“Do you know that you are trespassing?” asked he, when they were within speaking distance.
“No,” said Jones.
“Well, you are. I must ask you for your name and address, please.”
“What on earth for—what harm am I doing your old fields?” Jones had forgotten his position, everything, before the outrage on common sense.
“You are trespassing, that’s all. I must ask you for your name and address.”
Now to Jones came the recollection of something he had read somewhere. A statement, that in England there was no law of trespass in the country places, and that a person might go anywhere to pick mushrooms or wild flowers, and no landlord could interfere so long as no damage was done.
“Don’t you know the law?” asked Jones. He recited the law accordingly, to the Unknown.
The other listened politely.
“I ask you for your name and address,” said he. “Our lawyers will settle the other matter.”
Then anger came to Jones.