But why did you never let me see before
what a Palnatoke (if I must not say Tell) I had to deal with?"
"I had no time for the practices," said Harold, puzzled as to who
Palnatoke was.
"Worse and worse! You don't mean that you shoot like this without
practice?"
"Lucy taught me a little."
"Well, if heaven-born archers come down on one, there's nothing for
it but submitting. Robin Hood must prevail," said Hippolyta, as the
belt was handed over to Harold, with a sigh that made him say in
excuse, "I would not have done it, but that Eustace wanted to have it
in his hands, for family reasons."
"Then let him look to it; I mean to get it again next year. And, I
say, Mr. Alison, I have a right to some compensation. All you
archers are coming to lunch at Therford on Thursday, if the sun
shines, to be photographed, you know. Now you must come to
breakfast, and bring your lion's skin and your bow--to be done alone.
It is all the consolation I ask. Make him, Lucy. Bring him."
There was no refusing; and that was the way the photograph came to be
taken. We were reminded by a note after we went home, including in
the invitation Eustace, who, after being a little sulky, had made up
his mind that a long range was easier to shoot at than a short one,
and so that he should have won the prize if he had had the chance;
and the notion of being photographed was, of course, delightful to
him.
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