Three Jolly Anglers.
*CHAPTER II*
*THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM*
To sit beside a river on a golden afternoon listening to its whispered
melody, while the air about one is fragrant with summer, and heavy with
the drone of unseen wings!--What ordinary mortal could wish for more?
And yet, though conscious of this fair world about me, I was still
uncontent, for my world was incomplete--nay, lacked its most essential
charm, and I sat with my ears on the stretch, waiting for Lisbeth's
chance footstep on the path and the soft whisper of her skirts.
The French are indeed a great people, for among many other things they
alone have caught that magic sound a woman's garments make as she walks,
and given it to the world in the one word "_frou-frou_."
O wondrous word! O word sublime! How full art thou of delicate
suggestion! Truly there can be no sweeter sound to ears masculine upon
a golden summer afternoon--or any other time, for that matter--than the
soft "_frou-frou_" that tells him _She_ is coming.
At this point my thoughts were interrupted by something which hurtled
through the air and splashed into the water at my feet. Glancing at
this object, I recognised the loud-toned cricket cap affected by the
Imp, and reaching for it, I fished it out on the end of my rod. It was
a hideous thing of red, white, blue, and green--a really horrible
affair, and therefore much prized by its owner, as I knew.
Behind me the bank rose some four or five feet, crowned with willows and
underbrush, from the other side of which there now came a prodigious
rustling and panting. Rising to my feet, therefore, I parted the leaves
with extreme care, and beheld the Imp himself.
He was armed to the teeth--that is to say, a wooden sword swung at his
thigh, a tin bugle depended from his belt, and he carried a bow and
arrow. Opposite him, was another boy, particularly ragged at knee and
elbow, who stood with hands thrust into his pockets and grinned.
"Base caitiff, hold!" cried the Imp, fitting an arrow to the string;
"stand an' deliver. Give me my cap, thou varlet, thou!" The boy's grin
expanded.
"Give me my cap, base slave, or I'll shoot you--by my troth!" As he
spoke the Imp aimed his arrow, whereupon the boy ducked promptly.
"I ain't got yer cap," he grinned from the shelter of his arm. "It's
been an' gone an' throwed itself into the river!" The Imp let fly his
arrow, which was answered by a yell from the Base Varlet.
"Yah!" he cried derisively as the Imp drew his sword with a melodramatic
flourish. "Yah! put down that stick an' I'll fight yer."
The Imp indignantly repudiated his trusty weapon being called "a
stick"--"an' I don't think," he went on, "that Robin Hood ever fought
without his sword. Let's see what the book says," and he drew a very
crumpled paper-covered volume from, his pocket, which he consulted with
knitted brows, while the Base Varlet watched him, open-mouthed.
"Oh yes," nodded the Imp; "it's all right. Listen to this!" and he read
as follows in a stern, deep voice:
"'Then Robin tossed aside his trusty blade, an' laying bare his knotted
arm, approached the dastardly ruffian with many a merry quip and jest,
prepared for the fierce death-grip.'"
Hereupon the Imp laid aside his book and weapons and proceeded to roll
up his sleeve, having done which to his satisfaction, he faced round
upon the Base Varlet.
"Have at ye, dastardly ruffian!" he cried, and therewith ensued a
battle, fierce and fell.
If his antagonist had it in height, the Imp made up for it in weight--he
is a particularly solid Imp--and thus the struggle lasted for some five
minutes without any appreciable advantage to either, when, in eluding
one of the enemy's desperate rushes, the Imp stumbled, lost his balance,
and next moment I had caught him in my arms. For a space "the enemy"
remained panting on the bank above, and then with another yell turned
and darted off among the bushes.
"Hallo, Imp!" I said.
"Hallo, Uncle Dick!" he returned.
"Hurt?" I inquired.
"Wounded a bit in the nose, you know," he answered, mopping that organ
with his handkerchief; "but did you see me punch 'yon varlet' in the
eye?"
