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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19057-8.txt b/19057-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bd58bf --- /dev/null +++ b/19057-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9206 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Red-Robin, by Jane Abbott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Red-Robin + +Author: Jane Abbott + +Illustrator: Harriet Roosevelt Richards + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19057] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED-ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +RED-ROBIN +BY +JANE ABBOTT + +AUTHOR OF KEINETH, HIGHACRES, APRILLY, Etc. + +With Illustrations By +HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +[Illustration: THE EFFECT WAS VERY CHRISTMASY--Page 196] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TO BETSY + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + + Prologue--A Story Before the Story 11 + I. The Orphan Doll 19 + II. A Prince 28 + III. The House of Forsyth 39 + IV. Red-Robin 49 + V. Jimmie 61 + VI. The Forsyth Heir 70 + VII. Beryl 79 + VIII. Robin Asserts Herself 90 + IX. The Lynchs 103 + X. The Lady of the Rushing Waters 114 + XI. Pot Roast and Cabbage Salad 126 + XII. Robin Writes a Letter 138 + XIII. Susy Castle 151 + XIV. A Gift to the Queen 164 + XV. The Party 176 + XVI. Christmas at the Manor 190 + XVII. The House of Laughter 204 +XVIII. The Luckless Stocking 220 + XIX. Granny 235 + XX. Robin's Beginning 250 + XXI. At the Granger Mills 266 + XXII. The Green Beads 279 +XXIII. Robin's Rescue 292 + XXIV. Madame Forsyth Comes Home 305 + Epilogue--A Story After the Story 318 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +ILLUSTRATIONS + PAGE + +The Effect Was Very Christmasy Frontispiece +The Beautiful Little Girl Had Not Spoken To Her 20 +"Couldn't I Run Away With You?" 56 +"It's Like The House of Bread And Cake" 119 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +RED-ROBIN + +PROLOGUE + +A STORY BEFORE THE STORY + + +On a green hillside a girl lay prone in the sweet grass, very still that +she might not, by the slightest quiver, disturb the beauty that was +about her. There was so very, very _much_ beauty--the sky, azure blue +overhead and paling where it touched the green-fringed earth; the +whispering tree under which she lay, the lush meadow grass, moving like +waves of a sea, the bird nesting above her, everything-- + +And Moira O'Donnell, who had never been farther than the boundaries of +her county, knew the whole world was beautiful, too. + +Behind her, hid in a hollow, stood the small cottage where, at that very +moment, her grandmother was preparing the evening meal. And, beyond, in +the village was the little old stone church and Father Murphy's square +bit of a house with its wide doorstep and its roof of thatch, and Widow +Mulligan's and the Denny's and the Finnegan's and all the others. + +Moira loved them all and loved the hospitable homes where there was +always, in spite of poverty, a bounty of good feeling. + +And before her, just beyond that last steep rise, was the sea. She could +hear its roar now, like a deep voice drowning the clearer pipe of the +winging birds and the shrill of the little grass creatures. Often she +went down to its edge, but at this hour she liked best to lie in the +grass and dream her dreams to its lifting music. + +Her dream always began with: "Oh, Moira O'Donnell, it's all yours! It's +all yours!" Which, of course, sounded like boasting, or a miser gloating +over his gold, and might have seemed very funny to anyone so stupid as +to see only the girl's shabby dress and her bare feet, gleaming like +white satin against the green of the grass. But no fine lady in that +land felt richer than Moira when she began her dreaming. + +Of late, her dreams were taking on new shapes, as though, with her +growth, they reached out, too. And today, as she lay very still in the +grass, something big, that was within her and yet had no substance, +lifted and sung up to the blue arch of the sky and on to the sun and +away westward with it, away like a bird in far flight. + +Beyond that golden horizon of heaving sea was everything one could +possibly want; Moira had heard that when she was a tiny girl. America, +the States, they were words that opened fairy doors. + +Father Murphy had told her much about that world beyond the sea. He had +visited it once; had spent six weeks with his sister who had married +and settled on a farm in the state of Ohio. His sister's husband had all +sorts of new-fangled machinery for plowing and seeding, and for his +reaping! And Father Murphy had told her of the free library that was in +the town near his sister's home, where he could sit all day and read to +his heart's content. + +Father Murphy (he had spent three whole days in New York) had made her +see the great buildings that were like granite giants towering over and +walling in the pigmy humanity that beat against their sides like the +rise and fall of the tide; he told her of the rush and roar of the +streets and of the trains that tore over one's head. + +And he told her of the loveliness that was there in picture and music. +Moira, listening, quivering with the longing to be fine and to do fine +things, could always see it all just as though magic hands swept aside +those miles of ocean dividing that land of marvel from her Ireland. + +That was why it was so simple to let her dream-mind climb up and away +westward. Her eyes, staring into the paling blue, saw beautiful things +and her thoughts revelled in delicious fancies. + +That slender, gold crowned bit of a cloud--_that_ was Destiny circling +her globe, weaving, and moulding, and shaping; Moira O'Donnell's own +humble thread was on her loom! And Destiny's face was turned westward. +Moira saw shining towers and thronged streets and fields greener than +her own. Far-off music sounded in her ears as though the world off there +just sang with gladness. And it was waiting for her--her. She saw +herself moving forward to it all with quick step and head high, going to +a beautiful goal. Sometimes that goal was a palace-place, encircled by +brilliant flowers, sometimes a farm like Father Murphy's sister's and a +husband who worked with marvelous contrivances, sometimes a free library +with all the books one could want, sometimes a dim, vaulted space +through which echoed exquisite music-- + +She so loved that make-believe Moira, moving forward toward glowing +things, that she cried aloud: "That's me! _Me!_" And of course her voice +broke the spell--the dream vanished; there was nothing left but the +fleecy cloud, the meadow lark's song, close by. + +There was just time enough before her grandmother needed her, to run +down to Father Murphy's. She knew at this hour she would find him by his +wide doorstep. Fleetly, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft earth, +she covered the distance to his house. She ran up behind him and slipped +her fingers over his half-closed eyes. + +He knew the familiar touch of the girl's hands. He patted them with his +own and moved aside on his bench that she might sit down with him. + +"Father," she said, very low, her eyes shining. "It's my dream again." + +The old priest did not chide her for idling, as her grandmother would +have done. The old priest dreamed, too. + +"Tell me," she went on. "Can one go to school over there as long as one +likes? Is it too grown-up I am to learn more things from books?" + +The old Father told her one could never be too old to learn from books. +He loved her craving for knowledge. Had he not taught her himself, since +she was twelve? He looked at her proudly. + +"Father!" She whispered now, and the rose flush deepened in her face. +"It's Danny Lynch that comes every evening to see me." + +Now Father Murphy turned squarely and regarded her with startled eyes. +This slip of a girl was the most precious colleen in his flock. + +"And, Father, it's of America _he_ talks all the time!" + +The old priest shivered as though from a chill. Sensing his feeling, +Moira caught his hand quickly and held it in a close grip. + +"But if I go away it's not forgetting you I'll be! Oh, who in all this +world has been a better friend to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moira +but you?" + +"Child--" + +"Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang to her feet and stood slimly +erect. "See?" + +He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest had not noticed. Moira--" he +caught her arm, leaned forward and peered into her face as though to +see through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it courage I have taught +ye? And honor? And faith?" + +Her heart was singing now over the secret she had shared with him. Who +would not have courage and faith when one was so happy? With a lift of +her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged away his seriousness. + +"If you could only see me, Father, as I am in my dream. Oh, it's +beautiful I am! And smart! And rich!" + +"Not money," broke in the priest with a ring of contempt. + +"Sure, no, not money! But fine things. Oh, Father," she clasped her +hands childishly. "It's fine things I want. The very finest in the +world! And I want my Danny to want them, too." + +"Fine things," he repeated slowly. "And will ye know the fine things +from the dross, child? That wealth is more times what ye give, aye, than +what ye get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart of you is +unselfish--" + +"What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking frogs in the Widow +Finnegan's pond you are! But, sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, as +real as real, as I lay dreaming--Destiny herself, as fine as you please, +sailing to the new world, a-spinning on her loom. She had Moira +O'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this +minute it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl's +eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but my +poor heart's so light it hurts--here." + +The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch it +bowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness in +the kindly eyes. + +"It's God's blessing I ask for ye--and yes, may your dream come true--" + +"Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered Moira. + +"For the both of ye!" + +"Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me and no blessing," laughed +the girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be +off, Father dear." + +"Wait." The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came out +carrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping +the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of green +beads. + +"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with the +youthful certainty that all lovely things were her due. + +"Yes. To remember my blessing." He regarded them fondly, lifted them +that she might see their beauty against the sun's glow. "'Twas in a +little shop in London I found the pretty things." + +Moira knew how much he must love them as a keepsake--that visit to +London was only next in his heart to the trip to America. She caught his +hands, beads, tissue wrappings and all. + +"Oh, it's precious they are! And you too!" + +The Father fastened them over the girl's shabby dress. "They are only +beads," he admonished. "But it's of this day they'll remind you." + +He watched Moira as she ran off down the lane. He noted the quick, sure +tread of her feet, the challenging poise of her head. "Colleen--" he +whispered with a smile. "Little colleen." He turned to his door and his +lips, even though they still twisted in a smile, moved as though in +prayer. + +"And may God keep pure the dream in the heart of ye!" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE ORPHAN DOLL + + +November--and a chill wind scurrying, snapping, biting, driving before +it fantastic scraps of paper, crackly leaves, a hail of fine cinders. An +early twilight, gray like a mist, enveloped the city in gloom. Through +it lights gleamed bravely from the grimy windows rising higher and +higher to the low-hanging clouds, each thin shaft beckoning and telling +of shelter and a warmth that was home. + +High over the heads of the hurrying humanity in a street of tenements +Moira Lynch lighted her lamp and set it close to the bare window. With +her it was a ceremony. She sang as she performed the little act. Without +were the shadows of the approaching night--gloom, storm, disaster, +perhaps even the evil fairies; her lamp would scatter them all with its +glow, just as her song drove the worries from her heart. + +Her lamp lighted, she paused for a moment, her head forward, listening. +Then at the sound of a light step she sprang to the door and threw it +open. A wee slip of a girl, almost one with the shadows of the dingy +hallway, ran into her arms. + +"And it's so late you are, dearie! And so dark it's grown--and cold. +Your poor little hands are blue. Why, what have you here, hidin' under +your shawl? Beryl Lynch! Dear love us--a doll!" With a laugh that was +like a tinkling of low pitched bells the little mother drew the treasure +from its hiding place. But as her eyes swept the silken splendor of the +raiment her merriment changed to wonder and then to fear. + +"You didn't--you didn't--oh, Beryl Lynch, you--" + +"Steal it? No. Give me it. I--found it." + +But the terror still darkened the mother's eyes. + +"And where did you find it?" + +"On the bench. She left it. She forgot it. Ain't it mine now?" +pleadingly. "I waited, honest, but she didn't come back." + +Mrs. Lynch was examining the small wonder with timid fingers, lifting +fold after fold of shining satin and dainty muslin. + +"Who was she?" she asked. + +"A kid." Little Beryl kindled to the interest of her story. Had not +something very thrilling happened in her simple life--a life the +greatest interest of which was to carry to the store each day the small +bundle of crocheted lace which her mother made. "She was a swell kid. +She played in the park, waitin' for a big man." + +"Did she talk to you?" breathlessly. + +Beryl avoided this question. The beautiful little girl had _not_ spoken +to her, though she had hung by very close, inviting an approach with +hungry eyes. + +"She was just a little kid," loftily. Then, "Ain't the doll mine?" + +Mrs. Lynch patted down the outermost garment. "Yes, it's yours it is, +darlin'. At least--" she hesitated over a fleeting sense of justice, +"maybe the little stranger will be a-coming back for her doll. It's a +fair bit of dolly and it's lonesome and weeping the little mother may be +this very minute--" + +Beryl reached out eager arms. + +"It's an orphan doll. I'll love it _hard_. Give me it. Oh," with a +breath that was like a whistle. "_Ain't_ she lovely? Mom, is she _too_ +lovely for us?" + +The timid question brought a quick change in the mother's face, a +kindling of a fire within the mother breast. She straightened her +slender body. + +"And if there's anything too good for my girlie I'd like to see it! +Isn't this the land where all men are equal and my girl and boy shall +have a school as good as the best and grow up to be maybe the President +himself?" She repeated the words softly as though they made a creed, +learned carefully and with supreme faith. Why had she come, indeed, to +this crowded, noisy city from her fair home meadows if not for this +promise it held out to her? + +"And isn't your brother the head of his class?" she finished +triumphantly. "And it's smarter than ever you'll be yourself with your +little books. Oh, childy!" She caught the little girl, doll and all, +into an impulsive embrace. + +From it Beryl wriggled to a practical curiosity as to supper. She +sniffed. Her mother nodded. + +"Stew! And with _dumplin's_--" She made it sound like fairy food. "Ready +to the beating when your father comes." + +"Where's Dale? And Pop?" + +"It's Dale's night at the store. And Pop'll be comin' along any minute. +I've set the lamp for him." + +"I'm hungry," Beryl complained. She sat down cross-legged on the +spotless scrap of carpeting and proceeded with infinite tenderness to +disrobe the doll. + +"Do you think she will like it here?" she asked suddenly, looking about +the humble room which for the Lynch's, served as parlor, dining-room and +kitchen. Now its bareness lay wrapped in a kindly shadow through which +glinted diamond sparks from much-scrubbed tin. "It's _nice_--" Beryl +meditated. She loved this hour, she loved the singing tea-kettle and the +smell of strong soap and her mother's face in the lamplight, with all +the loud noises of the street hushed, and the ugliness outside hidden by +the closed door, against the paintless boards of which had been nailed a +flaming poster inviting the nation's youth to join the Navy. + +"But maybe this home'll be--too different," she finished. + +The mother's eyes grew moist with a quick tenderness. Her Beryl, with +this wonder of a dolly in her arms! Her mind flashed over the last +Christmas and the one before that when Beryl had asked Santa Claus for a +"real doll" and had cried on Christmas morning because the cheap little +bit of dolldom which the mother had bought out of her meagre savings +would not open or shut its eyes. And now--the impudent heart of the +blessed child worrying that the home wasn't good enough for the likes of +the doll! + +"It's a good home for her where it's loving you are to her. It's the +heart and not the gold that counts. And who knows--maybe it's a bit of +luck the dolly'll be a-bringing." + +As though a word of familiar portent had been uttered Beryl lifted a +face upon which was reflected the glow of the little mother's. Babe as +she was, she knew something of the mother's faith in the fickle god of +chance, a faith that helped the little woman over the rough places, that +never failed to brighten her deepest gloom. Did she not staunchly +believe that someday by a turn of good fortune she and her Danny would +know the America and the good things of which they had dreamed, sitting +in the gloaming of their Ireland, their lover's hands close clasped? But +for that hope why would they have left their dear hillsides with the +homely life and the kindly neighbors and good Father Murphy who had +taught her from his own dog-eared books because she was eager and quick +to learn? Through the fourteen years since they had come to America +those girl-and-boy dreams had gone sadly astray, but the little wife +still clung to the faith that they'd have the good things sometime, her +Danny would get a better job and if he didn't there was young Dale, +always at the head of his class in school and even the baby Beryl, as +quick as anything to pick out words from her little books. + +"A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. Her eyes grew round and +excited. "Then I can ride all day on a 'bus and go to the Zoo, can't I? +And can I have a new coat with fur? And go to Coney? And shoot the +shoots? And can Dale ride a horse? And can Dale and me go across the +river where it's like--that?" nodding to the poster. + +Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's anticipations. The +floor creaked and the kettle sang louder than before. + +"That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave girl you'll be, going +to school and learning more than even poor old Father Murphy knew, God +love him. And by and by--" + +But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked her words. That slow +tread was not her big Danny nor the young Dale! At a knock she flew to +the door. + +"Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence." She caught the old man who stood +on the threshold and laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraid +I was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't home yet but you shall +stay and eat dumplin's with us--the best outside of our Ireland--" + +[Illustration: THE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL HAD _NOT_ SPOKEN TO HER] + +"No! No!" protested the old man, regretfully. "My old woman's waitin'! +_Bad_ news! It's _good_ news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman of +the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and that +Dan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin' +home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at the +pleasant odor from the stove. + +"A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira Lynch caught her hands together. +"It's the good luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on the +docks works harder than my big Dan." Her eyes shone like two stars. + +"Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so I'll go along. +Good-night, Mrs. Lynch." + +"God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered Moira, too overcome to manage +her voice. + +Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught the +wondering Beryl into her arms. + +"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be to +have doubted. My big Dan!" + +"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interrupted +Beryl, round-eyed. + +"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone she would have used if +she had said "a king." She-danced about until the floor creaked +threateningly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. And it's fine +and beautiful my girl shall be with a dress as good as the next one. +Wait! Wait!" She flew into the tiny bedroom, returning in a moment with +a small box in her hands. From it she lifted a string of round green +beads and held them laughingly before Beryl's staring eyes. + +"My beads! You shall wear them this night. It's the good old Father's +blessing." She clasped them about Beryl's neck, fingering them tenderly. + +"Pretty beads. Pretty beads," cried the little girl. + +Suddenly quieted by a rush of memories Mrs. Lynch sat down and took +Beryl upon her lap. "Beryl darlin', was the likes of that other little +girl--the one who forgot the dolly--fine and beautiful?" + +"Oh, yes!" The child's voice carried a note of wonder. + +"And you shall be fine and beautiful, too, Moira Lynch's own girl, just +as I used to dream for my own self, the selfish likes o' me. You shall +go to school and learn from good books. Didn't the old Father tell me of +the fine schools he had seen when he visited his sister in America? And +anybody can go--anybody!" + +Little Beryl felt that it was a solemn moment. She lifted serious eyes. +"I promise," she drawled, with a gravity out of all proportion to her +six years, "I promise to go to school and learn lots like Dale and be +fine and boo'ful so's my 'dopted dolly will like me as well as--that +other kid. I've gotta be good 'nough for her. So there." + +The child could not comprehend the obstacles which might threaten such a +standard; she stared bravely into the unblinking eyes of the doll who +smiled back her graven smile. + +Then: "I'm hungry," she declared, suddenly deciding that dumplings were +more important than anything else. "And can my Dolly sit in Pop's seat?" + +"That she can," cried the mother, going to her "mixin'." "And what a gay +supper it will be--with the new dolly and the pretty beads and the +dumplin's. Oh, Himself a foreman!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A PRINCE + + +Promptly at nine o'clock, young Dale Lynch turned the key in the door of +"Tony Sebastino, Groceries" and started, whistling, homeward. Three +times a week, from the close of school until nine o'clock, he worked in +the store, snatching a dinner of bananas, or bread and cheese, between +customers. Because "Mom" had whispered that there were to be "dumplin's" +this night and that she would keep some warm for him, and because the +wind whipped chillingly through his thin clothing, he broke into a run. + +His homeward way led him past a bit of open triangle which in the +neighborhood was dignified by the name of park, a dreary place now, +dirty straw stacked about the fountain, dry leaves and papers cluttering +the brown earth and whipping against the iron palings of the fence. +Dale, still whistling, turned its corner and ran, full-tilt, upon a bit +of humanity clinging, like the paper and leaves, to the fence. + +"Giminy Gee!" Dale jumped back in alarm. Then: "Did I scare you, kid? +Oh, say, what's the matter?" For the face that turned to his was red and +swollen with weeping. "Y'lost?" This was Dale's natural conclusion, for +the hour was late, and the child a very small one. + +"I lost--my Cynthia." + +"Your--_what_?" + +"My--my Cynthia. She's my b-bestest doll. I forgot her." The voice +trailed off in a wail. + +Dale, touched by her woe, looked about him. Certainly no Cynthia was +visible. By rapid questioning on his part he drew from her the story of +her desertion. She had played a nice game of running 'round and 'round +and counting the "things," waiting for Mr. Tony; Cynthia did not like to +run because it shook her eyes, so she had put her down on the edge of +the straw where the wind would not blow on her. And then Mr. Tony had +come and had told her to "hustle along" and she "had runned away and +for-g-got Cynthia!" + +"Well, I guess she's somebody else's Cynthia now, kid. Things don't stay +long in the parks 'round here." + +Dale seemed so very old and very wise that the tiny girl listened to his +verdict with blanching face. He knew, of course. + +"Where d'you live?" demanded Dale. "Why, you're just a baby! Anybody +with you?" + +The child pointed rather uncertainly to one of the intersecting streets. + +"I come that way," she said, then, even while saying it, began to wonder +if that were the way she had come. The streets all looked so much +alike. She had run along the curb, so as to be as far away as possible +from the dark alley ways and the doors. And it had been a long way. + +Her lip quivered though she would not cry. After Cynthia's fate, just to +be lost herself did not matter. + +"Well, don't you know where you live? What's the street? I'll take you +home." + +"22 Patchin Place," lisped the child. + +Dale hesitated a moment to make sure of his bearings. "Well, then, come +along. I know where that is. And you forget 'bout your Cynthia. You've +got another doll, haven't you? If you haven't, you just ask Santa Claus +for one. Why, say, kiddo, what's this? You lame?" For the little girl +skipped jerkily at his side. + +"That's just the way I'm made," the child answered, quite indifferent to +the shocked note in the boy's voice. "I can walk and run, but I go +crooked." + +"What's your name?" + +"Robin Forsyth." She made it sound like "Wobbin Force." + +"Oh, Wobbin Force. Funny name, isn't it? And what's your Ma and Pa going +to say to you for running off?" + +Putting a small hand trustingly into the boy's big one, the child +skipped along at his side. "Oh, nothing," she answered, lost in an +admiring contemplation of her rescuer. "What's they, anyway?" + +"A Ma? Don't you know what your mother is?" + +Little Robin met his astonishment with a ripple of laughter. "Oh a +_mother_! I had a lovely, lovely mother once but she's gone away--to +Heaven. And is a Pa a Jimmie?" + +"A--what?" Dale had never met such a strange child. + +"'Cause Jimmie's my Parent. I call him Parent sometimes and sometimes I +call him Jimmie." + +If his companion had not been so very small Dale might have suspected an +attempt at "kidding." He glanced sidewise and suspiciously at her but +all he saw was a cherub face framed in a tilted sky-blue tam-o'shanter +and straggling ends of flaming red hair. + +"Jimmie won't scold me. _He'd_ want me to try to find Cynthia." Robin +smothered a sigh. "He wasn't home anyway." + +"D'you live all alone? You and your Jimmie?" + +"Oh, yes, only Aunt Milly's downstairs and Grandpa Jones is 'cross the +hall, so I'm never 'fraid. They're not my really truly aunt's and +grandfather's--I just call them that. And Jimmie leaves the light +burning anyway. What's your name? And are you very old? Are you a man +like Jimmie?" + +Dale, warming under the adoration he saw on the small face, felt very +big and very manly. He returned the little squeeze that tugged on his +hand. + +"Oh, I'm a big fellow," he answered. + +"You look awful nice," the little girl pursued. "Just like one of my +make-believe Princes. I wish you lived with Jimmie and me. I wouldn't +mind Cynthia then." + +"But the Princes never lived with the little girls in the stories, you +know," argued Dale, finding it a very pleasant and unusual sensation to +act the rôle of a Prince even to a very small girl. "You have to find +me, you see." + +Miss Robin jumped with joy. "Oh, goody, goody! I'll always make b'lieve +you are a Prince and I'll find you and you must find me, too. You will, +won't you?" + +"You just bet I will," promised Dale, easily. "Here's your street." He +stopped to study the house numbers. Suddenly a door flew open wide and a +bareheaded man plunged into the street, almost tumbling upon them. + +"Robin! Good gracious! I thought you were--stolen--lost--" + +Robin, very calm, clasped him about his knee. + +"I _was_ lost, Jimmie. But this very big boy brought me home. He's a +Prince--I mean he's my make-believe Prince." + +"But, Robin--" The man turned from the child to Dale. + +"I found her way down by Sheridan Square. She was hunting for her doll +she'd left there." + +"While I was walking with Mr. Tony this afternoon I played in the park +and I forgot Cynthia." + +"Good Heavens--and you went way off there all by yourself to find the +thing?" + +In her pride of Dale, Robin overlooked the slur on Cynthia. + +"I went alone," she repeated, "but I came home with my Prince." + +Gradually Robin's father was recovering from his shock. The muscles of +his face relaxed; he ran his fingers through his thick hair, red like +the child's, with a gesture of throwing off some horrible nightmare. To +Dale he looked very boyish--with a little of Robin's own cherubic +expression. + +"Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And you must promise not to do +it again. Why, I can't ever leave you alone unless you do." + +He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to leave the little Robin +under the doubtful protection her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end grateful +to you, my boy. If there's anything I can do for you--" He slipped one +hand mechanically into his pocket. + +"_I_ don't want anything." Dale spoke curtly and stepped back. "It +wasn't any bother; it's a nice night to walk." + +With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that her gallant Prince +was about to slip out of her sight. Her Jimmie had pulled his hand from +his pocket and was extending it to the boy. He was not even inviting him +to come in and smoke like he always invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and all +the others. But of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway. + +She waited until her father had finished his thanks, then, stepping up +to Dale, she reached out two small arms and by holding on to Dale's, +drew herself up almost to the boy's chin. Upon it she pressed a shy, +warm kiss. + +"Good-bye, Prince. You will hunt for me, won't you? Promise! Cross your +heart!" + +Dale, flaming red, confused, promised that he would, then wheeled and +stalked off down the street. After he had rounded the corner he lifted +his arm and wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. Then he stuck +his hands deep in his pockets and whistled loudly. But after a moment, +at a recollection of sky-blue eyes underneath a sky-blue tam-o'shanter, +he chuckled softly. "A Prince! Gee, some Prince!" But his head +instinctively went higher at the honor thrust upon him. + +When he returned from the store, Dale usually found his mother sitting +by the lamp crocheting. But tonight everything was different; scarcely +had he stopped at their landing before the little mother, quite +transformed, rushed to greet him and tell him the wonderful bit of good +fortune. + +Before it his own adventure was forgotten. + +"And it's only a beginning it is--it's the superintendent he'll be in no +time at all, at all," finished Mrs. Lynch. + +"And we can move? And I can join the Boy Scouts? And go to camp next +summer? And have a pair of roller skates?" + +Mrs. Lynch nodded her head to each question. Behind each note of her +voice rippled a laugh. "Yes, yes, yes. Sure, it's a wonderful night this +is." + +"Where's Pop now?" + +"Working with the extra shift," the wife answered, proudly. + +"Any dumplings?" eagerly. + +"And I was forgetting! Bless the heart of you, of course I saved the +biggest. 