a brass farthing as to
who was right and who was wrong. Admirable Jem Bottles," I cried
enthusiastically, "tell me, if you will, of your glories; tell me with
your own tongue, so that when I hear the ballads waxing furious with
praise of you, I shall recall the time I marched with your historic
person."

"My beginning was without pretence," said the highwayman. "Little
Susan, daughter of Farmer Hants, was crossing the fields with a basket
of eggs. I, a masked figure, sprang out at her from a thicket. I
seized the basket. She screamed. There was a frightful tumult. But in
the end I bore away this basket of eight eggs, creeping stealthily
through the wood. The next day Farmer Hants met me. He had a long
whip. There was a frightful tumult. But he little knew that he was
laying with his whip the foundation of a career so illustrious. For a
time I stole his sheep, but soon grew weary of this business. Once,
after they had chased me almost to Bristol, I was so weary that I
resolved to forego the thing entirely. Then I became a highwayman,
whom you see before you. One of the ballads begins thus:

"What ho! the merry Jem!
Not a pint he gives for them.
All his--"

"Stop," said I, "we'll have it at Dame Bottles's fireside. Hearing
songs in the night air always makes me hoarse the next morning."

"As you will," he answered without heat. "We're a'most there."

Soon a lighted window of the highwayman's humble home shone out in the
darkness, and a moment later Jem Bottles was knocking at the door. It
was immediately opened, and he stalked in with his blood-marks still
upon his face. There was a great outcry in a feminine voice, and a
large woman rushed forward and flung her arms about the highwayman.

"Oh, Jemmie, my son, my son!" she screamed, "whatever have they done
to ye this time?"

"Silence, mother dear," said Bottles. "'Tis nought but a wind-broken
bough fallen on my head. Have you no manners? Do you not see the
gentleman waiting to enter and warm himself?"

The woman turned upon me, alarmed, but fiery and defiant. After a
moment's scrutiny she demanded:

"Oh, ho, and the gentleman had nought to do of course with my Jem's
broken head?"

"'Tis a priest but newly arrived from his native island of Asia," said
Bottles piously; "and it ill beseems you, mother dear, to be haggling
when you might be getting the holy man and I some supper."

"True, Jemmie, my own," responded Dame Bottles. "But there are so m