"Did you, Imp?"
"I think so, Uncle Dick; only I do wish I'd made him surrender. The
book says that Robin Hood always made his enemies 'surrender an' beg
their life on trembling knee!' Oh, it must be fine to see your enemies
on their knee!"
"Especially if they tremble," I added.
"Do you s'pose that boy--I mean 'yon base varlet' would have
surrendered?"
"Not a doubt of it--if he hadn't happened to push you over the bank
first."
"Oh!" murmured the Imp rather dubiously.
"By the way," I said, "where is your Auntie Lisbeth?"
"Well, I chased her up the big apple-tree with my bow an' arrow."
"Of course," I nodded. "Very right and proper!"
"You see," he explained, "I wanted her to be a wild elephant an' she
wouldn't."
"Extremely disobliging of her!"
"Yes, wasn't it? So when she was right up I took away the ladder an'
hid it."
"Highly strategic, my Imp."
"So then I turned into Robin Hood, I hung my cap on a bush to shoot at,
you know, an' 'the Base Varlet' came up an' ran off with it."
"And there it is," I said, pointing to where it lay. The Imp received
it with profuse thanks, and, having wrung out the water, clapped it upon
his curls and sat down beside me.
"I found another man who wants to be my uncle," he began.
"Oh, indeed?"
"Yes; but I don't want any more, you know."
"Of course not. One like me suffices for your everyday needs--eh, my
Imp?"
The Imp nodded. "It was yesterday," he continued. "He came to see
Auntie Lisbeth, an' I found them in the summer-house in the orchard.
An' I heard him say, 'Miss Elizabeth, you're prettier than ever!'"
"Did he though, confound him!"
"Yes, an' then Auntie Lisbeth looked silly, an' then he saw me behind a
tree an' he looked silly, too. Then he said, 'Come here, little man!'
An' I went, you know, though I do hate to be called 'little man.' Then
he said he'd give me a shilling if I'd call him Uncle Frank."
"And what did you answer?"
"'Fraid I'm awfull' wicked," sighed the Imp, shaking his head, "'cause I
told him a story."
"Did you, Imp?"
"Yes. I said I didn't want his shilling, an' I do, you know, most
awfully, to buy a spring-pistol with."
"Oh, well, we'll see what can be done about the spring-pistol," I
answered. "And so you don't like him, eh?"
"Should think not," returned the Imp promptly. "He's always so--so
awfull' clean, an' wears a little moustache with teeny sharp points on
it."
"Anyone who does that deserves all he gets," I said, shaking my head.
"And what is his name?"
"The Honourable Frank Selwyn, an' he lives at Selwyn Park--the next
house to ours."
"Oho!" I exclaimed, and whistled.
"Uncle Dick," said the Imp, breaking in upon a somewhat unpleasant train
of thought conjured up by this intelligence, "will you come an' be
'Little-John under the merry greenwood tree'? Do."
"Why, what do you know about 'the merry greenwood,' Imp?"
"Oh, lots!" he answered, hastily pulling out the tattered book. "This
is all about Robin Hood an' Little-John. Ben, the gardener's boy, lent
it to me. Robin Hood was a fine chap, an' so was Little-John, an' they
used to set ambushes an' capture the Sheriff of Nottingham an' all sorts
of caddish barons, an' tie them to trees."
"My Imp," I said, shaking my head, "the times are sadly changed. One
cannot tie barons--caddish or otherwise--to trees in these degenerate
days."
"No, I s'pose not," sighed the Imp dolefully; "but I do wish you would
be Little-John, Uncle Dick."
"'Oh, certainly, Imp, if it will make you any happier; though of a
truth, bold Robin," I continued after the manner of the story-books,
"Little-John hath a mind to bide awhile and commune with himself here;
yet give but one blast upon thy bugle horn and thou shalt find my arm
and quarter-staff ready and willing enough, I'll warrant you!"
