A Country mansion in the south of England. The sun rising over a laurel-hedge, flooding the ivy-covered walls with light, and blazing in at the large bay-window of the dining-room. "Take my word for it, Robin, if ever this 'ouse is broke into, it will be by the dinin'-room winder." So spake the gardener of the mansion--which was also the parsonage--to his young assistant as they passed one morning in front of the window in question. "For why?" he continued; "the winder is low, an' the catches ain't overstrong, an there's no bells on the shutters, an' it lies handy to the wall o' the back lane." To this Robin made no response, for Robin was young and phlegmatic. He was also strong.
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