The incident recalled Sandy to Rothieden and its cares.

He restored the violin to its case, and while Robert was fearing he would take it under his arm and walk away with it, handed it back with a humble sigh and a 'Praise be thankit;' then, without another word, turned and went to his lonely stool and home 'untreasured of its mistress.' Robert went home too, and stole like a thief to his room.
The next day was a Saturday, which, indeed, was the real old Sabbath, or at least the half of it, to the schoolboys of Rothieden.

Even Robert's grannie was Jew enough, or rather Christian enough, to respect this remnant of the fourth commandment--divine antidote to the rest of the godless money-making and soul-saving week--and he had the half-day to himself.

So as soon as he had had his dinner, he managed to give Shargar the slip, left him to the inroads of a desolate despondency, and stole away to the old factory-garden.

The key of that he had managed to purloin from the kitchen where it hung; nor was there much danger of its absence being discovered, seeing that in winter no one thought of the garden.