Mistress Lucy opened the house-door herself. She was a charming girl with a rosy face and archly sparkling eyes. Her smile expressed goodness, and she was always smiling.

  William presented his brother to Mistress Lucy, and told her of Egbert’s good qualities. He was so eloquent and persuasive that the maiden, with her mother’s consent, allowed Will to hope that his wishes would be accomplished.

  Delighted at Mistress Lucy’s complaisance, William left Egbert to continue his wooing alone, and went off with his brothers.

  Hardly were they out of the house ere Stephen remarked to Will, “I wish I could speak with as much wit, animation, and grace as thou dost use in conversation.”

  “Nothing is easier than to speak gracefully to a woman, my dear lad. The words themselves are of little importance; it is quite enow to tell the truth, and that right heartily, without embellishing it with fine speeches.”

  “Is she whom thou hast chosen for me comely?”

  “Let me know thy taste; tell me of the kind of beauty thou dost admire.”

  “Oh,” replied Stephen, “I am not very hard to please; a wife like Maude would suit me well enow!”

  “A wife like Maude would suit thee well enow!” repeated Will, overcome with astonishment. “That I can readily believe, and I would have thee know that thou art not at all moderate in thy desires. By St. Paul! Stephen, a wife like Maude is a rare thing to find if not quite undiscoverable. Know well, poor ambitious lad, that there doth not exist on earth any one to be compared with my dear little wife!”

  “Dost think so, Will?”

  “I am certain of it,” replied Maude’s husband, in a peremptory tone.

  “Indeed, I did not know it. You must excuse my ignorance, Will; I have not travelled yet,” replied the young man, innocently. “But if thou couldst give me a wife whose beauty was of Maude’s kind...”

  “No one in the world doth possess one of Maude’s perfections,” replied Will, half irritated by his brother’s desire.

  “Very well, then, Will, choose a wife for me after thine own taste,” replied Stephen, in a disconsolate tone.

  “Then thou wilt be happy with her. First of all, I will tell thee her name; it is Minnie Meadows.”

  “I know her,” said Stephen, smiling. “She is a young girl with black eyes and curly hair. Minnie was in the habit of making fun of me; she said that I was foolish and sleepy. However, I like her, in spite of her teasing. One day, when we were by ourselves, she laughingly asked me if I had ever kissed a maid in my life.”

  “What reply didst make to Minnie’s question?”

  “I answered that certainly I had kissed my sisters. Minnie went off into fits of laughter, and asked me again, ‘Have you never kissed any other woman but your sisters?’ ‘By your leave, mistress,’ I replied, ‘I have kissed my mother.’”

  “Thy mother, thou silly fool! Well, what did she say to thee after thy fine answer?”

  “She laughed louder than ever. Then she asked me if I did not wish to kiss any other women besides my mother and sisters. I made answer, ‘Nay, mistress.’”

  “Thou great ninny! thou shouldest have kissed Minnie; that was the reply due to her questions.”

  “I never thought of it,” answered Stephen, quietly.

  “How did ye part after this pleasant conversation?”

  “Minnie called me a gaby; then she ran away, laughing still.”

  “I thoroughly approve of the epithet applied to thee by thy future wife. Doth she really suit thee?”

  “Yea, but what shall I say to her when we are alone?”

  “Thou must say all sorts of pretty things to her.”

  “I understand. But tell me, Will, how must I begin a pretty sentence? It is alway difficult to think of the first word.”

  “When thou art alone with Minnie, thou wilt tell her thou dost wish to receive lessons in the art of kissing young maidens, and as thou art speaking, thou wilt kiss her. The first obstacle surmounted, thou wilt not find it difficult to continue the progress.”

  “I should never dare to be so bold,” said Stephen, timidly.

  “‘I should never dare!’” repeated Will, in a mocking tone. “Upon my word, Stephen, if I were not sure that thou wert a brave and valiant forester, I should take thee for a girl dressed in man’s clothes.”

  Stephen blushed.

  “But,” he said hesitatingly, “if the maiden should be distressed at my behaviour?”

