"Tut, tut," quoth merry Robin, "speak not so sourly, brother. Hast thou
fed upon vinegar and nettles this morning that thy speech is so
stinging?"
"An thou likest not my words," said the other fiercely, "thou hadst best
be jogging, for I tell thee plainly, my deeds match them."
"Nay, but I do like thy words, thou sweet, pretty thing," quoth Robin,
squatting down upon the grass in front of the other. "Moreover, I tell
thee thy speech is witty and gamesome as any I ever heard in all my
life."
The other said not a word, but he glared upon Robin with a wicked and
baleful look, such as a fierce dog bestows upon a man ere it springs at
his throat. Robin returned the gaze with one of wide-eyed innocence, not
a shadow of a smile twinkling in his eyes or twitching at the corners of
his mouth. So they sat staring at one another for a long time, until the
stranger broke the silence suddenly. "What is thy name, fellow?" said
he.
"Now," quoth Robin, "I am right glad to hear thee speak, for I began to
fear the sight of me had stricken thee dumb. As for my name, it may be
this or it may be that; but methinks it is more meet for thee to tell me
thine, seeing that thou art the greater stranger in these parts.
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