The Journeyman’s Trial: Set in the 1890s

Jasper choose had to submit his best work to the Guild, or help a girl in need?

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A SHADOW fell across the open doorway of the workshop.

Jasper looked up from his bench, where he was carefully shaving down a board of chestnut for the trug he was making.

It was a crucial item, requiring all his concentration, and the interruption made him frown.

A girl stood there.

She was pretty, bright-eyed and rosy, with ginger curls and a mouth made for smiling but currently, it was not.

In fact, she looked downright worried.

Curious, Jasper put aside the drawing-knife and nodded a greeting.

"Yes, miss?"

"Please," she said.

"I need to see Abe Southern."

"I'm sorry, miss, the master's not here right now. He's down by the river, buying white willow for storing.

"Can I help? I'm Jasper Caldwell, journeyman to the trade." Doubt clouded the girl's face.

"It's Abe I really wanted to see. I wondered if he could repair this."

She held out the trug she was carrying.

It was a standard product, used for the harvesting of cider apples in the hard-fruit orchards.

Scuffed and scratched, the handle worn with use, it had seen better days.

Worse, the supporting frame bore the marks of sharp teeth and the flat board of the base was nibbled right through.

"It was the puppy," the girl explained.

"My brother left the door of the store shed open and Scamp went in and helped himself. He will chew things!

"There are other trugs in there but he had to go and take this one!

"It's Mam's favourite. She always uses it for the harvesting."

Her voice shook and Jasper felt a twinge of sympathy. 

"Scamp by name and scamp by nature, eh?" 

"Well, he's young yet. Scamp is Davy's dog, really. Our mam's away on business.

"I'm Lettie Ford, by the way, from Ford's Apple Orchards, you know?"

Jasper did not know. He had not been here long.