"Love," said the youth. By now he was somewhat distant from the gate when he came abreast of it, and Martin Pippin did not catch the word. So he called louder:
"What?"
"Love!" shouted the youth. His voice cracked on it. He appeared slightly annoyed. Martin chewed a grass and watched him up and down the meadow.
At the right moment he bellowed:
"I was never yet put off my feed by love."
"Then," roared the youth, "you have never loved."
At this Martin jumped over the gate and ran along the furrow behind the boy.
"I have loved," he vowed, "as many times as I have tuned lute-strings."
"Then," said the youth, not turning his head, "you have never loved in vain."
"Always, thank God!" said Martin fervently.
The youth, whose name was Robin Rue, suddenly dropped all his seed in one heap, flung up his arms, and,
"Alas!" he cried. "Oh, Gillian! Gillian!" And began to sob more heavily than ever.
"Tell me your trouble," said the Minstrel kindly.
"Sir," said the youth, "I do not know your name, and your clothes are very tattered. But you are the first who has cared whether or no my heart should break since my lovely Gillian was locked with six keys into her father's Well-House, and six young milkmaids, sworn virgins and man-haters all, to keep the keys."
"The thirsty," said Martin, "make little of padlocks when within a rope's length of water."
"But, sir," continued the youth earnestly, "this Well-House is set in the midst of an Apple-Orchard enclosed in a hawthorn hedge full six foot high, and no entrance thereto but one small green wicket, bolted on the inner side."
"Indeed?" said Martin.
"And worse to come. The length of the hedge there is a great duckpond, nine yards broad, and three wild ducks swimming on it. Alas!" he cried, "I shall never see my lovely girl again !"
"Love is a mighty power," said Martin Pippin, "but there are doubtless things it cannot do."
"I ask so little," sighed Robin Rue. "Only to send her a
