"H'lo," he said; "gimme my hat, that's just what I wanted; glad to see you."
Dumbfounded, Gilbert tossed the hat over to him.
"I wouldn't sell that hat," said Hervey, putting it on, "not for a couple of cups of cup custard. Sit down. Here's the chorus.
"Then hurrah for the cat with its nine little lives,
And the good turn windmill, too.
And hurrah for the fire that likes to go out,
When the hour is late like a regular scout;
For that's what I like to do,
I do.
You bet your life I do!"
CHAPTER XXVI
LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG
"Where did you find the hat?" Hervey inquired. "I bet you can't sit on this without holding on. Were you in the swamp? This is my friend, Mr. Hood—Robin Hood—sometimes I call him Lid instead of Hood. Call him cap if you want to, he doesn't care," he added, still swinging.
Mr. Robin Hood did not seem as much at ease as his young companion. He seemed rather troubled and glanced sideways at Gilbert.