"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?"