'Twas like a party tonight for I dressed your sister in the +beads. It's worn out she is, God love her, with the excitement and +trying to keep her wee eyes open 'til her Pop come home. Hushee or +you'll waken the lamb now." + +Dale was deep in thought choosing the words with which he would tell the +good news to the "fellows" on the morrow, his mother was busying herself +with the "biggest" dumpling, when a peremptory knock came at the door. +With a quick cry Mrs. Lynch dropped her spoon--why should anything +intrude upon their joy this night? + +A man stood on the threshold presenting a curious figure for he wore a +heavy coat over a white duck suit. Where had she seen such a suit +before? With a catch at her heart she remembered--at the hospital, that +time Dale had been run over. "Oh!" she cried. "My Dan!" + +"Mrs. Lynch?" The hospital attendant spoke quickly as one would who had +a disagreeable task and must dispose of it without any delay. "Your +husband's had an accident--he's alive, but--you'd better come." + +Mrs. Lynch stood very still in the centre of the room--her hand +clutching her throat as though to stifle the scream that tore it. + +"My Dan--hurt!" She trembled but stood very straight. "Quick, Dale, we +must go to him. My Dan. No, no, you stay with Beryl. Oh, _hurry_!" she +implored the interne, rushing bareheaded past him down the stairway. +"_Hurry._" + +For a few moments Dale stared at the half-open door. In his thirteen +years he had experienced the pinch of poverty, even hunger, the pain of +injury, but never this overwhelming fear of something, he did not know +what. Pop, his big, strong Pop--hurt! Pop, who could swing him even now, +that he measured five feet three himself, to his shoulder! Oh, no, no, +it could not be true! Someone had made a mistake. Someone had cruelly +frightened his mother. Hadn't their luck just come? Hadn't Pop been made +a boss? + +"Mom-ma!" came Beryl's voice, sleepily, from the other room. "Mom-ma, +what's they?" Glad of anything to do Dale rushed to quiet his little +sister. He bade her, brokenly, to "never mind and go to sleep," and he +pulled the old blanket up tight to her chin, his eyes so blinded with +tears that he did not see the waxen head pillowed close to Beryl's. + +Then he sat in his mother's chair and dropped his head upon the table +and waited, his hands clenched at his side. + +"I _won't_ cry! I _won't_ be a baby! Mom'll maybe need me. I'm big now!" +he muttered, finding a little comfort in the sound of his own voice. + + * * * * * + +Poor Robin's Prince; alas, he felt very young and helpless before the +trouble which he faced. + +Big Dan Lynch, he who had been the fairest and sturdiest of the county +of Moira's girlhood, would never work again--as superintendent or even +foreman; the rest of his days must be spent in the wheeled chair sent up +by the sympathetic Miss Lewis of the Neighborhood Settlement House. It +was fixed with a contrivance so that he could move it about the small +room. + +Little Beryl started school which made up for a great deal that had +suddenly been taken from her life, for mother never sat by the lamp, +now, or crocheted. She worked at the Settlement House all day and all +evening busied herself with her home tasks. + +The "lucky dolly" Beryl hid away in paper wrappings. Somehow, young as +she was, she knew her mother could not bear the sight of it. + +And Dale worked every day at Tony's, going to night school on the +evenings when he had used to go to the store. A tightening about the +lips, an older seriousness in the lad's eyes alone told what it had cost +him to give up his ambition to graduate with his class, perhaps at its +head. + +Little Robin with the sky-blue eyes was quite forgotten! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH + + +It was a time-honored custom at Gray Manor that Harkness should serve +tea at half-past four in the Chinese room. + +On this day--another November day, ten years after the events of the +last chapter--Harkness slipped through the heavy curtains with his tray +and interrupted Madame Forsyth, mistress of Gray Manor, in deep confab +with her legal advisor, Cornelius Allendyce. + +Mr. Allendyce was just saying, crisply, "Will your mind not rest easier +for knowing that the Forsyth fortune will go to a Forsyth?" when +Harkness rattled the cups. + +Then, strangest of all things, Madame ordered him sharply away with his +tray. + +Such a thing had never happened before in Harkness' experience and he +had been at Gray Manor for fifty-five years. He grumbled complainingly +to Mrs. Budge, the housekeeper, and to Florrie, Madame's own maid, who +was having a sip of tea with Mrs. Budge in the cosy warmth of the +kitchen. + +Florrie asserted that she could tell them a story or two of Madame's +whims and cranks--only it would not become her, inasmuch as Madame was +old and a woman to be pitied. "Poor thing, with this curse on the +house, who wouldn't have jumps and fidgets? I don't see I'm sure how any +of us stand it." But Florrie spoke with a hint of satisfaction--as +though proud to serve where there was a "curse." Harkness and Mrs. +Budge, who had lived at Gray Manor when things were happier, sighed. + +"It's an heir they be talking about now," Harkness admitted. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Budge and Florrie in one breath. + +Up in the Chinese room Madame Forsyth was saying; "Do you think any +child of that--branch of the family--could take the place of--" + +"Oh, dear Madame," interrupted the lawyer. "I am not suggesting such a +thing! I know how impossible that would be. But on my own responsibility +I have made investigations and I have ascertained that your husband's +nephew has the one child. The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtless +has his ups and downs--most artists do. Now I suggest--" + +"That I take this--child--" + +Mr. Allendyce tactfully ignored the scorn in her voice. "Exactly," he +purred. "Exactly. Gordon is the child's name. A very nice name, I am +sure." + +"The child of an obscure artist--" + +"Ah, but, Madame, blood is blood. A Forsyth--" + +"P'ff!" Madame made a sound like rock hitting rock. Indeed, as she sat +there, her narrow eyes gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lips +tightly compressed, she looked much more like rock than flesh-and-blood. + +Her explosion had the effect of exasperating the little lawyer out of +his habitual attitude of conciliation. + +"Madame, I can do no more than advise you in this matter. I have traced +down this child as a possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, you +have it in your power to will otherwise. But let me say this--not as a +lawyer but as your friend. You are growing old. Will you not find, +perhaps, more happiness in your old age, if you bring a little youth +into this melancholy old house--" + +"I must ask you to withhold your kind wishes until some other time," +interrupted Madame, dryly. "I am at present seeking your advice as a +lawyer. I have not been regardless of the fact that the House of Forsyth +must have an heir; I have been thinking of it for a long time--in fact, +that is all there is left for me to do. And, though it is exceedingly +distasteful to me, I see the justice in seeking out one of--that family. +But, it must be done in my way. My mind is quite made up to that. You +say there is a--child. I wish you to communicate with this child's +father--this relative of my husband, and inform him that I will make +this child my heir provided he can be brought to Gray Manor at once. He +will live for one year here under your guardianship. I will send for +Percival Tubbs who, you may remember, tutored my grandson. Doubtless he +is old-fogyish but from his long association with our family he knows +the Forsyth traditions and what the head of the House of Forsyth should +be. He will know whether this boy can be trained to measure up to it. +If, after a year, he does not, he must go back--to his father. I will be +fair, of course, as far as money goes. If he does--" She stopped +suddenly, her stony demeanor broken. The thin lips quivered at the +thought of that sunny south room in the great house where had been left +untouched the toys, the books, the games, the precious trophies, the +guns and racquets, golf sticks and gloves which marked each development +of her beloved grandson. + +"A very fair plan," murmured the lawyer. + +"You have not heard all," went on Madame Forsyth in such a strange voice +that Cornelius Allendyce looked up at her in astonishment. "I am going +away." + +"You! Where?" exclaimed the man. He could not quite believe his ears. + +"That I do not care to divulge." She enjoyed his amazement. "I am +yielding to a restlessness which in a younger woman you would +understand, but which in me you would no doubt term--crazy. I am going +to run away--to some new place, where, for awhile, no one will know +whether I am the rich Madame Christopher Forsyth or the poor Mrs. John +Smith. Oh, I shall be quite safe; at my bank they will be able to find +me if anything happens. Norris has had entire charge of the mills for a +long time. And Budge and Harkness can take care of things here." + +"Madame," the lawyer was moved out of his customary reserve, "are you +not possibly running away from what may bring you happiness--and +comfort?" + +For the space of a moment the real heart of the woman shone in her eyes. + +"I _am_ running away. I might learn to love this boy and he might not be +what the head of the house of Forsyth _should_ be and I would have to +send him back. And my heart has been torn enough. It is tired. I have a +whim to find new places--new things--to rest--and forget all this." + +There was an interval of silence. Then Mr. Allendyce, lifting his eyes +from the patent-leather tips of his shoes, said quietly: + +"I will carry out your commands to the best of my ability." + +There followed, then, a great deal of discussion over details. And, +while carefully jotting figures and memoranda in a neat, morocco bound +note-book, the little man of law felt as though he were writing the +opening chapters of some fairy-tale. + +Yet there was little of the fairy-tale in the old, empty house, a +melancholy house in spite of its wealth of treasure, brought from every +country on the globe. And there was nothing of romance in the Forsyth +family which had come over to Connecticut from England in the early days +of its settlement and had left to all the Forsyths to come, not only the +beginnings of the Forsyth factory where thread was made by the millions +of spools, and the Forsyth fortune, amassed by those same spools, but +also a deal of that courage which had helped those pioneers endure the +hardships and meet the obstacles of the early days. + +Her business at an end, Madame expressed embarrassment at her +inhospitality in denying Mr. Allendyce his cup of tea. Would he not stay +and dine with her? Mr. Allendyce did not in the least desire to dine +alone with his client but the Wassumsic Inn was an uninviting place and +New York was a three hours' ride away. So he accepted with a polite show +of pleasure and assured Madame that he could amuse himself in the +library while she dressed for dinner. + +Left to himself, the lawyer fell to pacing the velvety length of the +library floor. This led him to one of the long windows. He stopped and +looked out through it across the sloping lawns which surrounded the +house. A low ribbon of glow hung over the edge of the hills which lay to +the west of the town. Silhouetted against it was the ragged line of +roofs and stacks which were the Forsyth Mills. Familiar with them +through years of business association, the little man of law visualized +them now as clearly as though they did not lay wrapped in evening +shadow; he saw the ugly, age-old walls, the glaring brick of the new +additions, the dingy yards, the silver thread of the river and across +that the rows upon rows of tiny houses piled against one another, each +like its neighbor even to the broken pickets surrounding squares of +cinder ground. He knew, although his eyes could not see, that these +yards even now were hung with the lines of everlasting washing, that men +lounged on those back doorsteps and smoked and talked while women worked +within preparing the evening meals. These human beings were machines in +the gigantic industry upon which the House of Forsyth was founded. Did +Madame ever think of them as flesh and blood mortals--like herself? +Cornelius Allendyce smiled at the question; oh, no, the Forsyth +tradition, of which Madame talked, built an impenetrable wall between +her and those toilers. + +Staring at the gray hard line of shadow that was the tallest of the +chimneys the man thought how like it was to Madame and old Christopher +Forsyth. His long connection with the family and the family interests +gave the lawyer an intimate understanding of them and all that had +happened to them. And it had been much. Mr. Allendyce himself often +spoke of the "curse" of Gray Manor. Christopher Forsyth and Madame had +had one son, Christopher Junior. Allendyce could recall the elaborate +festivities that had marked the