CHAPTER VI

A TEMPTING BAIT

ONE morning, Robin entered the kitchen at Oaklands, carrying a basket of freshly-cut vegetables, which the cook stepped forward to take from his hand.

"Good-morning, Robin," quoth she; "you are a good boy, and never keep me waiting; your mother will find there are not many young men in the world like you."

The lad crimsoned to the roots of his hair, while a secret swell of pride inflated his heart, and echoed back the flattering words, as he thought over them with delight. Cook had called him a young man; no one had ever done this before! He felt several inches higher as he looked up and gave a bright smile by way of answer.

"Oh yes," added the cook, "you are just the sort of fellow that will always be a favourite. No one can deny that for a moment! I think there is a nice piece of cold apple-tart in the larder that will just suit you." And she disappeared to fetch it.

Now Robin was extremely fond of nice things, all the more so because he rarely got them. His good mother had always been too poor to provide many luxuries for her children. It was only by hard shift and toil that the wholesome loaf was placed before them. The baked joint, so temptingly surrounded by potatoes, which Robin fetched from the bakehouse every week, exciting often the envy of thoughtless neighbours, had to be eked out by dint of many a painful saving effort on the mother's part; and Robin could often have eaten a great deal more it there had been plenty on the table.

It is not to be wondered at that, under these circumstances, when a tempting bit of apple-tart was offered to him, a greedy pleasure filled his heart as he accepted the proffered dainty. There was no question in his mind whether it was right or wrong to take it, for Robin knew it was the recognised custom of the house to give away scraps in this way. The housekeeper had often desired cook to give him something to eat as he stood and waited.

The boy had yet to learn that the evil of the matter lay in the good things being offered him as a bribe to do wrong. But at the present time he was wholly unaware of such a motive, and only thought, as he munched away outside the door, that cook was very kind. He often wondered why Jonathan had so little to say in the kitchen. Robin had even seen him look severely at the woman sometimes as he gave her his short answers.

"She must be too full of fun," he thought, "for the sober old man;" for her loud laugh was constantly heard.

The boy had made his observations quietly, and, though he had never been told it, knew instinctively that cook detested the head gardener.

She had indeed reason to fear him, for Jonathan was only waiting till something should happen which would prove his surmises correct to speak plainly his opinion of her character.

Robin now began to think his dear old friend was too particular, and hoped he would not appear round the corner before he had finished his bit of tart. Both Jonathan and Robin's mother had warned the boy not to be more in the kitchen than was absolutely necessary, as they knew it was through a quarrel with the cook that his predecessor had lost his place.

But there was surely no need to be too strict! Alas! Poor Robin! How warily and subtly does the tempter take possession of the heart! When Robin had finished, he heard cook calling to him again, and went in to obey the summons.

"Here," said she, with a coaxing smile, "you will not mind doing an errand for me when you go home to the town by and by, will you?"

"Certainly not," replied the boy. "I shall be very glad to do it. What is it?"

"Well," said the woman, producing a good-sized covered basket, "I want you to be kind enough to take this to No. 15 Andover Street. There is a note inside for my mother, about something very particular. You can just hand it in, and call for the basket again on your way here to work to-morrow morning. But," she added, "don't let Mr. Jonathan see it or know anything about it. It is just a little errand for me, that need not concern anybody else."

Robin looked perplexed and uncomfortable. He had not been accustomed to do underhand things; his mother had always brought him up to be quite open; he had never concealed anything from her in his life. Why should he now? Yet, if he refused, cook would never give him anything nice again, and he should not be able to let Corrie have a share of the dainty morsels. That would not be kind, and yet—

A faint remonstrance rose to his lips; but cook did not hear it, as she said, "I will put the basket behind the knife-house door; you can fetch it from there when you leave work; and mind! not a word to anybody."

She was gone, and so was Robin's opportunity of fighting the good fight. He turned away, with a guilty feeling at his heart, to join old Jonathan in the kitchen garden. There was so much digging and planting to be done that day, that Robin's abstracted manner did not attract attention; and the boy set himself to work with double diligence, by way of relieving his conscience, which would awake again and again to trouble him with her stings.

"I have done nothing wrong," persisted Robin's heart; "why should I be unhappy?"

How strange it was that old Jonathan's talk to-day should be of the allurements of sin! "'My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.' 'Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed according to Thy word.'"

"The wise man's eyes are in his head," quoth the gardener, with a frank and sunny smile at Robin. "When you are going on a strange road, you do not walk along staring at the sky. No; your eyes are straight ahead, to see which way you are going. By this means, if there are any pitfalls, you can avoid them; and the finger-posts at the cross-turnings prevent any mistake as to the direction. So with the Christian. The Word of Life is his lamp and guide-book in one, and if he looks into it earnestly enough, he will never go wrong. That is what is meant by 'taking heed according to Thy word.' 'For the commandment is a lamp, and the law is light, and reproofs of instruction are the way of life.' The Holy Spirit feeds the flame in the lamp; and when it shines on the directions in the Word the path is as straight as an arrow."

"Yes," answered Robin, but so absently that his companion stuck his spade into the ground and looked at him.

"Is the little sister more ailing than usual to-day?"

"Oh no, Mr. Jonathan; but I want to get back to her as soon as I can this evening."

