But to return to my story. Maud was at home the first day that Dick was able to come out after the beating of which I told you. Poor fellow! he was sitting at the door in the sun, and looked very pale and ill. Maud saw him, and asked him how he did.
Dick did not answer, though she spoke very kindly; he only made a face at her, and looked another way.
Maud did not mind this, and at last got him to say that he was unwell, owing to the beating which his father gave him.
This kind neighbour then tried to make him understand that it was very wrong to go from home without leave, and that a child committed a great sin when he rebelled against his father.
“My father hates me,” said Dick in a revengeful tone, “he always has hated me, and he would be glad to see me dead; but—but I’ll run away from him some day or other.”
Maud tried to calm him, and to convince him that he was wrong in thinking that his father hated him, but her kindness seemed to be of no use; Dick got up and went into the house without even saying, “I thank you.”
In a few days Dick got well again, and I am sorry to say the first thing he did was to go with some other good-for-nothing fellows to rob an orchard, when one of whom fell and brake his arm.
This was done one Friday night, Dick got out at his bed-room window, which was over the roof of the stable. They were the greater part of the night about this wicked robbery, and when it was done Dick returned to his room in the same way, after hiding his share of the plunder among some faggots in the yard.
It so happened that his father wanted to move this wood to make room for something else, and he and the ostler set about it the next morning. They soon found the bag full of apples and pears which Dick had put there.