boy's coming of age, the almost royal +pomp of his wedding. Three years after that wedding the young man and +his wife had been drowned while cruising with friends off the coast of +Southern California. + +This terrible blow might have crushed old Christopher but for the +toddling youngster who was Christopher the Third. The grandfather and +grandmother shut themselves away in Gray Manor with the one purpose in +life--to bring up Christopher the Third to take his place at the head of +the House of Forsyth. + +At this point in his reflections Mr. Allendyce's heart gave a quick +throb of pity--he knew what that handsome lad had been to the old +couple. He thought now how merciful it had been that old Christopher had +died before that cruel accident on the football field in which the lad +had been fatally injured. The brunt of the blow had fallen upon Madame. +And after the boy's death, a gloom had settled over her and the old +house which nothing had seemed able to dispel. As a last desperate +resort the lawyer had suggested, with a courage that cost considerable +effort, the finding of this other heir. + +Mr. Allendyce had known very little of that "other branch" of the +family. Old Christopher had had a younger half-brother, Charles, who, at +the time Christopher took over the responsibilities of the head of the +family, went off to South America where he married a young Spanish girl. +And from the moment of that "low" marriage, as old Christopher had +called it, to the investigation by Mr. Allendyce's agents, nothing had +been heard at Gray Manor of this Charles Forsyth. + +It had cost considerable money to trace him down but, accomplished, Mr. +Allendyce had with satisfaction tabulated the results in his neat little +note-book. Charles had died leaving one son, James. James had one child, +Gordon. They lived at 22 Patchin Place, New York City. + +The thought of the fairy story flashed back into the lawyer's mind. He +knew his New York and he knew Patchin Place, where poverty and ambition +elbowed one another, and squalor stabbed at the heart of beauty. This +Gordon Forsyth had his childhood amid this, lived on the rise and fall +of an artist's day-by-day fortune. Now he would be taken from all that, +brought to Gray Manor, put under special tutorage, so that, some day he +could step into that other lad's place. If that didn't equal an Arabian +Night's tale! + +"I'll go down to Patchin Place myself. I'd like to see their faces when +I tell them!" he declared aloud, with a tingle within his heart that was +a thrill although the little man did not know it. + +Harkness coughed behind him. He turned quickly. Harkness bowed stiffly. +"Madame awaits you in the drawing-room." + +The little man-of-the-law's chin went out. "Madame awaits--" Poor old +Madame; she would not have known how to come in and say "Let us go out +to dinner." There had to be all the ceremony and fuss--or it would not +have been Gray Manor and Madame Christopher Forsyth. + +"All right. I'll find her," Mr. Allendyce growled. Then he was startled +out of his usual composure by catching the suggestion of a twinkle in +the Harkness eye which, of course, should not be in a Forsyth butler's +eye at all. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +RED-ROBIN + + +For twenty-five years Cornelius Allendyce had worn nothing but black +ties. On the morning of his contemplated invasion of Patchin Place in +search of a Forsyth heir he knotted a lavender scarf about his neck and +felt oddly excited. Such a sudden and unexplainable impulse, he thought, +must portend adventure. + +With a notion that all artists were "at home" at tea time, Mr. Allendyce +waited until four o'clock before he approached his agreeable task. At +the door of 22 Patchin Place he dismissed his taxicab and stood for a +moment surveying the dilapidated front of the building--with a moment's +mental picture of the magnificent pile that was Gray Manor. + +A pretentious though slightly soiled register just inside the doorway, +told him that "James Forsyth" lived on the fifth floor, so the little +man toiled resolutely up the narrow, steep stairway, puffing as he +ascended. It was necessary to count the landings to know, in the dimness +of the hallway, when he reached the fifth floor. He had to pause outside +the door to catch his breath; a moment's nausea seized him at the smell +of stale food and damp walls. + +But at his knock the door swung back upon so much sunshine and color +that the little man blinked in amazement. A mite of a girl with a halo +of sun-red hair smiled at him in a very friendly fashion. + +"Does Mr. James Forsyth live here?" It seemed almost ridiculous to ask +the question for surely it must be some witch's cranny upon which he had +stumbled. + +"Yes. But Jimmie isn't home. Won't you come in?" + +Mr. Allendyce stared about the room--a big room, its size enhanced by +the great glass windows and the glass skylight. Everywhere bloomed +flowers in gayly painted boxes and pots and tubs. And after another +blink Mr. Allendyce perceived that there were a few real chairs, very +shabby, and a table covered with a cloth woven in brilliant colors and +some very lovely pictures hanging wherever, because of the windows and +the sloping roof, there was any place to hang them. + +The young girl closed the door, whereupon there came a gay chirping from +birds perching, the bewildered lawyer discovered, in various places +around the room quite as though this corner of a tenement was a +woodland. + +"Hush, Bo, hush. They're dreadfully noisy. They love company. Won't you +sit down?" + +Mr. Allendyce sat gingerly upon the nearest chair. His companion pulled +one up close to him. He perceived with something of a shock that she +limped and at this discovery he looked at her again and drew in a quick +breath. + +Why, here was the oddest little thing he had ever seen. He had thought +her a child, yet the wide eyes, set deep and of the blue of midnight, +had a quaint seriousness and understanding; in the corner of her lips +lingered a tender droop oddly at variance with the childish dimple of +the finely moulded chin. Though the girl's red hair--like flame, as the +lawyer had first thought, gave her an alive look, the little form under +the queer straight dress was diminutive to frailty. + +"Who are you, my dear?" + +"Robin Forsyth. Jimmie calls me Red-Robin because I hop when I walk." + +"Is Jimmie your--" + +"He's my Parent. Do you know Jimmie?" + +"N-no, not--exactly." The little man was wondering how his investigators +had failed to report this young girl. + +"Jimmie ought to be here soon. He went out to sell a picture to old Mrs. +Wycke. She wanted it but she wanted it cheap, Jimmie says. But we didn't +have anything to eat today so he took the picture to her and he's going +to bring back some cake and ice cream. We'll have a party. Will you +stay?" + +"Good heavens," thought Allendyce, startled at her astonishing +frankness. He reached out and patted the small hand. + +"You are very kind. Does your Jimmie sell--many pictures?" + +"Not many--I heard him and Mr. Tony talking. Mr. Tony's his best friend. +If it were not for me Jimmie'd go away with Mr. Tony. Mr. Tony writes, +you see, and he wants Jimmie to illustrate for him." + +"And where is your brother Gordon?" + +Robin stared. "My--brother--Gordon?" + +"Yes. Gordon--" + +"_I_ am Gordon." + +"You!" + +"My real name is Gordon but Jimmie doesn't like it. He always said it +was too formal for a little girl. So he calls me Red-Robin and he says +he'll never call me anything else. Why do you look so funny?" + +For Mr. Allendyce seemed to have crumpled together and to be quite +speechless. + +"Don't _you_ think I'm too, oh, sort of insignificant, to be Gordon? I +like Robin much better." + +The lawyer did not hear her. Here was a fine balking of all his and +Madame's plans. The Forsyth heir! That that heir should be a girl had +never entered their calculations. And a little lame girl at that; Mr. +Allendyce suddenly recalled how Madame had worshipped the splendid +manliness of young Christopher the Third. + +"Is there anything the matter with you, Mr.--why, you haven't told me +your name!" + +With a tremendous effort Cornelius Allendyce pulled himself together. He +flushed under the wondering wide-eyed scrutiny of his companion, who +reached out and laid a small, warm hand upon his. + +"You're not ill, are you?" with solicitude. + +"No--no, my dear. No, I am not ill. But I am upset. You see--I came +here--well, I call it--a most interesting story. Up in Connecticut +there's a small town and a very big mill which has been there for ever +so long, heaping up millions of dollars. And there's a very big house +there that looks like a castle because it's built of gray stone and is +up on a hill--it has everything but the moat itself. And an old lady +lives there all alone." The lawyer paused, a little frightened at a wild +thought that was persistently creeping up over his sensibilities. It +must be the lavender tie or the witchery of the flowers and the absurd +chirping birds. + + +"Oh, that's the old Dragon!" cried Robin, delightedly, with a chuckle as +though she knew all about the old lady and the lonely castle. "That's +what Jimmie calls her--poor old thing. Jimmie says she must be +dreadfully unhappy in that lonely old house after all that's happened +there." + +"Do you--do you mean that--you _know_--" + +"About those rich Forsyth's? Why, of course. That's Jimmie's pet +story--about his terrible relatives." + +"But your father has never--" + +"Seen her? Oh, no. Jimmie's very proud, you see. And he thinks one good +picture is worth more than any old fortune or mill or anything. Oh, +Jimmie's wonderful. Why, we wouldn't trade our little home here for two +of her castles! Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. He says money +kills genius. Only--" She stopped abruptly, flushing. + +"Only what, my dear--" + +"I ought not to rattle on like this to you. Jimmie says I +am--sometimes--_too_ friendly. I suppose it's because I don't know many +people. But I wish I just had a _little_ money. You see _I'm_ not a bit +of a genius. I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my mother did--or do +a single thing." + +Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that he wriggled on the +rickety chair until it creaked threateningly. + +"If you had money, Miss Gordon--what would you do?" + +"Why I'd run away." She answered with startling promptness. "Oh, I don't +mean that I'm not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. But I'm a +girl and I'm lame, so I'm a--a millstone 'round Jimmie's neck!" + +"What in the world--" + +"_Promise_ you won't ever tell him what I'm saying. Oh, he'd feel +dreadfully. You see it's just that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame and +he won't believe that I don't mind a bit--why, I can run and do +everything--and he won't ever go anywhere without me. And an artist +shouldn't have to be tied down; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, when +Jimmie was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now Mr. Tony's going off +for a long cruise in the South Seas on a sailing boat and he wants +Jimmie to go with him. He's going to write stories and he says if Jimmie +sees it all he will make his fortune painting pictures. And he can +illustrate the stories, too. And Jimmie won't go because he won't leave +me. Don't you see what I'd do if I had some money? I'd run away +somewhere and tell Jimmie that he must go with Mr. Tony." + +Mr. Allendyce sprang to his feet and paced up and down the room. In all +his life the world had never seemed so full of youth and color and +adventure as it did at that precise moment; his cautious soul fairly +burst with imaginative daring. + +"Miss Gordon--that's what I came for. I mean, I came to tell this Gordon +Forsyth that the old lady, Madame Forsyth, wanted him to come to Gray +Manor to live--for a year. He's to be tutored there. And if at the end +of a year he is a--" + +"But there isn't any he! Gordon's me." + +"I know. I know. But a Forsyth's a Forsyth." + +"You mean--_I_ might go to--the castle--" + +"Yes, why not? Madame--and I--just took it for granted that you were a +boy, because of your name. But our mistake does not make you any less a +Forsyth or less a possible heir--" The thought was a full-fledged idea +now! + +"Who _are_ you?" broke in Robin, excitedly. + +"I am Cornelius Allendyce, attorney for the Forsyth family. And I am--if +your father consents--your future guardian." + +"Oh, Jimmie'll _never_ consent, never!" + +"Why not?" pressed the lawyer. "You say you have no--particular genius +to be killed by--money." + +"Would it mean that I'd have to give Jimmie up forever?" + +"No, my dear. Indeed no. Madame's plan is that you are to go to Gray +Manor under my guardianship to live for a year. At the end of that time, +if she is satisfied--Why, your father would simply give up any claim--" + +"Oh, you don't know Jimmie. He'd never do it, unless--" she paused, her +eyes suddenly wet, "unless--_I_--gave _him_ up. All his life he's made +sacrifices and given up things for me--big chances. So now--couldn't I +run away with you--and then write and tell him?" + +The Cornelius Allendyce who had lived up to that moment of crossing the +threshold of this fifth-floor witchery would have scorned such a +suggestion as "ridiculous! ridiculous!" But the Cornelius Allendyce of +the lavender tie saw mad possibilities in such a step. Take the girl to +Gray Manor and settle with Mr. James Forsyth afterwards. + +[Illustration: "COULDN'T I RUN AWAY WITH YOU?"] + +"Couldn't I?" + +"Why--yes, if you think your father would accept the situation--when he +knew." + +"Oh, I'd tell him he _had_ to, that he must go away with Mr. Tony. And +he'd go. But, Mr. Allendyce--I couldn't go tonight. I just couldn't let +Jimmie come back with the ice cream and cake and maybe a pumpkin pie +and--not find me here. Our parties are such fun. If you'll come tomorrow +at three o'clock--I'll be ready. But what will the Dragon say when she +sees that I'm a girl?" + +Mr. Allendyce suddenly laughed aloud. The whole thing was so very +simple. Madame only waited a telegram from him to set forth upon her +travels. Why let her know that Gordon was a girl until the year had +passed? + +"We will not worry about that, my dear. Madame is going away. She will +not be back at Gray Manor for a long time. I will call at +three--tomorrow. I trust you will make your Jimmie understand. You know +this is a very unusual step--there are some who might call it +abduction--" + +"Oh, Jimmie wouldn't!" assured Robin. "Not when I tell him why I'm +running away." + +Robin had answered him so indifferently that Cornelius Allendyce felt her +mind was working out a plan for the morrow. He gave a last look about +the room as though he wished to carry away a perfect impression of it, +then patted the girl on the shoulder. + +"Here is my card and the telephone number of my office. If you decide +that this step is--too irregular, if perhaps we ought to talk with your +father first--" + +"No! No!" cried Robin. "That would spoil everything!" + +Down in the street Cornelius Allendyce waved off a persistent taxi +driver, deciding that he needed the vent of exercise to bring