SET FREE!
THE master of Oaklands was somewhat surprised late that evening to receive a message from his gardener requesting to speak with him in his business room.
"Say I will be there in a few minutes," was the answer. "I hope there is nothing wrong," said the gentleman to his wife. "It is most unusual for Jonathan to ask for me at this time in the evening."
The few minutes seemed like hours to poor Robin as he sat waiting with Jonathan, his ear attent for the first footstep along the passage, his eye fixed on the handle of the door, watching for it to turn. Even the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to be pronouncing a severe sentence as it ticked loudly, and presently struck the hour with a sharp decisive clang like the strokes of a hammer. Before Robin had finished counting it, the master entered; and one look at the lad's downcast shame-covered face caused him to inquire quickly, "Why, what is the matter, Jonathan? Is Robin in disgrace?"
"Ah, sir, he is in sore trouble," replied Jonathan, rising to speak, "and there can be no relief for him till you know all about it. I will tell you the whole matter from beginning to end, and may God guide your judgment."
So the master listened patiently to every word, only interrupting the gardener now and then to ask Robin some questions, which were truthfully answered.
"Say to your mistress, I should be glad if she would come here immediately," said the gentleman to a servant, after ringing the bell; "and tell cook I wish to speak to her."
Robin ventured to lift his eyes to the gentle lady's face as she entered, hoping to find pity and sympathy there. As he did so, cook appeared, looking very red and uncomfortable, yet with a bold stare on her face, as though she could not imagine why she was wanted. She darted a keen look of hatred at her victim, when she caught sight of the fatal basket on the table, which so terrified the poor boy that he shook from head to foot.
"Cook, will you tell me what is in that basket?" said her master quietly.
The woman muttered something indistinctly about mother wanting a few things; then, trying to cover her defeat by an outburst of passion, said fiercely, "That is my basket. No one has a right to touch it but me. That boy is a sneak and a liar, and—"