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With a bit of prodding, Gordon confirms your worst suspicions. Not only did he steal from the lord's personal grove, he did so under cover of night, so that he doesn't even have the excuse of accident. All Mabel's idea, of course. Gordon is too simple-hearted for such plots. You try and explain the severity of the crime, how the lord could, if he wished it, have his hands cut off (not that he ever would, preferring more pragmatic punishments like a fine, or, failing that, indentured servitude). Gordon, frightened less by the thought of losing his hands than of facing his father in such disgrace, tries to argue weakly against the possibility. He stumbles through words that you easily recognize as Mabel's: no one saw him, he was careful and only took fruit from the inner parts, he did not take enough to be of notice, and so on. But by the end of it, even he is not convinced. He looks up sullenly from the grave he has dug (for his fright only made him more eager to spend his body at some task). He admits, finally, that he is "in a real pickle at last, Jan" and, as usual, offers the token resistance to your help, bravely willing to bear all in the name of honor and love. But, a few minutes later, as he pats the shovel on the filled mound of earth, he can't help but wonder aloud, all innocence, "what you'd do, Jan boy, in my shoes?"
You reply that that the fruit will have to be put back beneath the trees, as stealthily as they were plucked. Then anyone coming upon them would only think they had fallen naturally from ripeness. Or else, return the fruit directly to the castle under the pretense of a service. It is not Gordon's family (who are honest proprietors of the local inn) that are the maintainers of the orchard, but it is not unusual to pawn such tasks off to others and it is doubtful anyone in the castle will care who does the task, so long as it is done right. Gordon cannot help but mumble about how much Mabel likes apples and whether he could not keep one to give her, for she'll be "as mad as her hair" if he goes to her empty-handed. You tell him you'll explain everything to her yourself. So the grin returns to his face, and with it all the excuses under heaven for Mabel's conduct, joined by this refrain, that "she's a good girl really, Jan, she's a fine girl". In such moments, you deem it wise to withhold your own opinion, though it is exceedingly difficult.
As for the fruit:
>You have Gordon return them (when night falls) beneath the trees from which he plucked them
>You and Gordon will go together to the castle to return the fruit to the lord
>You'll take them yourself and bring them to Mabel, and have her fix the dirty work she has begun
>Write-in
