# What Will He Do With It? (Belford)/Book 1/Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.
Vance loosened the boat from its moorings, stepped in, and took up the oars. Lionel followed, and sat by the stern. The Artist rowed on slowly, whistling melodiously in time to the dash of the oars. They soon came to the bank of garden-ground surrounded with turf, on which fairies might have danced—one of those villas never seen out of England. From the windows of the villa the lights gleamed steadily; over the banks, dipping into the water, hung large willows breathlessly; the boat gently brushed aside their pendant boughs, and Vance rested in a grassy cove.
And "Faith," said the Artist, gayly—"Faith," said he, lighting his third cigar, "it is time we should bestow a few words ​more on the Remorseless Baron and the Bandit's Child! What a cock-and-a-bull story the Cobbler told us! He must have thought us precious green."
Lionel (roused). "Nay, I see nothing so wonderful in the story, though much that is sad. You must allow that Waife may have been a good actor—you became quite excited merely at his attitude and bow. Natural, therefore, that he should have been invited to try his chance on the London stage—not improbable that he may have met with an accident by the train, and so lost his chance forever—natural, then, that he should press into service his poor little grandchild—natural, also, that, hardly treated, and his pride hurt, he should wish to escape."
Vance. "And more natural than all, that he should want to extract from our pockets three pounds—the Bandit! No, Lionel, I tell you what is not probable, that he should have disposed of that clever child to a vagabond like Rugge—she plays admirably. The manager who was to have engaged him would have engaged her if he had seen her. I am puzzled."
Lionel. "True, she is an extraordinary child. I cannot say how she has interested me." He took out his purse and began counting its contents. "I have nearly three pounds left," he cried, joyously. "£2 18s. if I give up the thought of a longer excursion with you, and go quietly home."
Vance. "And not pay your share of the bill yonder?"
Lionel. "Ah, I forgot that! But come, I am not too proud to borrow from you, and it is not for a selfish purpose."
Vance. "Borrow from me, Cato! That comes of falling in with bandits and their children. No, but let us look at the thing like men of sense. One story is good till another is told. I will call by myself on Rugge to-morrow, and hear what he says; and then, if we judge favorably of the Cobbler's version, we will go at night and talk with the Cobbler's lodgers; and I dare say," added Vance, kindly, but with a sigh—I dare say the three pounds will be coaxed out of me! After all, her head is worth it. I want an idea for Titania."
Lionel (joyously). "My dear Vance, you are the best fellow in the world."
Vance. "Small compliment to human-kind. Take the oars—it is your turn now."
Lionel obeyed; the boat once more danced along the tide—thoro' reeds, thoro' waves, skirting the grassy islet—out into pale moonlight. They talked but by fits and starts. What of?—a thousand things. Bright young hearts, eloquent young ​tongues! No sins in the past; hopes gleaming through the future. Oh summer nights, on the glass of starry waves! Oh Youth, Youth!