"Well, my boy, and so you shall; we have only got to finish this border, shut the glass-houses, and do a bit of watering; then I will walk down with you to my house on your way home. I asked master to-day if I might send a rose plant to Corrie in a pot, and he said, 'Yes; let her have one with plenty of buds on it.' Master is always good and kind. So it is all ready for you to take home to-night; that will be better than the fir branch."

But the gleeful sparkle that usually came into Robin's eyes when any pleasure was in store for Corrie was lacking now; and his old friend noticed it, wondering what was wrong, as the boy answered hurriedly—

"Oh, thank you! How glad she will be Master is very good."

How he wished old Jonathan would not walk down with him to the lodge. What excuse could he possibly find to go back and fetch the basket? There was none; and it seemed to get more and more hopeless as they walked down the avenue.

"There! Take care of the buds, my boy. Carry it steadily; the little lass will love to see them opening every day. Good-night, and God bless you!"

Robin carried the pot down the road a little way, until out of sight of the lodge; then, setting it down dose to the hedge, where it would be hidden by a tree, he climbed a fence, and by a short cut across fields and meadows soon found himself on the back premises of Oaklands. Like a thief, he went stealthily to the outhouse named by cook, snatched up the basket, and ran off again. He had to cross part of the avenue, and while doing so observed his master coming up on horseback, with Miss Clarice on her little white pony cantering by his side.

A dive! A leap! And he was crouching down behind a tree, where he remained in hiding until the riders had passed. He had never before felt ashamed to be found anywhere on the premises of Oaklands. Well, it would only be for this once! Cook would probably never want him to do it again; then it would be all right.

Robin felt greatly relieved when he had rid himself of the basket in Andover Street; but to go there he had to deviate considerably from his homeward route, so that he was later than usual.

"What has kept you, my son? You are a good hour behind time."

"There was some extra work to do, mother; we did not leave work punctually this evening."

Now this excuse was true to a certain extent, though the working hours had not been exceeded beyond ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. Yet Robin felt he had told a lie. Why should his mother have asked that question to-night? She so seldom seemed to notice the hour he got in. But further questioning was cut short by Corrie's exclamations of delight over her rose tree, and in gladness of heart for her poor sick child, Mrs. Campbell forgot all else.

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.

"I must go in presently and ask cook what vegetables are wanted to-day," said the elder man, after working away for some time in silence.

"Oh, let me go!" answered Robin with alacrity; and, almost before his companion could look up, the boy was off at full speed towards the kitchen door.

Cook met him with a smile of approbation. "It is all right," she said. "Mother was so glad I was able to send her that note. I can trust you again to do errands for me. See! here is a good hunch of plum-cake, which you can put in your pocket; and if it is too much for you now, save a bit for your poor little sister. Another day you will go again to mother's house for me, won't you? I cannot get out very often; there is so much to be done in this family."

Robin was thankful she did not ask him to go again to Andover Street that day. It would be time enough to refuse the next time she asked him to do it; he would not make her angry to-day. Thus he silenced the inward monitor once more.

"Has mother been out long, Corrie?" was his first question that evening on returning home, to find the little sister playing alone on the floor with her toys.

"No, Robin, only a few minutes; she said you would be coming directly, and she was obliged to go and get the money from some of the houses. Oh! what is that?" she added, looking with unfeigned satisfaction at the piece of cake.

"Nice cake for Corrie," replied Robin; "you like plum-cake, don't you?"

"Yes, very very much; may I eat it now? We must keep some for mother."

"No," said Robin, as the uneasy thought struck him that it was the price of sin. "You may eat it all; I will bring mother some more another day. Make haste, Corrie, and then I will tell you a story."

"A pretty Bible story?" queried Corrie with a wistful smile.

"Yes, if you like."

So Corrie ate her cake and then curled herself up into her old attitude in Robin's arms, as on that happy night before Christmas, while he began to hunt in his memory for a story.

But somehow it seemed as though he were trying to sing a song and had forgotten the words; each Bible incident that came to his mind brought a condemning meaning with it.

"Tell me about the naughty people in the beautiful garden, Robin, who stole the fruit from the tree God told them not to touch!"

Her brother obeyed; and when he had finished, she looked up into his face and said—

"They would not have been afraid of God, would they, Robin, if they had not been naughty?"

"No!" groaned Robin.

"Does God see us all day and all night too?" continued Corrie. "Even in the dark, when we are under the bedclothes?"

"Yes," answered the boy. "It is never dark with God. He is always looking at us."

"But we need not be afraid," persisted the child, "because you have often told me, Robin, He loves us very much. Mother says she loves me, even when I am naughty, only it makes her heart sore when I do bad things. Does God love like that?"

"Yes, little sister, He does."

And putting up her hand, Corrie felt that Robin's eyes were wet.

At that moment their mother returned, and stories were over for to-night.

"Such nice cake!" whispered Corrie as she was being undressed.

"Did you bring it home for her, Robin?" asked Mrs. Campbell.

"Yes," answered her son; "they gave it to me up at the house."

The answer was scarcely heeded, for with a preoccupied air, the poor woman kissed her little girl as she covered her over in bed, and then sat down at the table to count her earnings, and consider what she could afford to buy the following day.