"That sounds awfull' fine, Uncle Dick, only--you haven't got a
quarter-staff, you know."
"Yea, 'tis here!" I answered, and detached the lower joint of my
fishing-rod. The Imp rose, and folding his arms, surveyed me as Robin
Hood himself might have done--that is to say, with an "eye of fire."
"So be it, my faithful Little-John," quoth he; "meet me at the Blasted
Oak at midnight. An' if I shout for help--I mean blow my bugle--you'll
come an' rescue me, won't you, Uncle Dick?"
"Ay; trust me for that," I answered, all unsuspecting.
"'Tis well!" nodded the Imp; and with a wave of his hand he turned and
scrambling up the bank disappeared.
Of the existence of Mr. Selwyn I was already aware, having been notified
in this particular by the Duchess, as I have told in the foregoing
narrative.
Now, a rival in air--in the abstract, so to speak--is one thing, but a
rival who was on a sufficiently intimate footing to deal in personal
compliments, and above all, one who was already approved of and
encouraged by the powers that be, in the person of Lady
Warburton--Lisbeth's formidable aunt--was another consideration
altogether.
"Miss Elizabeth, you're prettier than ever!"
Somehow the expression rankled.
What right had he to tell her such things?--and in a summer-house,
too;--the insufferable audacity of the fellow!
A pipe being indispensable to the occasion, I took out my matchbox, only
to find that it contained but a solitary vesta.
The afternoon had been hot and still hitherto, with never so much as a
breath of wind stirring; but no sooner did I prepare to strike that
match than from somewhere there came a sudden flaw of wind that ruffled
the glassy waters of the river and set every leaf whispering. Waiting
until what I took to be a favourable opportunity, with infinite
precaution I struck a light. It flickered in a sickly fashion for a
moment between my sheltering palms, and immediately expired.
This is but one example of that "Spirit of the Perverse" pervading all
things mundane which we poor mortals are called upon to bear as best we
may. Therefore I tossed aside the charred match, and, having searched
fruitlessly through my pockets for another, waited philosophically for
some "good Samaritan" to come along. The bank I have mentioned sloped
away gently on my left, thus affording an uninterrupted view of the
path.
Now as my eyes followed this winding path I beheld an individual some
distance away who crawled upon his hands and knees, evidently searching
for something. As I watched, he succeeded in raking a Panama hat from
beneath a bush, and, having dusted it carefully with his handkerchief,
replaced it upon his head and continued his advance.
With some faint hope that there might be a loose match hiding away in
some corner of my pockets, I went through them again more carefully, but
alas! with no better success; whereupon I gave it up and turned to
glance at the approaching figure.
My astonishment may be readily imagined when I beheld him in precisely
the same attitude as before--that is to say, upon his hands and knees.
I was yet puzzling over this phenomenon when he again raked out the
Panama on the end of the hunting-crop he carried, dusted it as before,
looking about him the while with a bewildered air, and, setting it
firmly upon his head, came down the path.
He was a tall young fellow, scrupulously neat and well groomed from the
polish of his brown riding-boots to his small, sleek moustache, which
was parted with elaborate care and twisted into two fine points. There
was about his whole person an indefinable air of self-complacent
satisfaction, but he carried his personality in his moustache, so to
speak, which, though small, as I say, and precise to a hair, yet
obtruded itself upon one in a vaguely unpleasant way. Noticing all
this, I thought I might make a very good guess as to his identity if
need were.
All at once, as I watched him--like a bird rising from her nest the
devoted Panama rose in the air, turned over once or twice and fluttered
(I use the word figuratively) into a bramble bush. Bad language was
writ large in every line of his body as he stood looking about him, the
hunting-crop quivering in his grasp.
It was at this precise juncture that his eye encountered me, and,
pausing only to recover his unfortunate headgear, he strode toward where
I sat.
"Do you know anything about this?" he inquired in a somewhat aggressive
manner, holding up a length of black thread.
