e (like everything else on my
Hill), he'd shout, "Robin! Look--see! Look, see, Robin!" and sputter out
some spell or other that they had taught him, _all_ wrong end first,
till I hadn't the heart to tell him it was his own dear self and not
the words that worked the wonder. When he got more abreast of his words,
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