him back +to earth. And as he hurried along he felt a curious elation, as though +for the first time he enjoyed a zest in living. As a lawyer his life had +been necessarily cut-and-dried; there had been little room for +adventuring. And now, in a brief half-hour, he had let himself into the +wildest sort of conspiracy. (He stopped suddenly and mopped his +forehead.) He was planning to deliberately deceive Madame Forsyth, to +steal a young and very unusual girl from her parent--and, to assume the +guardianship of this same runaway. Where would it all end? + +But in that half-hour just past something must have happened to the +little man's conscience for even after the startling summing up, he +laughed and walked on with a step lighter than before. + + * * * * * + +Back on the fifth floor of the old house in Patchin Place Robin leaned +over the table writing a letter. Her task was made the more difficult +because of the tears which blinded her eyes. + +"Jimmie, I love you more than anything in the world but I am going to +run away and leave you. I am going to the Dragon. She wants an heir. I +am going to live in the castle and have a tutor. And my guardian is +going to be the Dragon's lawyer--he's ever so nice and fathery--so you +see I will be looked after as well as can be. Jimmie dearest-darling, +you must not worry about me or try to make me come back for I'll be all +right and you must go away with Mr. Tony and paint lots and I'll be so +proud. And please, please Jimmie, make Aunt Milly promise to take care +of the birds and the flowers for they mustn't die. And you will write to +me, won't you? Good-bye, Jimmie, don't forget your hot milk at night. +Yours always and always, Red-Robin." + +She had just signed the letter when James Forsyth opened the door. She +thrust it into her pocket as she turned to meet him. + +"Oh, _Jimmie_!" she cried, for under his arm he carried the picture he +had taken to sell to Mrs. Wycke. + +"She didn't want it," he explained, testily. + +The girl had been well schooled in disappointment; not the slightest +shadow now crossed her face. + +"_Someone_ will, Jimmie," she declared, brightly, taking the heavy +package from him. "And you said yourself Mrs. Wycke couldn't tell a +chromo from a masterpiece. We don't want her to have our picture anyway. +I'm not a bit hungry--are you, Jimmie? Let's sit here all cosy and you +read to me--" and thinking of the note that lay in her pocket, she +reached up very suddenly and kissed her Jimmie to hide the break in her +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JIMMIE + + +Robin found running away amazingly simple. Poor Jimmie, at her urging, +went out quite unsuspecting. She was so excited and there was so much to +be done at the last moment, that she had no time to think what the +parting with all she loved so dearly must mean to her. + +Promptly at three o'clock Cornelius Allendyce tapped on the door. His +face was very red and moist and his hand, as he reached out for Robin's +bag, shook, but Robin did not notice all that; she slipped quickly +through the door and shut it behind her, as though fearful that at the +last moment she might find it impossible to go. + +Out in the thin sunshine, whirring through the traffic of the crowded +streets, neither spoke for breathlessness. Cornelius Allendyce stared at +the buildings and swallowed at regular intervals to steady his nerves--a +trick he had always found most helpful in important legal trials. Robin +kept her eyes glued on the back of the taxi driver's head but he might +have had two heads and one upside down for all she noticed. Her hands in +her lap were clenched very tight and her lips were pressed in a +straight, thin, resolute line. + +But as they kept on past Forty-second street and headed toward Central +Park West the lawyer explained that he was taking her to his own home +for the night. + +"My sister will make you quite comfortable. Tomorrow we will go out to +Wassumsic." He did not say that it was important, too, to give Madame +Forsyth ample opportunity to get away from Gray Manor. + +Robin drew a long breath and relaxed. It had taken so very much courage +to run away that she had little left with which to face her new life. +Tomorrow it might be easier. + +Miss Effie Allendyce took her under her wing in a fluttery, mothery sort +of a way with a great many "my dear's." + +"I suppose," the lawyer had said, looking at the two, "you, Effie, will +have to get Miss Forsyth some clothes tomorrow--" + +"Clothes," Robin cried, astonished. "I--brought some." + +"Well, you probably ought to have some other kind. You see, my dear, you +are a Forsyth of Gray Manor now." He turned to his sister. "Effie, can +you get all she needs--everything, before tomorrow at three o'clock?" + +Effie's eyes danced at such a task--indeed, she could. She knew a shop +where she could buy everything that a girl might need. + +"Well, I'll leave you two to make out lists. Isn't that what you have to +do?" + +So, for a few hours the making of these amazing lists kept Robin's +thoughts from that little fifth floor home and Jimmie. Miss Effie began +with shoes and finished with hats, with little abbreviations in brackets +to include caps and scarfs and all sorts of things. "It is very cold in +Wassumsic," she explained, "and you will live a great deal out of doors. +It is very lovely," she added, making a round period after "sweater." + +And there was another list which included a wrist watch and a writing +set. "They can send on most of these things," she pondered. + +Robin slyly pinched herself to know that she was still a +living-breathing girl; all seemed as unreal as though she had slipped +away into a magician's world. + +But the lists completed, dinner over, alone with her new guardian, an +overwhelming loneliness swept her. Cornelius Allendyce, turning from a +protracted study of the blazing fire, was startled to find the girl's +head pillowed in her arm, her shoulders shaking with smothered sobs. + +"My dear! My dear!" he exclaimed, very much as Miss Effie would have +done. + +"I--I can't help it. I tried--" + +Poor Robin looked so very small in the big chair that remorse seized +Cornelius Allendyce. How could he have taken this little girl from her +corner, shabby as it was? + +It was not too late-- + +"Miss Gordon," he began a little uneasily, wondering what guardians did +when their wards were hysterical. "My dear, don't cry, I beg of you. +Come, it is not too late to go back. We will explain--" + +Robin lifted her head. "I--I don't want to go back. But I was thinking +of Jimmie. He must be awfully lonesome--now. You see you don't know +Jimmie. He depends on me to remind him of things like his hot milk. And +just at first, it will be hard. But, no, no, I don't want to go back." + +"Then I would suggest that you go to bed. You are doubtless very tired +from the excitement of everything. And tomorrow will be a busy day--and +an interesting day." + +Robin drew herself slowly from the chair. She limped over to the divan +upon which Cornelius Allendyce sat. Her eyes were very steady, dark with +earnestness. + +"I'm ashamed I cried. I won't do it again. But I want you to know, oh, +you must know, that I'm not going to Gray Manor because of all those +clothes and the money or anything like that. There could not be anything +at Gray Manor as nice as Jimmie's and my bird-cage. But I want Jimmie to +have his chance--" + +Left alone, Cornelius Allendyce found himself haunted by Robin's "Jimmie +must be awfully lonesome." What a strange pair--the quaint old-young +girl living in a world which circled around this father--the father, by +the girl's own assertion, "depending" upon the girl. And little Robin, +scarcely more than a child, realizing that she hindered the man's +development, talking about giving him "his chance" and at such cost--and +promising that she would not cry again. "There's bravery for you!" +muttered the lawyer aloud. + +He believed that Miss Effie's lists of finery and knick-knacks held +little attraction for the girl. + +He recalled Madame Forsyth's scornful "that other branch of the family." +Yet this James Forsyth and Gordon had lived for years and often in want +in New York City, and had never approached Madame for as much as a +penny. Robin had said Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. Could he +paint if he lost her? + +Suddenly Cornelius Allendyce had a vivid understanding of the tie that +bound these two. And it was unthinkable that this man would let the girl +go and do nothing. Yet it was not of any possible embarrassment _he_ +might suffer that Cornelius Allendyce thought at this moment; it was of +the heartbreak of the father. He had not considered him at all; carried +away by a mad impulse he had let himself listen to a child and had lost +his own sense of justice. Why, it had been rank robbery! He must go to +this man at once. Muttering to himself he went in search of his hat and +coat. + + * * * * * + +For the third time the little lawyer climbed the flights of stairs at 22 +Patchin Place. And this time, so eager was he to square himself with +Robin's Jimmie, he ran up the steps. He knocked twice and when no one +answered he opened the door quietly and walked in. + +A man sat at the little table, his head dropped in his outflung arms. +Cornelius Allendyce knew it was Jimmie. Another man stood over him, his +face flushed with impatience. "Mr. Tony," thought the lawyer. He was +evidently just drawing breath after a heated argument. + +"Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I knocked but I do not think you heard +me." Allendyce stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed out of +place at this moment. "I am Cornelius Allendyce," he finished humbly and +guiltily. "I came back to--explain." + +James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement as though he would spring +at the little lawyer's throat. Mr. Tony held him back. + +"Jimmie--wait. Let him talk." + +"It was Miss Robin's wish to slip away without telling you. She said +you would not let her go and she had quite made up her mind to give +you--what she calls--your chance. She has an idea that she ties you +down--" + +Jimmie choked as a sob strangled in his throat. His anger suddenly +melted to abjection. Mr. Tony laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and +turned to the lawyer. + +"The girl is right. She's a wonderful little thing. She always could see +further ahead than her Dad. I have been telling my pal that this is the +best thing all around that could happen--a fine bit of luck for +everyone. Robin will go up to Gray Manor and be as happy and safe as can +be and her father can travel and work--the way Robin wants him to. Robin +took rather unusual means to gain her end but--well, she knew what she +was doing." + +Jimmie turned to Cornelius Allendyce and studied his face with a +desperate keenness. + +"She isn't like other children," he began slowly. "Poor little crooked +kiddie. She's sensitive. I've kept her away from everything that could +hurt her. I've tried--to make up to her. I thought she was happy; I did +not know she guessed--or knew--" + +Mr. Tony had taken a few steps down the room. He wheeled now and came +back with a set expression on his face as though he had to say something +disagreeable and must get it over with. + +"Jimmie, suppose, just for once, you look your soul straight in the +eye--honest. Now isn't it the artist heart of you that's hurt by Robin's +crooked little body--and not the child? Don't you keep her shut up in +here because, when people stare at her--_you_ suffer? Have you been fair +to her? Oh, yes--you love her, all right. Well, then, let her go. Robin +thinks she's giving you your chance--well, _I_ say, give the girl her +own." + +"I tell you Robin's different--she doesn't want money or clothes!" + +"Well, pretty things--and good food--can make even a 'different' girl's +heart lighter. Come, old man, go off with me on this cruise and work +your head off and at the end of the year--if Robin's not happy there, +well, you can make other plans. I'm like Robin, I believe that give you +a year, you'll do something rather big." + +James Forsyth suddenly lifted a face so boyishly helpless, so defeated, +that Allendyce's heart went out to him. He understood, all at once, what +little Robin had meant when she had said, "You don't know Jimmie!" He +certainly was not like other men. + +"I feel such a--quitter. I promised Robin's mother--I'd make up to the +child for her being lame--the way _she_ would have, if she'd lived. And +I've failed. Why, only last night she went to bed hungry." There +followed a moment of tense silence, then the man went on dully, in a +tone that implied yielding. "I suppose I may know all the circumstances +that led up to--this." + +Cornelius Allendyce proceeded to tell everything from the day of his +interview with Madame to the moment of his consternation upon +discovering that Gordon Forsyth was a girl and not a boy. He repeated +word for word Robin's and his conspiring; he described their flight and +Robin's break down in his library. + +"She had not lost courage--oh, no. But she was thinking of you. She was +afraid you'd forget to take your hot milk at night or something like +that," he finished simply. + +There were other details for the lawyer to explain to James Forsyth, +having to do with allowances and schooling. Then, when everything had +been said that was necessary to be said, James Forsyth rose wearily. + +"If that's all, I'd like it if you two would leave me here--alone." He +held out his hand to Mr. Allendyce. "Understand, if she's not happy--" + +"Our agreement ends." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FORSYTH HEIR + + +Harkness' mother had once lived in an English duke's family and Harkness +had been brought up on stories of the ceremonious life there. Therefore +he considered it quite fitting that he should take upon himself the +planning for the reception of the Forsyth heir. + +"I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave waited," he grumbled to +Mrs. Budge. "To 'ave the poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seem +right. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do everything--'" + +"Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just come down from dusting +the "boy's" room. The familiar "clutter," as she had always called it, +had roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face was streaked now +and red. "'Pears to me most you do is talk--and talk big. It's Harkness +this and Harkness that! To be sure _my_ mother was a plain New England +woman--" + +"Now, Budge, now, Budge," interrupted Harkness, consolingly. "No one as +I know is going to dispute that your mother was a plain New England +woman. And we're not going to quarrel at such a rememberable moment, not +we. And we're going to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting a +Forsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the door--you must stand +at the head of the long line of servants--" + +"Long line of servants! And where do you expect to get them, I'd like to +know? Things have been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since the +gloom came. And that new piece from the village ain't worth her salt's +far as work goes." + +Poor Harkness had to recognize the truth of what Budge said. Since the +"gloom" things _had_ been going at sixes and sevens--inexperienced help +called up from the village to fill any need. He was not to be daunted, +however; there were the gardener and the undergardener and the chauffeur +and the stableman and they had wives who might be induced to put on +their Sunday clothes and join in the ceremonial--all in all, they could +make a fair showing. + +Into the plans for the dinner Mrs. Budge threw herself with her whole +heart. There must be young turkey and cranberry sauce, and a tasty salad +and a good old New England pumpkin pie, which she would make herself, +and ice cream and little cakes with colored frosting--oh, Budge knew +what a boy liked. + +And Harkness would brighten the great dark hall with bitter-sweet and +deck the gloomy rooms with flowers--he knew what was proper for the +coming of the heir of the House of Forsyth. + +"Like as not," Budge said, "'twill be the end to this curse." + +So the two old retainers, their hearts full of hope for a new happiness +over Gray Manor, labored until the old house shone and bloomed for the +coming of Gordon Forsyth. And a few minutes before the hour of arrival, +the gardener and the undergardener and the stableman and their wives +came in, breathless with importance; Chloe, the old colored cook, +appeared in a brand new turban and 'kerchief. Mrs. Budge, her gray hair +brushed back tighter than ever, donned her black silk which she had not +worn since young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and took her place at +the head of the line just a foot or two behind Harkness who, of course, +had the honor of opening the door. + +Mrs. Budge, however, watched the service door at the end of the long +hall with fretful eyes. "That piece," she confided to Harkness, the +moment not being so important as to still her grumbling, "said she +wouldn't come in. And when I told her she could just choose t'wixt this +and the door she said she wouldn't dress up, anyways. Impertinent chit! +Thinks she's too good for the place. Things _have_ gone to sixes and +sevens--" + +Harkness was holding his watch in his hand. And just as he shut it with +a significant click, a tall dark-haired girl in a plain gingham dress +slipped into the room and took her place at the end of the line, at the +same moment casting a defiant glance at the knot which adorned the back +of Mrs. Budge's head. + +Above the low murmur of voices came the throb of a motor. + +"It's him!" cried Harkness, a catch in his voice. Mrs. Budge shut her +eyes tight from sheer nervousness. There was a visible straightening and +a rustling of the line. Then Harkness threw the door open and bent low. + +On the threshold stood a small girl; her eyes, under the fringe of red +hair, wide with excitement, frightened. + +Harkness had opened his lips for his little speech of welcome but the +first sound died with a cackle in his throat, leaving his mouth agape. +He stared at the little creature and beyond her at Cornelius Allendyce, +who was superintending the unloading of several bags and boxes. + +Where was Gordon Forsyth? + +Turning, Mr. Allendyce, at one glance, took in the situation. He bustled +up the steps, and thrust a bag in Harkness' limp hand. + +"Well, we're here!" he cried cheerily, ignoring the amazement and +disappointment that fairly tingled in the air. "And a fine welcome +you're giving us!" He turned to Robin, who stood rooted to the +threshold. "My dear, these people have served the Forsyths faithfully +and for a long time. Harkness, this is Gordon Forsyth. Mrs. Budge--" + +He drew aside to let Robin enter. And Robin, conscious of startled, +curious eyes upon her, limped into her new home. Harkness, because he +had to do something, closed the door slowly behind her. + +"I'm sure--we were expecting--" he mumbled. + +Mr. Allendyce imperiously waved off whatever Harkness was expecting. + +"We hope, Mrs. Budge, you are prepared for two hungry people. We lunched +very early and the ride here is always tiresome. In Madame's absence, I +am sure you will take care of Miss Gordon and--me." There was the finest +inflection on the "miss." "I shall stay a day or two. Robin, my dear, +this is your new home." + +Robin had been biting her lips to keep them steady. There was something +so terrible in the great hall, the broad stair that lost itself in a +cavern of darkness above, the brilliant lights, the staring faces. Her +eyes swept from Mrs. Budge's stony face down the line and crossed the +curious glance of the dark-haired girl in the gingham dress. Robin's +brightened, for the girl was young, but the girl flushed a dark red, +tossed her head and stalked through the narrow service door out of the +room. + +Robin turned to Cornelius Allendyce and clung to his arm. He seemed the +one nice friendly thing in the whole place. And, as though he knew how +she felt, he patted her hand in a way that seemed to say, "Courage, my +dear." + +Mrs. Budge recovered her tongue. "She'll not be wanting the young +_master's_ room," she said crisply. "Madame's orders--" + +"I would suggest that Miss Gordon decide for herself what room she will +have." The lawyer's voice carried a rebuke that was not lost upon the +housekeeper. "Harkness, carry the bags upstairs and Miss Gordon and I +will follow." + +So Harkness' reception line broke up; the gardener and the undergardener +and their wives following Mrs. Budge's stiff back out through the +service door while Harkness led Robin and her new guardian up the broad +stairway. + +In the kitchen, for very want of strength, Mrs. Budge flopped into a +chair. + +"Sixes and sevens!" she gasped. "I'll say that things _are_ just going +to sixes and sevens. I've always distrusted all lawyer-men and this one +ain't a bit different. Bringing a _girl_ here, and a cripple. Did you +ever hear the like?" She looked from one to the other of Harkness' +retainers and answered herself with the same breath. "You never did. +Don't know when I've been so flabbergasted. Mebbe she's a Forsyth but +she ain't a worth-while Forsyth. She ain't. As if a girl could step into +our boy's shoes." She sniffed audibly. "She don't take in Hannah Budge." + +When Harkness appeared there was a fresh outburst and a reiteration that +Hannah Budge "wasn't going to be taken in by a piece no bigger'n a pint +of cider." + +"Well, the girl's here--and hungry," Harkness retorted with meaning +abruptness. + +A sense of duty never failed to spur poor Budge. She rose, now, quickly. +"Humph, like as not with everything else going to sixes and sevens that +old Chloe's forgot her turkey," and with a heavy sigh that fairly +rattled the stiff silk on her bosom she went off in search of the cook. + +Robin found much difficulty in choosing her room for they all seemed +equally lovely in the perfection of their furnishings. She had stood for +a moment in the door of the south room that had been Christopher the +Third's. "Here's where they'd have put you if you were a boy," her new +guardian had told her. In spite of Mrs. Budge's efforts at cleaning and +dusting, a melancholy hung over the room and about all the boyish things +there was such a sense of waiting that Robin was glad to turn away. +Finally she decided upon a west room the windows of which overlooked the +valley and the hills beyond. + +"Oh, wouldn't Jimmie love that?" she had cried, lingering in one of the +windows. "He loves hills, and doesn't that river look like a silver +ribbon tying the brown fields?" + +The bedroom opened on one side into a sitting room with a bay window, on +the other into a tiny bathroom, shining and gleaming with nickel and +tile. + +"Oh, everything's _lovely_," and Robin ecstatically clasped her hands. +"Only what'll I ever do with everything so big!" + +Cornelius Allendyce laughed at her dismay. To be sure he had not spent +his life in such tiny quarters as the bird cage and he could not +understand the girl's state of mind. + +"My dear, after a little everything will seem quite natural. And +remember--everything is at your command. This is your home. You are +Gordon Forsyth. You will not have time to be lonely." + +Robin's serious face suddenly broke into a bright smile. She patted the +garland of roses which held back the silk hangings. + +"I just had the funniest feeling, as if I were not me at all but all of +a sudden someone else. Ever since I was a very little girl I've often +played that I lived a make-believe story--I make it like all the fairy +stories jumbled together. And I fit all the people I know into the +different characters. Jimmie lets me play it because I am alone so much +and it keeps me happy. Sometimes he even plays it with me. It makes +horrid things seem nice. And Jimmie never wanted me to know the boys and +girls at school--because I'm lame, I guess--so I always pretended things +about them and gave them names. You should have seen Bluebeard." She +laughed at the recollection. "And now I'm going on playing. I'm the +little beggar-maid who awakens to find her self in the castle. Do you +suppose there's a fairy godmother somewhere? And--a prince?" + +And Cornelius Allendyce who had never read a fairy story in his life, +let alone acted one, laughed with her. + +"Yes, this is another chapter in your story." + +"Oh, and don't you wish we could just peek to the end and see how it all +turns out? But that isn't fair. And we couldn't--anyway." + +Her new guardian shook his head. "No, we couldn't--anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BERYL + + +A bell tinkling somewhere in the house wakened Robin the next morning. +Through the flowered chintz curtains of her window the sun shone with a +warmth out of all keeping with the time of the year, throwing such a +joyous glow about everything in the room that she rubbed her eyes to be +sure she was not dreaming. + +The evening before, everything had seemed so strange that Robin had not +been able to take in small things; now an immense curiosity to explore +Gray Manor, and the grounds that were like Central Park, and the little +town, and the hills around it, seized her. She slipped her feet out of +bed and into the satin slippers which had been one of Miss Effie's +purchases. She dressed with feverish haste, rebuking herself for having +slept so late, for her new wrist watch told her it was after ten +o'clock. + +Ten o'clock--why, on Patchin Place the morning was almost over at that +hour, the streets about thundering with the work of the day. And here it +was as still as night, or as--a church on a weekday, Robin thought. + +Dressed, she opened the door of her room very quietly and peeped +curiously out. And there in the wide hall, dusting an old highboy, was +the girl with the dark hair. + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Robin, delighted at the encounter. + +The girl stared for a moment. She was tall and thin; her eyes so +intensely blue as to look black and startling in their contrast to the +whiteness of her skin. They were brooding, smoldering eyes and a too +frequent scowl was making tiny lines between the straight black +eyebrows. + +"Isn't this the wonderfulest morning?" Robin advanced, stepping nearer. +"What is your name? I'm Robin--I mean Gordon Forsyth." + +"I know that. My name's Beryl but I guess it doesn't make much +difference to you what I'm called. The man who came with you's waiting +downstairs." + +In spite of this rebuff Robin lingered for a moment, hopeful of a +pleasanter word. But the girl Beryl shouldered her duster and marched +off, head high. + +"I'm going to find out more about her right off," determined Robin as +she went in search of her guardian. + +The big rooms below, like her own room, looked very different in the +morning light, even cheery. Mr. Allendyce greeted her with a smile and +Harkness' "Good-morning, Miss Gordon," had pleasant warmth. It was fun +to sit in the high-backed chair before the shining silver and the +flowers and to choose between grapefruit and frosted orange juice. So +fascinated was Robin that she forgot for the time, her interest in the +girl she had encountered upstairs. + +"Well, what do you think of Gray Manor in daylight?" asked Mr. Allendyce +as the two walked into the library. + +"Oh, it's more like a great castle than ever. But it isn't--half as bad +as I thought it was." When Robin caught the amused twinkle in her +guardian's eye she added hastily: "I mean, it isn't gloomy and sad at +all. It's so beautiful--and I love beautiful things." + +Mr. Allendyce thought suddenly that it was the first time for a long +time _he_ had seen these rooms when they had not seemed overhung with +melancholy. But he checked any expression of the thought; instead he +took Robin on a tour through the library and drawing rooms, pointing out +to her the treasures which had been brought from every corner of the +world. There were rare tapestries and bronzes, and tiny ivory carvings +and tables inlaid with bright jade and old crystal candelabra, and +quaint chests and wonderful paintings and rare old books. As he told the +story of each, Cornelius Allendyce marvelled at the girl's quick +appreciation and intelligent interest. Her Jimmie had evidently gathered +travelled people about him and Robin had been always a sharp listener. + +Then Harkness interrupted their pleasant occupation by appealing to +Robin for "his orders" with such a comical solemnity that Robin had +difficulty suppressing a nervous giggle. Her guardian came to her rescue +with the suggestion that they drive about the town and the mills, have +an early tea and an early dinner and dispense with luncheon. + +"Must I tell him every day just what I want?" thought Robin, in dismay. + +The girl's active imagination could well picture the imposing motor +which came to the door as a coach-and-four, resplendent with regal +trappings. And, cuddled in the wolf-skin robes, flying over the frosty +roads which wound through the hills, it was very easy to feel like a +princess from one of her own stories. + +Only the mills spoiled her lovely day. The evening before they had +loomed obscurely and interestingly but in broad daylight they were ugly. +The great chimneys belched black smoke into the beautiful blue of the +sky; the monotonous drone of many machines jarred the hillside quiet. +Everything was so dusty and dirty--even the tiny houses where the men +lived. Robin, brought up though she had been in Patchin Place, turned in +disgust from the dreary ugliness about her. + +"Does it have to be like that?" she asked her guardian. + +"Like what?" + +"Oh--dirty. And so dreary. And noisy." + +Her guardian laughed. "I'm afraid it does. Work is mostly always +drab--like that. And you see it has grown like a giant. There--there's +the giant for your fairy story, my dear. And giants are usually ugly, +aren't they?" + +"Yes, always." Robin spoke with conviction. As they rode on she looked +back over her shoulder. "I'm glad we can't stop today. This ride has +been so lovely that I'd hate to spoil it by--seeing the Giant up close." + +"Giants are very powerful. And usually very rich." Cornelius Allendyce +enjoyed the fancy. + +"Yes--and they crush and kill, too." + +"But didn't a Jack climb something or other and overcome one of them