"A piece of ordinary pack-thread," I answered, affecting to examine it
with a critical eye.
"Do you know anything about it?" he said again, evidently in a very bad
temper.
"Sir," I answered, "I do not."
"Because if I thought you did----"
"Sir," I broke in, "you'll excuse me, but that seems a very remarkable
hat of yours."
"I repeat, if I thought you did----"
"Of course," I went on, "each to his taste, but personally I prefer one
with less 'gymnastic' and more 'stay-at-home' qualities."
The hunting-crop was raised threateningly.
"Mr. Selwyn?" I inquired in a conversational tone.
The hunting-crop hesitated and was lowered.
"Well, sir?"
"Ah, I thought so," I said, bowing; "permit me to trespass upon your
generosity to the extent of a match--or, say, a couple."
Mr. Selwyn remained staring down at me for a moment, and I saw the
points of his moustache positively curling with indignation. Then,
without deigning a reply, he turned on his heel and strode away. He had
not gone more than thirty or forty paces, however, when I heard him stop
and mutter savagely--I did not need to look to learn the reason--I admit
I chuckled. But my merriment was short-lived, for a moment later came
the feeble squeak of a horn followed by a shout and the Imp's voice
upraised in dire distress.
"Little-John! Little-John! to the rescue!" it called.
I hesitated, for I will freely confess that when I had made that promise
to the Imp it was with small expectation that I should be called upon to
fulfil it. Still, a promise is a promise; so I sighed, and picking up
the joint of my fishing-rod, clambered up the bank. Glancing in the
direction of the cries, I beheld Robin Hood struggling in the foe's
indignant grasp.
Now, there were but two methods of procedure open to me as I could
see--the serious or the frankly grotesque. Naturally I chose the
latter, and, quarter-staff on shoulder, I swaggered down the path with
an air that Little-John himself might well have envied.
"Beshrew me!" I cried, confronting the amazed Mr. Selwyn. "Who dares
lay hands on bold Robin Hood? Away, base rogue, hie thee hence, or I am
like to fetch thee a dour ding on that pate o' thine!"
Mr. Selwyn loosed the Imp and stared at me in speechless amazement, as
well he might.
"Look ye, master," I continued, entering into the spirit of the thing,
"no man lays hand on Robin Hood whiles Little-John can twirl a staff or
draw a bow-string--no!"
The Imp, retired to a safe distance, stood hearkening in a transport
till, bethinking him of his part, he fished out the tattered book and
began surreptitiously turning over the pages; as for Mr. Selwyn, he only
fumbled at his moustache and stared.
"Aye, but I know thee," I went on again; "by thy sly and crafty look, by
thy scalloped cape and chain of office, I know thee for that same
Sheriff of Nottingham that hath sworn to our undoing. Go to! didst
think to take Robin--in the greenwood? Out upon thee! Thy years should
have taught thee better wisdom. Out upon thee!"
"Now will I feed"--began the Imp, with the book carefully held behind
him--"now will I feed fat mine vengeance--to thy knees for a scurvy
rascal!"
"Aye," I nodded, "'twere well he should do penance on his marrow-bones
from hither to Nottingham Town; but as thou art strong--be merciful,
Robin."
Mr. Selwyn still curled the point of his moustache.
"Are you mad," he inquired, "or only drunk?"
"As to that, good master Sheriff, it doth concern thee nothing--but mark
you! 'tis an ill thing to venture within the greenwood whiles Robin Hood
and Little-John be abroad."
Mr. Selwyn shrugged his shoulders and turned to the Imp.
"I am on my way to see your Aunt Elizabeth, and shall make it my
particular care to inform her of your conduct, and see that you are
properly punished. As for you, sir," he continued, addressing me, "I
shall inform the police that there is a madman at large."
At this double-barrelled threat the Imp was plainly much dismayed, and
coming up beside me, slipped his hand into mine, and I promptly pocketed
it.
