of Border Ballads, and he read therein of many
unmoral romances and pretty fancies, which, since
he was a small boy, held little meaning for him, or
charm, beyond a delight in the swing of the rhythm,
for Johnny had a feeling for music. It was when he
read of Robin Hood, the bold Robin Hood, with his
dubious ethics but his certain and unquenchable
interest, that Johnny Trumbull became intent. He
had the volume in his own room, being somewhat
doubtful as to whether it might be of the sort
included in the good-boy role. He sat beside a rain-
washed window, which commanded a view of the
wide field between the Trumbull mansion and Jim
Simmons's house, and he read about Robin Hood
and his Greenwood adventures, his forcible setting
the wrong right; and for the first time his imagina-
tion awoke, and his ambition. Johnny Trumbull,
hitherto hero of nothing except little material fist-
fights, wished now to become a hero of true romance.

In fact, Johnny considered seriously the possi-
bility of reincarnating, in his own person, Robin
Hood. He eyed the wide green field dreamily
through his rain-blurred window. It was a pretty
field, waving with feathery grasses and starred with
daisies and buttercups, and it was very fortunate
that it happened to be so wide. Jim Simmons's
house was not a desirable feature of the landscape,
and looked much better several acres away. It was
a neglected, squalid structure, and considered a dis-