Let us hope he never did. That, speeding out into the clear winter
night, he did bear with him a better determination in his heart. At
all events, there were no more attempts made to rob the new
Horse-House at the Braintree meeting-house. Many a Sunday after that,
Red Robin stood there peaceful and unmolested. Occasionally, as the
years went by, he was tied, of a Sunday night, in Mrs. Polly Wales'
barn.

For, by and by, his master, good brave young John Penniman, married
Ann Wales. The handsomest couple that ever went into the
meeting-house, people said. Ann's linen-chest was well stocked; and
she had an immense silk bonnet, with a worked white veil, a velvet
cloak, and a flowered damask petticoat for her wedding attire. Even
Hannah French had nothing finer when she was married to Phineas Adams
a year later.

All the drawback to the happiness was that John had taken some land
up in Vermont, and there the young couple went, shortly after the
wedding. It was a great cross to Mrs. Polly; but she bore it bravely.
Not a tear sparkled in her black eyes, watching the pair start off
down the bridle-path, riding Red Robin, Ann on a pillion behind her
husband. But, sitting down beside her lonely hearth when she entered
the house, she cried bitterly. "I did hope I could keep Ann with me
as long as I lived," she sobbed.

"Don't you take on," said Nabby, consolingly. "You take my word
for't, they'll be back 'afore long."

Nabby proved a true prophet. Red Robin did come trotting back from
the Vermont wilds, bearing his master and mistress before long.