  “Well, thou wilt kiss her again, and say to her, ‘Sweet mistress, adorable Minnie, I shall not cease from kissing you until you do forgive me.’ Beside which, bear this in mind, and remember it on occasion, a girl never seriously objects to a kiss from the man she loves. But if her lover displeases her, the case is altered; then she defends herself, and she defends herself so well that you cannot begin again. Thou needst not fear a real refusal from Minnie. I have learnt from a good source that the little maid is friendly disposed toward thee.”

  Stephen plucked up courage, and promised William to get over his shyness.

  Minnie was alone in the house.

  “Good day, sweet Minnie,” said Will, taking the extended hand of the maiden, who blushed prettily as she greeted him. “I have brought my brother Stephen, who hath something of importance to tell you.”

  “He!” cried the girl. “And what very important thing can he have to say to me?”

  “I must tell you,” responded Stephen, quickly, becoming pale with fright, “that I wish to take some lessons...”

  “Hush! hush!” interrupted Will. “Not so fast, my boy. Dear Minnie, Stephen will explain to you presently what he wishes you to grant him of your kindness. Meanwhile, allow me to announce my sisters’ marriages.”

  “I have heard of the festivities which are on foot at the Hall.”

  “I hope, dear Minnie, that you will take part in our merrymakings.”

  “With pleasure, Will; the maidens of the village are all busied with their dresses, and I myself shall be overjoyed to dance at a wedding ball.”

  “You will bring your lover, will you not, Minnie?”

  “Nay, nay,” interrupted Stephen. “Thou dost forget, Will...”

  “I forget naught,” said Will. “Be so good as to hold thy tongue for a few minutes. You will bring your lover, eh, Minnie?” continued the young man, repeating his question.

  “I have no lover,” replied the maiden.

  “Is that true, Minnie?” asked Will.

  “It is quite true; I know not of any whom I could call lover.”

  “If you wish it, Minnie, I will be your lover,” cried Stephen, taking the girl’s hand in one of his own trembling ones.

  “Bravo, Stephen!” said Will.

  “Yea,” continued the young man, encouraged by his brother’s approbation, “yea, Minnie, I will be your lover; on the wedding day I will seek you, and we will be married at the same time as my sisters.”

  Astonished at this abrupt declaration, the maiden did not know how to answer.

  “Listen to me, dear Minnie,” said Will. “My brother hath long loved you, and his silence cometh not from his heart but from the extreme timidity of his nature. I assure you upon mine honour that Stephen speaks with the sincerity of love. You are not betrothed; Stephen is a fine lad, better still, he is a good and excellent lad, and will be a husband worthy of you. If we have your consent and that of your family, your marriage could be celebrated at the same time as my sisters’.”

  “Really, Will,” replied the girl, looking down in confusion, “I was so little prepared for your proposal; ‘tis so hasty and unexpected, I do not know how to reply.”

  “Reply thus: ‘I take Stephen for my husband,’” said that youth, put quite at his ease by the pretty girl’s sweet looks. “I have a very great affection for you, Minnie,” continued he, “and I should be the happiest of men an if you would give me your hand.”

  “‘Tis impossible for me to reply to your honourable proposal to-day,” said the maiden, bowing gracefully and playfully to her timid lover.

  “I will leave you alone, good friends,” William continued. “My presence embarrasses you, and I am certain that if Minnie loves Winifred and Barbara, she will be glad to call them sisters.”

  “I love Winifred and Barbara with all my heart,” replied the girl, softly.

  “Then,” said Stephen, “I may hope, mistress, that in consideration of your love for my sisters, you will treat me kindly?”

  “We shall see,” said the girl, coquettishly.

  “Good-bye, charming Minnie,” said William, with a smile. “I pray you be good and kind to the fine fellow who loves you so well, even though he doth not testify very eloquently to his love.”

  “You are too severe, Will,” replied the maiden, gravely. “I do not think Stephen could possibly have expressed himself better.”

  “Well, I see that you are really a most excellent young woman, sweet Minnie,” said Will. “Permit me to kiss your hand and to say once more, ‘Good-bye, sister mine.’”

