“Robin,” said Jonathan Highcrofft, “turn and look at me. I promise you nothing bad will happen to those boys. You have my word on it. What exactly will happen to them you must give me a little time to think about. But please don’t tar me with the same brush as my cousin Franklin. What kind of monster would I be to turn on these boys who have without doubt helped you keep my baby son alive? I can only hope that the baby is still as you left him.” Jonathan Highcrofft paused to clench his fists and struck the seat beside him impatiently. “Why isn’t this carriage going faster? How long did you say since you’d seen my baby?”
“I …I’m not certain,” replied Robin. “I lost track of the days. It might be as long as two weeks. But Mr. Gribbins will …” Robin stopped and threw a hand to his mouth. He had never intended to say anything about Mr. Gribbins’ part in all this. It might cost him his job!
But Jonathan Highcrofft was quick to pick up on the name. “Mr. Gribbins? Was he in on all this?”
“He …he found us out,” replied Robin, for it was too late now not to confess. “It was when he heard Danny crying for his milk. He likes us being there because he likes the company, he says. He says he was a street boy once too, and thinks they should be treated better than rats. And he loves babies. Please, Mr. Highcrofft, nothing bad will happen to Mr. Gribbins either, will it? His Hannah’s been ailing, and he doesn’t have enough money even to buy her medicines that she needs. What will he do if he loses his job at St. Something?”
“Robin, look at me again,” said Jonathan Highcrofft. “Believe me, Mr. Gribbins is not going to lose his job. I don’t know about his wisdom in storing boys in the cellar of the church, but I certainly can’t fault his reasons for doing it. But far from losing his job, I think it’s high time he had a salary raise, a big one. He’s been a loyal and faithful servant to the church, and there’s no excuse for this not having been taken care of sooner. Did you say Hannah’s been ailing? He’s never said a word about it. I’m sorry to hear it, and you may be sure we’ll look into what kind of care she’s been getting, and see that she has everything needed.” Jonathan Highcrofft paused as a puzzled look crossed his face. “St. Something? May I ask where that is, or even what it is? I thought we were talking about St. Katherine’s?”
At last, Robin had a reason to smile. “We are. St. Something is just what the boys call it. They can’t read or write, so they can’t read the sign in front of the church. But they say all the churches they know about are called St. Something or other. So St. Something is what they call this one.”
Jonathan Highcrofft produced a boyish grin. “Well, St. Something certainly had a secret hiding in its cellar, that’s all I can say. Five boys and a baby!”
He leaped from the carriage almost before it had come to a stop in front of the church. Robin could barely keep up with him as he raced to the cellar door. His hands were trembling as he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket.
“Good thing I’m a vestry member,” he said. “Always have the church keys with me. Never know when they’ll be needed.”
“Mr. Highcrofft,” Robin said, hesitating, for he knew how anxious the man was to see his baby for the first time, “would … would it be all right if I went into the room first? I don’t want to scare them by us both coming at once.”
“Of course! I’ve let my excitement run away with me. You go on in first,” Jonathan Highcrofft said, lowering his voice to a whisper as they entered the hallway. “I’ll wait here and give you a few minutes.”
So he remained behind as Robin crept softly to the door through which he could see the faint light of the candles he knew must be burning. When he entered the room, the boys did not see him at first, for they were all down on the floor, laboriously writing on scraps of paper with their pencil stubs. Robin cleared his throat, and Piggy looked up.
“Robin!”
They were all on their feet in an instant, crowding round him.
“We been dyin’ here, wonderin’ wot were happenin’ ter you,” Duck said.
“How’d you git away?” Mouse asked.
“C’mon tell us. Tell us!” Spider started jumping up and down in a high state of excitement.
But before Robin could answer a single question, Jonathan Highcrofft, having heard the uproar from the room, could contain his impatience no longer. He ran into the room.
The boys’ faces froze.
“Wot did you do, Robin? Lose us our home?” Duck asked simply.
“Do we got ter go back ter the pier?” Piggy asked.
“Or git sent back ter our pa?” said Spider, his pale face grown even paler.
“Or the workhouse?” said Mouse. “Wot you done ter us, Robin? We b’lieved as how you was our friend.”
Jonathan Highcrofft, to his great credit, restrained his desperate desire to see what it was he had come there to see. He quickly replied for Robin, who was too stunned to speak.
“Robin is still the very best friend you could have,” he said. “And I have made him a solemn promise that not one of you is going back to live under the pier, or to fathers who beat you, or even to the workhouse. Just what we’re going to do about finding you a new home, as I
