ords, and could cast spells for
sure, as we say, he took more and more notice of things and people in
the world. People, of course, always drew him, for he was mortal all
through.

'Seeing that he was free to move among folk in housen, under or over
Cold Iron, I used to take him along with me, night-walking, where he
could watch folk, and I could keep him from touching Cold Iron. That
wasn't so difficult as it sounds, because there are plenty of things
besides Cold Iron in housen to catch a boy's fancy. He was a handful,
though! I shan't forget when I took him to Little Lindens--his first
night under a roof. The smell of the rushlights and the bacon on the
beams--they were stuffing a feather-bed too, and it was a drizzling warm
night--got into his head. Before I could stop him--we were hiding in
the bakehouse--he'd whipped up a storm of wildfire, with flashlights
and voices, which sent the folk shrieking into the garden, and a girl
overset a hive there, and--of course he didn't know till then such
things could touch him--he got badly stung, and came home with his face
looking like kidney potatoes! 'You can imagine how angry Sir Huon and
Lady Esclairmonde were with poor Robin! They said the Boy was never to
be trusted with me night-walking any more--and he took about as much
notice of their order as he did of the bee-stings. Night after night,
as soon as it was dark, I'd pick up his whistle in the wet fern, and
off we'd flit together among folk in housen till break of day--he asking
questions, and I answering according to my knowledge. Then we fell into
mischief again!'Puck shook till the gate rattled.

'We came across a man up at Brightling who was beating his wife with
a bat in the garden. I was just going to toss the man over his own
woodlump when the Boy jumped the hedge and ran at him. Of course the
woman took her husband's part, and while the man beat him, the woman
scratted his face. It wasn't till I danced among the cabbages like
Brightling Beacon all ablaze that they gave up and ran indoors. The
Boy's fine green-and-gold clothes were torn all to pieces, and he had
been welted in twenty places with the man's bat, and scratted by the
woman's nails to pieces. He looked like a Robertsbridge hopper on a
Monday morning.

'"Robin," said he, while I was trying to clean him down with a bunch of
hay, "I don't quite understand folk in housen. I went to help that old
woman, and she hit me, Robin!"

'"What else did you