"I suppose you know," said Nutkin, very slowly, as if he meant every word to strike home, "that I shall take you to gaol for this?"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Elsie, in an agony of fright. "We didn't know it was any harm, did we, Ishmael? The eggs were on the ground, and we might have trodden on them. Don't send us to gaol!"
"It's not you, only this young scoundrel," continued Nutkin; "you may have to go before the justices, but it's him as 'll go to gaol for poaching and stealing. I've told the squire scores of times, and now he'll believe me. Get up, you rascal, and come along with me."
Suddenly Ishmael broke into a loud and bitter cry, which rang through the cave, and seemed to be muttered back again from the old quarry.
"Oh, what will mother say when she hears of it?" he cried.
"And what will father say?" jeered the gamekeeper. "And brother Humphrey? We'll take care you don't grow up a drunkard, and a disgrace to the parish, like them, my fine fellow. Come along! Elsie, you run home to your mother, and tell her to be more careful who you keep company with another time. The squire 'll believe me now."
So saying, he dragged Ishmael out of the cave, and taking a strong rope from his pocket, he knotted it into a sort of handcuff, by which he bound the lad fast to him. Elsie followed them, sobbing, to the white dusty road leading to Uptown, where there was a police-station; and then sadly watching them out of sight, she went home, almost heartbroken, to her mother.
[CHAPTER III.]
SATURDAY AND SUNDAY.
RUTH had been hard at work all day hoeing thistles. Many a time she lifted up her eyes to the green woods where Ishmael and Elsie were at play, and recalled the rare days of holiday like it which she had had when she was young. The thought of the children's pleasure made her own work lighter; and though she was tired enough when she heard the church clock strike the hour for leaving the field, she walked along briskly under the hedge, to be home the sooner. Elsie and Ishmael would be fine and hungry before she could get tea ready; and Mrs. Chipchase had promised her some buttermilk, to make them some buttermilk pikelets for a treat.