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CHAPTER VIII.

MILLPOND FARM.

ILLPOND Farm was a straggling, untidy place, like the pond after which it was named. The out-houses were tumble-down, the cattle-yard muddy; the pigs looked forlorn; so did the people belonging to the place.

Robert had easily found it, and on his way had had many bitter reflections.

The loss of the money was terrible to him; it cut off his hope of getting a little ahead of the world, of feeling safe from want if illness should come. Two pounds was a very large sum to Robert, and would have kept him a whole month without working, had sickness laid him by; while if he remained in good health and got steady work, he might buy a few more clothes, which he greatly needed; besides travelling a few miles by rail, if necessary, to seek employment. But all these possibilities were absolutely cut off now; the low

wages he should get at Millpond Farm he must be glad to accept, without hoping to save anything out of them, unless by the greatest self-denial. But what cut Robert to the heart most deeply in this loss, was the belief that Emmy had assisted in the robbery. He remembered that latterly she would run and put a shilling or two of her own, as she called them, under his pillow, saying, "he must take care of them for her till morning," and then, quite early, before he was stirring, the child would run in and snatch the money away. He had little doubt that, instructed by her father and mother, she had stolen away his earnings when she pretended to place her own money there the evening before. How well he recollected her running in, her hurried "good-night" to him, and her last words, "that she should come early in the morning"!

He had trusted the little girl entirely, and talked to her about his Emmy, fancying that she resembled her; she, who was a little thief! Robert felt bitterly, as young people do when they are first deceived, that he could never trust any one again. Later on he learned, what we all learn, that everybody in the world is not to be condemned for the faults of some.

Still more deeply disturbing to Robert was the

idea that God was displeased with him, or He would not have allowed this great trouble to befall him. If God was against him, then he was lost indeed! If God was pursuing him with His anger he knew he could not fight against Him. It was not till some time after this that Robert acknowledged that God pursues us with His love, allowing us indeed (because it is the only way to lead us back to Him) to suffer the consequences of our sins and errors, but ever watchful, as a loving and wise Father, to lead us in all the way wherein we should go.

With these three troubles weighing him down he arrived at the farm, and presenting himself at the back door, (the approach to which was round a muddy pool), he told his name, adding that Mr. Mercer had recommended him.

"Oh, ay! I remember," said the woman who came to speak to him, "but I don't believe as the master has any work for ye just now. I'm sure he can do without a extry hand."

Robert looked so distressed, and said so piteously, "Please may I ask Mr. Carter if he can give me a job?" that the woman answered,

"Yes, you can ask. He's away somewheres on the farm now, so you must wait or else go and see if you can find him. I'm busy, so do one or t'other!"

And with this she left him. Robert remained standing by the muddy pool, over-grown with weeds, among which some clamorous ducks, likewise muddy, were noisily seeking their morning meal, or some addition to it.

This new difficulty of possibly not getting work overwhelmed him. As he was lingering, irresolute

what to do, a wretched-looking farm-boy came along, carrying a pail of water, and spilling a good deal at every step. He stopped to stare at Robert, who at once went up to him and asked, "Do you know where Mr. Carter is ?"

He's away to the turnup-field, that's where he replied the boy gruffly.