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.