  “Should I reply to William, ‘Good-bye, brother mine?’” asked Minnie, turning to Stephen.

  “Yea, dear lady, yea,” cried Stephen, joyfully. “Say to him, ‘Good-bye, brother’ so that he may go quickly.”

  “Thou dost make progress, my lad,” laughed Will. “My lessons are evidently bearing fruit.”

  With which William kissed Minnie, and went on his way with Gregory and Rupert.

  “Now ‘tis our turn, is’t not, Will?” said Gregory. “I am impatient to see my future wife.”

  “And so am I,” added Rupert.

  “Where doth she live?” asked Gregory.

  “Shall I see my future bride to-day?” continued Rupert.

  “Your very natural curiosity shall be satisfied,” replied Will. “Your future wives are cousins, and are called Mabel and Editha Harrowfield.”

  “I know them both,” said Gregory.

  “I know them too,” added Rupert.

  “They are pretty girls,” Will continued, “and I am not surprised that their charming faces have attracted your attention. I have hardly been eighteen months at Barnsdale, but there is not a maiden in the county, blonde or brunette, that I do not know. Like yourselves, mine attention hath already been attracted by Mabel and Editha.”

  “I never saw a fellow to equal thee, Will,” said Gregory; “thou dost know all the women, and art always roving. Of a truth we resemble thee but little.”

  “Unhappily for yourselves, my lads; for did you resemble me the least bit in the world, I should not be obliged to seek wives for you, or have to teach you how to make love to them.”

  “Oh,” replied Gregory, firmly, “it will not be difficult for us to make love to Mabel and Editha. Rupert thinks Mabel charming, and I am persuaded Editha is a good creature, so I shall just ask her an if she will be the wife of Gregory Gamwell.”

  “Such a question must not be put abruptly, my good lad, or thou wilt run the risk of a refusal.”

  “Tell me, then, how I should explain mine intentions to Editha. I do not know the tricks of cunning. I wish to have her for wife, and I should think it but natural to say, ‘Editha, I am ready to marry you.’”

  “Thou wilt embarrass the maiden overmuch, an thou dost shoot such a declaration at her point blank.”

  “What must I do, then?” asked Gregory, in despair.

  “Thou must gently lead the conversation in the way thou wouldst follow; speak first of the ball to be given at the Hall in three days’ time, of the happiness of Little John and Much; make a skilful allusion to thine approaching marriage, and, in this connection, ask Editha, as I have asked Minnie, if she thinks of being married, and if she will come to the feast at Barnsdale with a lover.”

  “What if Editha reply, ‘Yea, Gregory, yea, I will go to the ball with a lover’?”

  “Well, then thou wilt say, ‘Mistress, that lover is myself.’”

  “But,” Gregory ventured once again, “what if Editha doth refuse my hand?”

  “Then you will offer it to Mabel.”

  “And what of me?” said Rupert.

  “Editha will not refuse,” answered Will; “therefore never be uneasy: each of you shall have the girl of his heart to wife.”

  The young men crossed the village green, and stopped before a pretty house, upon the doorstep of which stood two girls.

  “Good morrow, fair Editha and Mabel,” said Will, greeting the cousins. “My brothers and I are come to ask you to a wedding dance.”

  “Welcome, fair Sirs,” said Mabel, in a voice as sweet as the song of a bird. “Do us the honour to enter and partake of some refreshment.”

  “A thousand thanks, charming Mabel,” replied Will. “So kind and gracious an offer should not meet with a refusal. We will drink your health and happiness in a flagon of ale.”

  Editha and Mabel, who were kind-hearted and sprightly maidens, received the brothers’ compliments with much laughter; then, after an hour’s merry conversation, Gregory summoned up his courage to ask Editha timidly whether she intended going to the Hall in the company of her lover.

  “I shall not be accompanied by one lover alone, but by half a dozen merry lads,” replied Editha, gaily.

  This most unexpected answer threw poor Gregory into great confusion. He sighed, and turning to his brother, whispered him aside

  “‘Tis all over with me; dost not think so? I cannot compete with half a dozen aspirants. Really, I have no luck, and must e’en remain a bachelor all my days.”

