Would it not have been possible, just barely possible, that had a brother and sister sought out and taken hold of this brother and sister, they might have led them, through their love for one another, into a right way? Then the voices calling Robin would have been, not poverty, but honest independence; not famine, but enough and to spare; not beggary, but the labour of his hands; not crime, but godliness; not the prison, but the home; not the gallows, but a crown of life. Alas! no brother proved himself brother, no Christian in a Christian land came to the rescue. PART III. _WHAT WE DID NOT DO FOR HIM._ "'And I'll bid higher and higher,' Said Crime with wolfish grin, 'For I love to lead the children Through the pleasant paths of sin.'" CHARLES MACKAY. --_Souls of the Children._ "Every man you meet is your brother, and must be, for good or evil."--CHARLES KINGSLEY. CHAPTER I _THOUGH SHE WAS A THIEF, YET ROBIN SHOULD BE HONEST._ It is just possible that had these events happened yesterday instead of a few years ago, Helen might not have succeeded in carrying out her design, but as it was she secured her wish. Cleverly done, it was undiscovered until too late. It was a busy day in the workhouse, and no one noticed the strange baby in Helen's ward. When the morning came, she soothed the child into a heavy slumber with some mixture brought for the purpose by her cousin, and was able to report him fast asleep when she went before the guardians to receive her own dismissal. Helen had been gone an hour before the fraud she had practised was found out. Great and unusual then was the outcry and indignation. Robin was a favourite; he had secured for himself an individuality and a love seldom bestowed upon a workhouse child, and his ugly and miserable little substitute was not welcomed. But in vain the police went on the track; advertisements were put up, even rewards offered, all that was possible done; Robin was never discovered, and the new baby never claimed. Very angry were the board of guardians, and considerable sensation and stir did the unusual event cause. The matron all but escaped dismissal, and stringent new rules were made. But nothing could get back Robin, who had been a pride and credit to the whole workhouse system, and the new baby had to take his place. He grew up as Robin might have done, learned dependence as Robin might have learned it. On the monster school system became an automaton, not an individual; ignorant of the world, went into it; unprepared for temptation, yielded to it; failed, fell. If crime does not shorten his days in another way, he will probably return to the workhouse to die. This is a common story, and one which points its own moral.