Robin. I’ll not go and tell master any such thing. You know you have got into one scrape already this evening by telling a fib.
Molly. But this time I have proof positive. (Takes up the bonnet.) Look here.
Robin. Why, that does look rather queer, to be sure. But what does that signify? Depend upon it, she’s gone.
Molly. How can that be? Haven’t I been watching outside? Besides, the gates are locked.
Robin. Where can she be then?
Molly. There! I hear her move. Run, quick; fetch master.
Robin. And yet I don’t like to tell upon old tutorer, neither.
Molly. Wouldn’t he have told upon us? But we’ll let master see what a sly old fox he has got in his house. Go, I tell you. (Forces him off.) Now, Mr. Pollypot, I’ll teach you something better than Greek, I will. Ah! here comes Mr. Charles. He’ll be delighted at this, for the tutorer leads the poor lad such a life, that he’ll be glad enough to get quit of him, I warrant me.
Enter Charles, from garden.
Charles. My anxiety is insupportable; and at all risks I must——Why, Molly, what do you want here?