Robin Hood's Bam 



foot, had preserved a boyish love of plunder a.nd 

 were shuffling off in the dead of night for a raid 

 on the institutional larder. I felt little sympathy 

 with the slumbering warden. Indeed, I wished 

 the fellows a square meal and a safe return, not 

 realizing that I was being generous with my own 

 provisions. 



Nor did I, a good month later when their slow 

 progress had brought them to my garden, recog- 

 nize at once their handiwork. I was used to pil- 

 ferers, not cut-throats; to sneak-thieves whom I 

 could detect from chews and nibbles, from rav- 

 aged bud and drooping stalk. Here were profes- 

 sional cracksmen who made a clean sweep of 

 my treasure and left no thumb-prints as 

 betraying marks. Zinnias, cosmos, larkspurs, 

 that had broken the ground with a first pair of 

 leaves, were as though they had never been. The 

 poppies that had already formed their sturdy 

 small rosettes, had completely disappeared and 

 gone were the silver leaves of corn-flowers. 

 Nor had these robbers scorned mere kitchen fare. 

 Where but the day before there had been a long 

 bright streak of lettuce, there was now open 



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