"That will do, Bob!--that will do! You must learn not to repeat all
you hear, especially such objectionable words as may occasionally be
used by a--a--a gentleman of Sir Morton Pippitt's high standing."

And here he squared his shoulders and looked severely down an the
abashed Keeley. Anon he unbent himself somewhat and his eyes
twinkled with kindly humour: "Why didn't you bring the Maypole
here?" he enquired; "I suppose you thought it would not be as good a
'spec as Badsworth Hall and the London gents--eh?"

Bob Keeley opened his round eyes very wide.

"We be all comin' 'ere, sir!" he burst out: "All on us--ever so many
on us! But we reckoned to make a round of the village first and see
how we took on, and finish up wi' you, sir! Kitty Spruce she be a-
keepin' her best ribbin for comin' 'ere--we be all a-comin' 'fore
twelve!"

Walden smiled.

"Good! I shall expect you! And mind you don't all sing out of tune
when you do come. If you commit such an offence, I shall--let me
see!--I shall make mincemeat of you!--I shall indeed! Positive
mincemeat!--and bottle you up in jars for Christmas!" And he nodded
with the ferociously bland air of the giant in a fairy tale, whose
particular humour is the devouring of small children. "Now you had
better get back to Badsworth Hall with my message. Do you remember
it? My compliments to Sir Morton Pippitt, and I will write."

He turned away, and Bob Keeley made as rapid a departure as was