"Sweet master Sheriff," I said, sweeping off my cap in true outlaw
fashion, "the way is long and something lonely; methinks--we will
therefore e'en accompany you, and may perchance lighten the tedium with
quip and quirk and a merry stave or so."
Seeing the angry rejoinder upon Mr. Selwyn's lips, I burst forth
incontinent into the following ditty, the words extemporised to the tune
of "Bonnie Dundee":
"There lived a sheriff in Nottinghamshire,
With a hey derry down and a down;
He was fond of good beef, but was fonder of beer,
With a hey derry down and a down."
By the time we reached the Shrubbery gate the Imp was in an ecstasy, and
Mr. Selwyn once more reduced to speechless indignation and astonishment.
Here our ways diverged, Mr. Selwyn turning toward the house, while the
Imp and I made our way to the orchard at the rear.
"Uncle Dick," he said, halting suddenly, "do you think he will
tell--really?"
"My dear Imp," I answered, "a man who wears 'points on his moustache' is
capable of anything."
"Then I shall be sent to bed for it, I know I shall!"
"To run into a thread tied across the path must have been very
annoying," I said, shaking my head thoughtfully, "especially with a
bran-new hat!"
"They were only 'ambushes,' you know, Uncle Dick."
"To be sure," I nodded. "Now, observe, my Imp, here is a shilling; go
and buy that spring-pistol you were speaking of, and take your time
about it; I'll see what can be done in the meanwhile."
The Imp was reduced to incoherent thanks.
"That's all right," I said, "but you had better hurry off."
He obeyed with alacrity, disappearing in the direction of the village,
while I went on towards the orchard to find Lisbeth. And presently,
sure enough, I did find her--that is to say, part of her, for the
foliage of that particular tree happened to be very thick, and I could
see nothing of her but a foot.
A small and shapely foot it was that swung audaciously to and fro; a
foot in a ridiculously out-of-place little patent-leather shoe.
I approached softly, with the soul of me in my eyes, so to speak, yet,
despite my caution, she seemed to become aware of my presence in some
way--the foot faltered in its swing and vanished as the leaves were
parted, and Lisbeth looked down at me.
"Oh, it's you?" she said, and I fancied she seemed quite pleased.
"You'll find a step-ladder somewhere about--it can't be very far."
"Thanks," I answered, "but I don't want one."
"No; but I do; I want to get down. That little wretched Imp hid the
ladder, and I've been here all the afternoon," she wailed.
"But then you refused to be an elephant you know," I reminded her.
"He shall go to bed for it--directly after tea!" she said.
"Lisbeth," I returned, "I firmly believe your nature to be altogether
too sweet and forgiving---"
"I want to come down!"
"Certainly," I said; "put your left foot in my right hand, take firm
hold of the branch above, and let yourself sink gently into my arms."
"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, "here's Mr. Selwyn coming," and following
her glance, I saw a distinct Panama approaching.
"Lisbeth," said I, "are you anxious to see him?"
"In this ridiculous situation--of course not!"
"Very well then, hide--just sit there and leave matters to me and----"
"Hush," she whispered, and at that moment Selwyn emerged into full view.
Catching sight of me he stopped in evident surprise.
"I was told I should find Miss Elizabeth here," he said stiffly.
"It would almost appear that you had been misinformed," I answered. For
a moment he seemed undecided what to do. Would he go away? I wondered.
Evidently not for after glancing about him he sat himself down upon a
rustic seat near by with a certain resolute air that I did not like. I
must get rid of him at all hazards.
"Sir," said I, "can I trespass on your generosity to the extent of a
match--or say a couple?" After a brief hesitation he drew out a very
neat silver match-box, which he handed to me.
"A fine day, sir?" I said, puffing at my pipe.
Mr. Selwyn made no reply.
"I hear that the crops are looking particularly healthy this year," I
went on.
Mr. Selwyn appeared to be utterly lost in the contemplation of an
adjacent tree.