  “Since thou dost not wish to marry, that will suit thee,” said Will, teasingly.

  “I had not thought of it, that was all; but since the idea entered my mind, I have been tormented with the fear of not being able to find a wife.”

  “Thou shalt have Editha; let me manage it. Mistress Editha,” said William, “our visit had a double object. First we wished to invite you to our family festivities, then I would present to you, not a gallant for the dance, an adorer for four and twenty hours you have six of those, and the seventh would cut a sorry figure but an honest lad, steady, good, rich, and one who will be proud and happy to offer you his heart, his hand, and his name.”

  Mistress Editha looked pensive.

  “Are you speaking seriously, Will?” she asked.

  “Quite seriously. Gregory loves you; however, he is here himself, and if you close your eyes to the eloquence of his looks, pray be so kind as to give heed to the sincerity of his words. I will leave to him the pleasure of pleading a cause which is, I believe, half won already,” added the young man, interpreting in his brother’s favour the joyous smile which hovered on Editha’s lips. William allowed Gregory to approach the maiden, and looked at Rupert to see whether he required any help, intending to go to his assistance, if it were necessary. But Rupert did not require his aid; he was talkng to Mabel in a low voice and holding her hands as he knelt on one knee before her, apparently thanking her for some favour.

  “Good,” quoth Will to himself, “he can look after himself; I can leave him to his own resources.”

  He watched the lovers for a few minutes, and then, without attracting their attention, he left the room and ran back to the Hall.

  There he met Robin, Marian, and Maude, to whom he related what had happened, depicting to them the timorous embarrassment of the prospective bridegrooms, but he ended in recognising that the young men had brought themselves out of their difficult positions very well.

  Towards evening the brothers returned to the Hall radiant with joy. Their victory was complete, and they had one and all obtained the consent of their lady loves.

  The parents of the maidens thought it a piece of folly to marry with such precipitation, but the honour of entering the noble family of Gamwell removed all their scruples.

  Sir Guy, cleverly prepared by Robin to approve of his sons’ choice, welcomed the six pretty girls with great kindness. The eight marriages were celebrated on one day with much pomp, and each was delighted at the happiness which had fallen to his share.

  CHAPTER VIII

  A month after the events just related, Robin Hood, his wife, and the whole of his band of Merrie Men were installed once again beneath the trees of Sherwood Forest.

  About this time, a number of Normans, liberally paid for their military services by Henry II., came to take possession of the domains given them by the King’s generosity. Some of these Normans, who were obliged to cross Sherwood Forest to reach their new estates, were constrained to pay their way liberally by the merry band of outlaws. The newcomers protested loudly, and carried their complaints to the authorities in the town of Nottingham. But these complaints were taxed with exaggeration, and received no reply, and the reason of this apathy on the part of the Reeve and other important personages was as follows.

  Many of Robin Hood’s men were related to the inhabitants of Nottingham, and quite naturally these latter used their influence with the civil and military authorities to prevent any rigorous measures being taken against the Foresters. These worthy men were terribly afraid that if, in consequence of a successful attack, the Merrie Men were driven from their green dwelling-place, they might some morning have the melancholy satisfaction of seeing one of their own kinsmen hanging by the neck from the town gallows.

  However, as it was necessary to make a pretence of righteous indignation and justice, they doubled the reward promised to any one who should succeed in capturing Robin Hood. Whoever applied for it could at once obtain a warrant for arresting the famous Outlaw. Many men of great physical strength or of a determined spirit had made the attempt, but an unexpected thing happened they had all become, by their own wish, members of the band of merry Foresters.

  One morning Robin and Will Scarlett were strolling through the Forest when Much suddenly appeared before them streaming with perspiration and panting for breath.

  “What hath happened, Much?” asked Robin, anxiously. “Are you pursued? You are soaking with perspiration.”

  “Never fear, Robin,” replied the young man, wiping his crimson face. Thanks be to Heaven, I have had no dangerous encounter. I have only come from a bout with quarter-staves with Peaceful Arthur. Good Lord! the lad hath the strength of a giant in his arm.”