A woman came out of the house, and stood in the porch just where Robin, by raising his head very cautiously, could get a full view of her. She was a very comely, rosy-faced woman. Such a woman as Robin had never seen in all his life before. Her round, apple-blossom cheeks, her contented eyes, her smooth forehead, all denoted that she and want--she and care--she and suffering--were strangers. She and they had never exchanged a hand-clasp. Into her life of full and plenty, these destroyers had not intruded. Shading her eyes from the hot rays of the afternoon sun, the woman looked around her, to right and left of her. Presently her eyes fell on the two little children at her feet; she smiled down at them, then said in her rich, cheery tones-- "Run into the house, Pansy and Cherry. Dinner's ready--a nice apple turnover for each little pet." Laughing and clapping their hands, the sunburnt children disappeared, and the woman was about to follow them, when a peculiarly clucking sound from the old hen, which still remained close to Robin, drew her attention. She stepped across the farmyard, came near the downy brood of chickens, and began reckoning them with a very satisfied expression on her comely face. A slight rustling in the straw overhead caused her to raise her eyes, and there and then she encountered the fixed, half-frightened, half-impudent gaze of the little waif and stray who had been brought to her doors. It took but an instant for Robin to tumble out of his hiding-place, to go on his knees and whine out with a piteous intonation-- "Please, please 'm, 'ow soon'll yer send me to the Lock-h'up?" "Bless us and save us!" said Mrs. Martin, the farmer's wife. She fell back a pace or two in her astonishment, and flushed deeply, half with fear, half with amusement. "Where did you come from, little boy?" she asked, when she could find her voice. "From Lunnon, please, lady. Please, am I to be took to the Lock-h'up?" "John Jones," called out Mrs. Martin, using her by no means weak lungs to some purpose. "I say, John Jones, come here, and be quick about it. See," she added, as the burly driver of the waggon answered her summons, "what you brought back with you along with the unsold hay." "The young warmint!" exclaimed Jones, scratching his head. "Well, well," thrusting his great hand into the hole where Robin had concealed himself, "he'll catch it. Didn't I tell yer as yer'd catch it?" he added, laying his hand with a rough shake on the child's thin shoulder. "No, no; that was the other boy!" exclaimed Robin. "I heard yer say as yer'd take the h'other boy to the Lock-h'up, and I wanted to be took, so I 'id h'up among the straw. I say, worn't it warm?" "Shall I take 'im away, missus?" asked Jones, utterly ignoring Robin's confession, which, indeed--nor can I blame him--he failed to understand.