in +his lair?" + +At this Robin laughed and then forgot, for the time being, the mills and +the dirty houses; when Mr. Allendyce hoped Mrs. Budge would give them a +very big tea party, she realized she was hungrier than she had ever been +before. + +So full had been each moment of her first day at Gray Manor that it was +not until she sat curled in the big divan before the library fire, a +book of colored plates of Italian gardens across her lap that she +thought of her determination to know more of the girl who had called +herself Beryl. + +Harkness stood at the long table putting it in order. Harkness seemed +always moving things about just so as to put them back in place again. + +"Mr. Harkness." + +"Yes, Miss Gordon." + +"Do I know everybody here?" + +"Why--I'm sure--What do you mean, Miss Gordon?" + +"I saw a young girl last night. And I met her in the hall today. Who's +she?" + +"That's a person from the village, Miss Gordon. I don't know as I've +heard her name. Budge mostly calls her a piece. I don't think Budge is +satisfied with her." + +"You mean she works here?" + +"Yes, Miss Gordon. At least now. She helps Budge. Budge is getting on, +you see. I don't know as I've heard the miss' name. Is there anything +more, Miss Gordon?" + +Harkness had a warm heart under his faded livery and it went out now to +Robin because she looked very small and very much alone in the big room. +He had heard Mrs. Budge's hostile sputter and he knew the lawyer man was +going the next day; little Miss Gordon would be quite without friends at +Gray Manor. So he stepped closer to the divan and in a very human, +friendly way he added: "Excuse me if I'm so bold as to say, you just +count on old Harkness if you want anything, missy." + +Robin caught the kindliness in the man's voice. "Oh, thank you, Mr. +Harkness. I'll be so glad to have you for a friend. And won't you +please call me Robin? You see everyone who's ever liked me real well +called me that and it'll make me feel homey here." + +"Well, just between _us_, Miss--Robin." And the old man went off with a +mysterious smile that even Budge's sour face could not dispel. + +The house was very still. Mr. Allendyce was in his room writing some +letters. The early dinner had been over for sometime. Robin wondered +what Beryl was doing now and where she was--probably upstairs somewhere. + +"I'll go and find her!" + +This was more easily said than done for Gray Manor had wiggly wings and +corridors turning in every direction and little stairs here and there so +that one first went up and then down and then up again. Robin had almost +given up her search and had just about decided she was lost, for turn +whichever way she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard the +harsh, scraping strains of a violin, vibrant with stormy feeling. + +"I'll find that and then maybe it'll be someone who can tell me how to +get back to the library," she thought, laughing silently at the +ridiculousness of being lost in a house, anyway. + +She traced the music to a turning which led into a narrow hallway. At +its end a door stood ajar and from it a light streamed. Robin +approached the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the music, +then stood still on its threshold in delighted amazement for the violin +player was the girl for whom she was seeking. + +At sight of Robin the girl flung the violin upon the bed. + +"Oh, please don't stop. May I come in? I was hunting for you." + +It was an absurdly small room as compared to the great rooms below, and +very bare. There was one chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, at +the same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said plainly: "What do you +want?" + +Robin ignored her unfriendliness. She sat down on the edge of the bed, +close to Beryl. + +"I'm awfully glad I found you," she ventured. "You see you're the only +other _young_ person in this house. Though I never had any chums like +most girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds and the flowers +and the Farri children made it--" Robin stopped suddenly, for Beryl was +staring at her with rude amusement. "I--I thought it would be so nice if +you--and I--could be--sort of chums," she managed to finish. + +Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its case +with an angry little slam. + +"I guess it _would_ be sort of," she mocked. + +"What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat furiously; it had taken all +the courage she could muster to force her advance upon this girl and +Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at Beryl's scornful laugh. + +"Why--we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl answered. "You're--Gordon +Forsyth. And I'm just Beryl Lynch." + +Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of understanding. + +"I don't see--" she began but Beryl would not let her go on. Beryl's +whole soul went out in resentment at what she suspected was +"patronizing." "Not me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, you +just _say_ you can't see. Why I'm like a servant here. Though I won't be +that way long with that old crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn't +want me to do it. But I wanted the money. And I'm going to stick it out, +much as I hate it--" + +Robin watched the other girl's stormy face in an ecstasy of delight. +Here was a creature different from anyone she had ever known; almost her +own age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which she longed to +possess and knew she did not; beautifully straight and tall. + +"I asked old Budge for the place. I heard she wanted someone to help her +and it was work anyone could do. Mother felt dreadfully--she said I'd +hate it. I don't mind the work but I hate--oh, feeling I'm not as good +as anyone here. When Mrs. Budge told me to put on a clean uniform--ugh, +how I hate those uniforms--and go down to the hall to meet you, I told +her I wouldn't. She 'most sent me off then and there." + +"You did go, though. I saw you," Robin broke in. + +"Oh, yes, I went but I wouldn't change my dress just to spite her. And I +was curious to see the boy they were all making such a fuss about. You +just ought to know how upset they were when _you_ came! Why, old Budge +talked as though it were a disgrace for a Forsyth to be a girl. I was +glad--because it fooled her." Beryl realized suddenly that she was +growing friendily confidential. She sharpened her tone. "_You'd_ better +go down before the old snoop catches you here." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," pleaded Robin. + +"Like what?" + +"Oh, as though we weren't--well just girls alike and couldn't be +friends. We might have such good times--" + +"You _are_ a funny little kid, aren't you? And you certainly don't know +how things are run in stiff houses like this. If old Budge could hear +you! I don't mind telling you that the old cat keeps saying she's going +to watch you to see if you act like a Forsyth. So you'd better not let +her hear you asking to be friends with me." + +Robin slowly rose to her feet, two bright spots of color flaming in her +cheeks. + +"Why, I'll--" Her anger died suddenly and a quaint little dignity fell +upon her. She straightened her slender figure and held her head very +high. "I am a Forsyth and I shall act just as I think a good Forsyth +should and not as Mrs. Budge thinks. And please don't think I'm the +least bit afraid of this Mrs. Budge." + +Beryl laughed so gleefully at Robin's defiance that Robin joined in with +her and the friendship for which she sought sprang into being--all +because of an unspoken alliance against the hostile housekeeper. + +"I'll go back now--if you'll show me the way." + +"They _ought_ to have signs at every turning." + +"Oh, what a funny thought!" And giggling, the two tiptoed through the +winding corridors and down the stairs which led to the second floor. + +"I'll see you tomorrow," whispered Robin at parting. + +"It won't do--you'll see it won't do!" warned Beryl. "I haven't been in +this house two whole days without knowing what it's like!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF + + +The coming of Percival Tubbs to Gray Manor added the one sweet drop to +poor Mrs. Budge's cup of bitterness. Though he brought vividly back +heartbreaking memories of young Chistopher the Third's school days, when +she had waited each day for the lad's boisterous charge upon the kitchen +after the "bite" which was his and her little secret, she hoped to find +in him an ally. _He_ would see how ridiculous it was to have a Forsyth +girl, anyway, and especially a girl who limped around the house like a +scared rabbit, afraid to ask for a crumb. If this Gordon had been a boy, +as they had planned, another comely, happy youth, why, she could have +soon learned to love him. But a girl--how would she look sitting at +Master Christopher's desk, in his chair! Something was all wrong +somewhere, but Percival Tubbs would find out and say what's what. + +With this hope strong in her breast she made excuse to go into the +Chinese room, for the Chinese room was only separated from the library +by heavy curtains through which voices could be easily overheard. And +Harkness had said the lawyer and the tutor were talking in the library. + +Robin's guardian had given much thought to this interview with the +tutor. Robin's fate worried him not a little. He had, in the few days, +grown very fond of Robin, and he hated to leave her with Harkness and +Budge and this Percival Tubbs, a poor sort of companionship where a +fifteen-year-old girl's happiness was concerned. + +"I must make Tubbs see that the child is different--" he was thinking +just as Mrs. Budge tiptoed into the Chinese room. + +"Miss Gordon is not like other children and you'll have to plan your +school work a little differently with her," he began, speaking slowly. +"She's bright enough and knows much more about some things than most +girls her age--and nothing at all about others. What I want you to do is +to go easy; easy, that's it. I rather imagine she's always taken a lot +on her own shoulders and I don't believe she's ever thought much of +herself. If you can develop a little assertiveness in her--she'll need +it, here--" + +"Yes. She'll need it here," echoed the tutor, because he thought he +ought to say something. He was a tall, lanky man whose shoulders sagged +as though something about them had broken under the strain of being +dignified; his face narrowed from an impressive dome of a forehead to a +straggling Van Dyke beard which he always stroked with the fingers of +his left hand. He was the old type of schoolmaster whom the rapid +forward stride of education had left far behind. His summons to Gray +Manor had come rather in the way of a life-saver and he did not intend +to allow the fact that the Forsyth heir had turned out to be a girl, +perturb him in the least. And so long as his rooms at the Manor were +comfortable, his food good and his salary certain, he could adapt +himself to any fool theory this lawyer guardian might care to advance. + +Mr. Allendyce stared hard at the other, his face wrinkled in his effort +to say the right thing. + +"Oh, let her have her head," he finished finally. And he liked that idea +so well that he repeated it. "Let her have her head. Do you understand +me? Never mind what's in the old schoolbooks. If she'd rather take a +walk than study Latin verbs, well, let her. I want her to be happy +here--happy, that's most important. You've heard of flowers that bloom +only in shelter and sunshine? This youngster isn't unlike--" + +"Well, I never! No, I _never!... I never!_" Mrs. Budge's gasp, rising in +a crescendo, almost betrayed her presence. She gave a pillow a mighty +jab. As though it were not bad enough to bring the girl to the house in +the first place without paying a man a fancy price to teach her to have +her own way! "Flowers! Humph! Old fools--" Unable to endure another word +in silence she stalked off to her own quarters. + +In the butler's pantry she found Beryl arranging real flowers in a +squatty Bristol glass bowl and humming gaily as she did so. Now Beryl +should have beep upstairs marking the new linen and she should not be +singing as though she owned the whole world. These two transgressions +and the sight of the bright blossoms in the girl's hand brought the +climax to the old woman's wrath. All Beryl's shortcomings tumbled off +her tongue in an incoherent flow of ill-temper. A stormy scene resulted +which left the old housekeeper spent and Beryl blazing with indignation. + +Consequently, when poor Robin, depressed from her first hour with the +tutor, trying not to feel that Gray Manor was going to be a prison +instead of a castle, sought out her new friend she found her throwing +her few possessions into a cheap suitcase that lay, opened, across her +narrow bed. + +"Oh, what are you doing?" cried Robin in alarm. + +"I'm going--that's what. She fired me." + +Robin's first thought upon awaking that morning had been of Beryl; she +had suffered the keenest impatience all through the trying morning, +longing to go in search of her new friend. She could not lose her +now--for a hundred Budges. + +"Oh, I won't let you go!" + +"A lot _you_ could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, tears very close. "I +just can't please the old thing. But I hate to go home." She sat down, +dolefully, on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to stay until I had earned +two hundred dollars." + +Two hundred dollars! That seemed such a very big amount of money to +Robin that she sat silent, thinking about it. + +Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head. "I s'pose that +doesn't mean much to you. But it does to me--'specially when I have to +earn it." Then, with a flash of temper: "What do you know about wanting +some one thing with all your whole heart and knowing just where you can +get it and not having the money?" + +Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out her troubles always +brought her a grain of comfort. + +"I've never had a thing in my life that I wanted," she finished. + +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry." + +"Sorry! Why, a lucky little thing like you are can't even know what I'm +talking about. That's why I said we couldn't be friends. _I've_ had to +work at home like a slave ever since I can remember. Pop's sick all the +time and cross, and poor mother looks so tired and tries to be so +cheerful and brave that your heart aches for her. And even when you're +poor, a girl wants things, pretty things and to do things like other +girls--and work as hard as you can you can't ever seem to reach them. I +get just sick of it. I thought--if I could get this money--" + +"Did you want it for your mother?" broke in Robin, sympathetically. + +Beryl's face flushed redder. "Well, not exactly. That's the way it +always is in books, but in life, when you're poor, it's each fellow for +himself and there's not any time for your grand sounding self-sacrifice. +I wanted it to buy a violin. That thing I've got's nothing but a cheap +old fiddle. And I can play--I _know_ I can play, or could if I could get +a good violin. I took lessons from an old Belgian who lived above us and +I played once for Martini at