"To my mind an old apple-tree is singularly picturesque," I began again.
"Nice nobbly branches, don't you know?"
Mr. Selwyn began to fidget.
"And then," I pursued, "they tell me that apples are so good for the
blood."
Mr. Selwyn shifted his gaze to the toe of his riding-boot, and for a
space there was silence, so much so, indeed, that an inquisitive rabbit
crept up and sat down to watch us with much interest, until--evidently
remembering some pressing engagement--he disappeared with a flash of his
white tail.
"Talking of rabbits," said I, "they are quite a pest in Australia, I
believe, and are exterminated by the thousand; I have often wondered if
a syndicate could not be formed to acquire the skins. This idea, so far
as I know, is original, but you are quite welcome to it."
Mr. Selwyn rose abruptly to his feet.
"I once in my boyhood possessed a rabbit--of the lop-eared variety," I
continued, "which over-ate itself and died. I remember I attempted to
skin it with dire results----"
"Sir," said Mr. Selwyn, "I beg to inform you that I am not interested in
rabbits, lop-eared or otherwise; nor do I propose to become so;
furthermore----"
But at this moment of my triumph, even as he turned to depart, something
small and white fluttered down from the branches above, and the next
moment Selwyn had stooped and picked up a lace handkerchief. Then,
while he stared at it and I at him, there came a ripple of laughter and
Lisbeth peered down at us through the leaves.
"My handkerchief--thank you," she said, as Selwyn stood somewhat taken
aback by her sudden appearance.
"The trees hereabouts certainly bear very remarkable, not to say
delightful fruit," he said.
"And as you will remember, I was always particularly fond of
apple-trees," I interpolated.
"Mr. Selwyn," smiled Lisbeth, "let me introduce you to Mr. Brent."
"Sir," I said, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance; have heard Her
Grace of Chelsea speak of you--her friends are mine, I trust?"
Mr. Selwyn's bow was rather more than distant.
"I have already had the pleasure of meeting this--this very original
gentleman before, and under rather peculiar circumstances, Miss
Elizabeth," he said, and forthwith plunged into an account of the whole
affair of the "ambushes," while Lisbeth, perched upon her lofty throne,
surveyed us with an ever-growing astonishment.
"Whatever does it all mean?" she inquired as Mr. Selwyn made an end.
"You must know then," I explained, leaning upon my quarter-staff, "the
Imp took it into his head to become Robin Hood; I was Little-John, and
Mr. Selwyn here was so very obliging as to enact the role of Sheriff of
Nottingham----"
"I beg your pardon," exclaimed Mr. Selwyn indignantly, turning upon me
with a fiery eye.
"Everyone recollects the immortal exploits of Robin and his 'merrie
men,'" I continued, "and you will, of course, remember that they had a
habit of capturing the Sheriff and tying him up to trees and things.
Naturally the Imp did not proceed to that extreme. He contented himself
with merely capturing the Sheriff's hat. I think that you will agree
that those 'ambushes' worked like a charm, Mr. Selwyn?"
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, disdaining any reply, "I am aware of the
affection you lavish upon your nephew; I hope that you will take
measures to restrain him from such pranks--such very disgraceful
pranks--in the future. I myself should suggest a change of
companionship" (here he glanced at me) "as the most salutary method.
Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth." So saying, Mr. Selwyn raised his hat,
bowed stiffly to me, and, turning upon an indignant heel, strode
haughtily away.
"Well!" exclaimed Lisbeth with a look of very real concern.
"Very well, indeed!" I nodded; "we are alone at last."
"Oh, Dick! but to have offended him like this!"
"A highly estimable young gentleman," I said, "though deplorably lacking
in that saving sense of humour which----"
"Aunt Agatha seems to think a great deal of him."
"So I understand," I nodded.
"Only this morning I received a letter from her, in which, among other
things, she pointed out what a very excellent match he would be."
"And what do you think?"
