So Robin's remark about the extra work was met by no comment. But when the boy knelt down as usual to pray that night, how strange it was that no words would come! That covered basket was the only object that danced before his eyes! He had not looked into it, and knew no more than Corrie what it contained. Yet he felt it was not all right. He could think of nothing else. He rose from his knees and opened his Bible; but the texts seemed just black print, and nothing more. He did not even remember what he had read a moment after the book was closed. Hastening into bed, he went off to sleep as fast as possible, and awoke next morning feeling as if something dreadful had happened.
It was later than usual, and he must hurry off without lighting the fire or filling the kettle for mother, because he had to go round by Andover Street for the basket. It was a great relief on reaching Oaklands to see old Jonathan afar off at work in the garden, so that Robin could skirt along by the avenue without being noticed.
Cook received the basket with a nod and a smile, saying—
"Come in after breakfast."
The old gardener stopped for a moment in his work as Robin ran up the path to join him.
"You are late, Robin," he said quietly; "this must not happen again. Remember, we rob our master if we do not give him the full time that he pays us for."
"I could not help it," murmured the boy as he met those kind eyes looking sadly at him.
"There is something the matter," muttered his quick-sighted old friend. "Out with it, Robin! What is troubling you, my lad?"
Ah! how often and often did the boy wish afterwards that he had responded to this loving appeal; but his heart seemed growing as hard as a stone, as, making some trivial excuse about Corrie, he continued his work, and even tried to assume a careless cheerful manner, talking and whistling by turns.
But Jonathan was not deceived, though he made no further comment.