"Oh, I agree with her, of course; his family dates back ages and ages
before the Conqueror, and he has two or three estates besides Selwyn
Park, and one in Scotland."
"Do you know, Lisbeth, that reminds me of another house--not at all big
or splendid, but of great age; a house which stands not far from the
village of Down, in Kent; a house which is going to rack and ruin for
want of a mistress. Sometimes, just as evening comes on, I think it
must dream of the light feet and gentle hands it has known so many years
ago, and feels its loneliness more than ever."
"Poor old house!" said Lisbeth softly.
"Yes, a house is very human, Lisbeth, especially an old one, and feels
the need of that loving care which only a woman can bestow, just as we
do ourselves."
"Dear old house!" said Lisbeth, more softly than before.
"How much longer must it wait--when will you come and care for it,
Lisbeth?"
She started, and I thought her cheeks seemed a trifle pinker than usual
as her eyes met mine.
"Dick," she said wistfully, "I do wish you would get the ladder; it's
horribly uncomfortable to sit in a tree for hours and----"
"First of all, Lisbeth, you will forgive the Imp--full and freely, won't
you?"
"He shall go to bed without any tea whatever."
"That will be rank cruelty, Lisbeth; remember he is a growing boy."
"And I have been perched up here--between heaven and earth--all the
afternoon."
"Then why not come down?" I inquired.
"If you will only get the ladder----"
"If you will just put your right foot in my----"
"I won't!" said Lisbeth.
"As you please," I nodded, and sitting down, mechanically took out my
pipe and began to fill it, while she opened her book, frowning. And
after she had read very studiously for perhaps two minutes, she drew out
and consulted her watch. I did the same.
"A quarter to five!" I said.
Lisbeth glanced down at me with the air of one who is deliberating upon
two courses of action, and when at length she spoke, every trace of
irritation had vanished completely.
"Dick, I'm awfully hungry."
"So am I," I nodded.
"It _would_ be nice to have tea here under the trees, wouldn't it?"
"It would be positively idyllic!" I said.
"Then if you will please find that ladder----"
"If you will promise to forgive the Imp----"
"Certainly not!" she retorted.
"So be it!" I sighed, and sat down again. As I did so she launched her
book at me.
"Wretch!" she exclaimed.
"Which means that you are ready to descend?" I inquired, rising and
depositing the maltreated volume side by side with my pipe on a rustic
table near by; "very good. Place your right foot in----"
"Oh, all right," she said quite pettishly, and next moment I had her in
my arms.
"Dick! put me down--at once!"
"One moment, Lisbeth; that boy is a growing boy----"
"And shall go to bed without any tea!" she broke in.
"Very well, then," I said, and reading the purpose in my eyes, she
attempted, quite vainly, to turn her head aside.
"You will find it quite useless to struggle, Lisbeth," I warned. "Your
only course is to remember that he is a growing boy."
"And you are a brute!" she cried.
"Undoubtedly," I answered, bending my head nearer her petulant lips.
"But think of the Imp in bed, lying there, sleepless, tealess, and
growing all the while as fast as he can."
Lisbeth surrendered, of course, but my triumph was greatly tempered with
disappointment.
"You will then forgive him for the 'ambushes' and cherish him with much
tea?" I stipulated, winking away a tress of hair that tickled most
provokingly.
"Yes," said Lisbeth.
"And no bed until the usual hour?"
"No," she answered, quite subdued; "and now please do put me down." So
I sighed and perforce obeyed.
She stood for a moment patting her rebellious hair into order with deft,
white fingers, looking up at me meanwhile with a laugh in her eyes that
seemed almost a challenge. I took a hasty step toward her, but as I did
so the Imp hove into view.
"Hallo, Auntie Lisbeth!" he exclaimed, eyeing her wonderingly; then his
glance wandered round as if in quest of something.
"How did she do it, Uncle Dick?" he inquired.
"Do what, my Imp?"
"Why, get out of the tree?"