the theatre and he said--but what's the use +of caring? What's the use of _thinking_ about it? All a girl like me can +do is just want big things!" + +"Oh, Beryl," breathed Robin, a tremble on her lips. She wanted very much +to make Beryl understand that she was not the "lucky thing" Beryl +thought her; that she knew, too, what it was to want something and not +to have it, though perhaps she had not known it as cruelly as Beryl had, +for Jimmie had always contrived to cover their bleak moments with a +makeshift contentment. "Oh, Beryl, honestly I know just how you feel. I +wish I could help you. Maybe I can. My allowance seems awfully big and I +can't ever spend it all--" + +"Well, I'm not a beggar and I'm not hinting for your money," flared +Beryl. + +"I didn't mean--" Robin began, then faltered. Beryl had spoken with such +real anger that she was frightened. Beryl, turning back to her packing, +gathered up an armful of clothing on top of which lay an oblong bundle. +Its wrappings were old and loose so that as Beryl flounced her burden +toward the suitcase, the content of the package slipped out and down to +the floor. Robin stared in amazement for there lay a doll in faded satin +finery. + +With a short, ashamed laugh, Beryl picked it up. "_That_ old thing," she +exclaimed, in half-apology. + +Robin caught her arm. "Wait--oh, wait--let me see it!" + +"It's just an old doll I've kept." + +"It--it looks like my Cynthia. Oh, _please_ just let me look at it. It's +like a doll--I lost, once, ever so long ago." She examined the pretty +clothing. + +Now Beryl stared at Robin as though to find in her face a likeness to +the little girl who had deserted her doll. + +"Lost? And I found it in Sheridan Square. A little girl went off and +left it. I waited awhile, then I took the doll home." + +"Oh, how funny! How _funny_! It was me, Beryl. I'd been playing and Mr. +Tony called to me to hurry and I forgot--and you found it. Why, I cried +myself to sleep night after night thinking poor Cynthia was unhappy +somewhere." + +"And I called her my orphan doll and loved her because I thought she +missed her real mother--" + +"She was the loveliest dolly I ever had!" + +"She was the loveliest dolly I ever saw!" + +Both girls burst into a peal of laughter. They sat on the edge of the +bed, the doll between them, the packing forgotten. + +Robin clapped her hands. "And to think we find each other now. It's like +a story. I went back to the park all alone that evening and would have +been lost if it hadn't been for my--" she broke off short and flushed. +She was going to tell Beryl about her play-prince but then, Beryl might +laugh and she did not want that. + +Beryl's face suddenly grew grave as she smoothed out a fold of the +doll-garment. + +"I always kept the doll put away. I never played with it because--" She +hesitated a moment. "That night that I found the doll was a dreadful +night. I wasn't quite six but I'll always remember it. At first mother +and I were so happy, over finding the doll and because Pop had just +gotten a raise. It seemed as though everything were going to be +wonderful and we felt as rich as could be. We called the doll a lucky +doll. And mother dressed me up in her green beads that Father Murphy, +back in Ireland, had given her when she told him she was going to marry +Pop. And we had dumplings--ugh, I've hated dumplings ever since. And +then--" + +"What happened?" + +"They came for Mom, some man from the hospital. Pop had been terribly +hurt. And, well--nothing's been lucky since. It's just as I said; +mother's had to work and Dale's had to work and Pop just sits in a chair +and scolds and--well, I never wanted to take the doll out when mother +could see it--after all that." + +Robin made no effort to conceal how deeply Beryl's story had moved her. +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry. But maybe things will change. They'll have +to--Jimmie always said, it's a long lane that has no turning. I'm so +glad it was you who found my Cynthia. It might have been some one who +wouldn't have loved her at all." + +"I s'pose you ought to have her now." + +"Oh, no, no. She's yours. Anyway, that doesn't matter," and Robin added +triumphantly, "because we're really truly friends now, no matter what +you say. Cynthia has brought us together." + +Beryl shook her head. + +"That old crank--" she began. + +Robin stamped her foot in impatience. "I don't care a bit about Mrs. +Budge. My guardian told me that I could have anything I wanted here just +for the asking and he's made me the silliest big allowance that three +girls couldn't spend. Oh, I've a plan! Ought not a girl like me have a +companion? Don't they most always in books? You shall stay here at Gray +Manor as my--chum." + +Beryl still looked doubtful. "I'm too young--" + +"That's just why I want you. Oh, I just can't bear to think of my +guardian going away and leaving me here alone. You see I promised myself +that I'd be happy while Jimmie's having his chance--that's why I came, +you know. But this house is so big and so old and Mr. Harkness and Mrs. +Budge are so old that I know it's going to be hard not to think of +Jimmie and our lovely home and the birds. But if you'd stay it would be +easier. Oh, say you will, say you will." + +Beryl stared at Robin with a suspicious scrutiny. She firmly believed +that rich people never did anything except for themselves and Robin, no +doubt, was like all the others. Yet she was such a queer little thing +that perhaps she _was_ trying to be "nice" to her and make a soft place +for her. And Beryl would not allow _that_ for a moment. + +"You can study with me, too. That Mr. Tubbs isn't so very bad. And we'll +read together out of all those books in the library. And play--I never +had a real chum because Jimmie thought the girls and boys who went to +the school I did, might make fun of my being lame. Poor Jimmie, he +always minded my being lame much more than I did because he's an artist +and shivers when anything isn't perfect. You shall have a bed in my +room--there's ever so much space. Oh, say you will." + +Beryl frowned, uncertainly. "I don't want a penny I don't earn. But if I +can really _do_ things for you--" + +"Oh, of course you can, lots of things. But you shan't wear those +uniforms--for then you wouldn't be a girl like me. Oh, we'll have _such_ +fun. Let's take this stuff right down." + +It took the girls only a very little time to transfer Beryl's belongings +and to establish them in Robin's room, Beryl working mechanically, +unable to believe her good fortune. Then, at Robin's command, she +followed her while she went in search of her guardian. + +Cornelius Allendyce and Percival Tubbs, sitting in a blue cloud of cigar +smoke, were pleasantly discussing the pros and cons of the tariff +question upon which they agreed, when Robin interrupted them. + +"Please excuse me, but this is very important." Her breathlessness +startled the two men. "I've engaged Beryl to be my chum. I--I thought I +might be lonely here at Gray Manor. I want her to study with me, too. +And do everything. This is she." + +Cornelius Allendyce's mouth had dropped open from sheer amazement; +suddenly it broadened into a grin. Here was Miss Gordon taking her +"head" at once, without so much as one lesson. He glanced at Percival +Tubbs but that good gentleman was stroking his silky beard quite +indifferently. + +"I'd rather have Beryl than anyone else, 'cause she's almost my own age +and we like each other. Shall I tell Mrs. Budge or--" + +"Without so much as a by-your-leave!" murmured the guardian. He surveyed +Beryl; she seemed like a wholesome, spirited sort and the idea of a +little companion for Miss Gordon was not a bad one, not at all--strange +he hadn't thought of it. + +"Perhaps, Miss Gordon, you'd better tell her yourself. You must +begin--holding your own, my dear. Don't forget--ever, that you are a +Forsyth, and that name has great power over Hannah Budge." + +Robin did not stop to ponder what he meant or why a twinkle shone in his +eyes. She rang the bell as her guardian indicated, then waited with a +resolute squaring of her small chin, for Harkness' coming. + +"Please, Mr. Harkness, will you bring Mrs. Budge here? There's something +I want to tell you both." + +Mrs. Budge, as she hunted out a clean apron, grumbled at the unusual +summons. + +"The girl herself, you say?" she asked, as she followed Harkness to the +library. + +Her astonishment changed to white wrath when Robin, standing by her +guardian's chair, spoke. + +"I wanted to tell you that Beryl Lynch is going to stay here as my +companion. I'm going to give her half of my room so that I won't be +lonely and please set a place for her next to me at the table." + +Once again Cornelius Allendyce caught the twinkle in the butler's eye +which should not be in a Forsyth butler's eye at all. But there was no +twinkle about Mrs. Budge; her cheeks puffed in her effort to speak +without strangling. + +"If that piece--" she began, but she was quickly interrupted from every +side. Both Harkness and Cornelius Allendyce cried out, the one +pleadingly, the other in warning: "Careful, Mrs. Budge." Then Robin +stepped forward and slipped her hand through Beryl's arm. + +"Please, Mrs. Budge, I have made Beryl promise to stay. She didn't want +to but I begged her. And if anyone is unkind to her it's just the same +as being--unkind to me. That is all," she finished grandly, with an +imperious little motion of her hand that waved the irate woman from the +room before she knew she was moving. + +"Now you can't say as that wasn't like a Forsyth," asserted Harkness, +proudly, belowstairs. "If Missy wants a young lydy for a companion, +well, she's a right to the kind of young lydy she wants." But Budge had +escaped the reach of his voice. + +In the library Cornelius Allendyce was patting Robin on the head. + +"Well, you've won out in the first skirmish, my dear. But keep your +weapons at hand." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LYNCHS + + +The only thing that made the Lynch's cottage any different from the two +hundred others at the mills, was that it stood at the end of a dreary +row and therefore had a window on the side of its living room which +overlooked the hills and the river. + +This window was Moira Lynch's delight. Her poor, big Danny could sit in +it all day long. And from it she herself could watch the setting sun +flame over the crest of the hills and the narrow river shake off its +workaday dress and go racing into the shadows of the woods. Poor Moira, +years of heartbreaking work and worry had not changed her very much from +the girl who had liked to lie in the deep sweet grass of her dear +Ireland and let her fancy follow the winging birds into a land of +dreams. + +The other window of the tiny living room looked out directly upon the +muddy road, across to the freight tracks. + +It was to this window that Moira Lynch ran now, peering as far up the +road as she could see. + +"Beryl's late today," she said, with an anxious note. + +"Well, what if she is? Things don't run by the clock," Danny Lynch +answered testily. "You're always fussing. If it isn't the girl it's over +Dale." + +Mrs. Moira ignored the edge of crossness in her Danny's voice. She went +to him, smoothed the spotless cushion at his back and put a fresh +magazine on his table. + +"It's a silly, worryin' hen I am," she laughed. (But, oh, her laugh was +a tragic thing, for while her lips curved in a smile her eyes shadowed +at their mockery). + +"But things seem a bit different, today," she added, apologetically. + +And just as Danny Lynch's retort of derision died away Beryl burst upon +them. + +Her mother needed only to give her one look to know that something _was_ +different. + +"And what is it, my darlin'? It's that hungry I was getting to set my +eyes on you. Two hours late you are, Beryl." + +Beryl welcomed this reproach as it gave her an opportunity to impart her +good news in an impressive way. + +"I couldn't get away a minute sooner. I've a new position." She was +going to say "job" but it did not seem fitting. + +"What? Without so much as a word to your father and mother? And did the +likes of that old housekeeper fire you?" + +Beryl had no intention of telling of her ignominious fray with Mrs. +Budge. + +"I'm engaged to be a companion to Gordon Forsyth!" she answered, +grandly. + +At this Moira Lynch dropped a spoon with a loud clatter. + +"A companion to--that new boy who's come to the Manor?" + +Beryl, recognizing that her story needed detailed explanation, slipped +off her outer wraps, threw them into a chair, kissed her father lightly +on his cheek, perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to tell the +story of Gordon Forsyth's coming to Gray Manor while her mother listened +with breathless interest. + +"And it's a girl she is--a little lame girl!" + +"The queerest kid you ever saw. Not a bit snippy or rich acting. She +doesn't get at all excited over her new clothes and bossing those old +fogeys around and ordering her motor any minute she wants it. She thinks +the little place she lived in in New York is lots nicer than Gray Manor. +When you look at her you think she's a baby and then when she talks, +why--she seems older than I am! But she's funny like you, Mom; she's +always pretending things are different from what they are and giving +them names. She calls old Budge the wicked woman who wanted to eat the +two children," Beryl giggled. "And she calls the Mills a Giant." + +Moira Lynch's face beamed with joyous understanding. Here was a +fellow-soul, "funny" like herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for whom +black was always and invariably black, and a spade a spade. + +"Why, she even wanted to come down here with me," Beryl finished. + +There were so many questions trembling on Moira's tongue that, for the +moment, supper was neglected. Not long, however; the striking of the +clock reminded her that in a very few minutes Dale would be home, +hungry. Her mission in life, next to tending her big Danny, was feeding +her two children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite dessert, a +bread pudding, the eggs for which she had carefully hoarded during +several days' denial. Beryl, keeping up a running fire of talk, spread +the cloth on the centre table and brought the dishes from the cupboard. + +"By'n by, you'll be too fine for the rest of us," broke in big Danny +upon their chatter, the usual discordant tone in his voice. + +"Well, I guess it won't be your fault if I am," Beryl flared. +"Everything that I've gotten I've gotten for myself and I don't know of +anyone ever trying to help me." + +Like a flash the little mother was between the two, a soothing hand on +the father's shoulder. + +"Now don't you two be a-spoiling this night," she laughed a bit +hysterically. "Of course our girl's going to be too fine for anyone, but +it's always a-loving she'll be to her Dad and her Mommy." She declared +it with an ardent triumph. This mother who had once dreamed things for +herself dreamed them now for her boy and girl. From Beryl's infancy she +had taught her to want "fine things." And Beryl wanted them with all +her heart and, with youth's selfishness, wanted them for herself, alone. + +After her father's taunt, Beryl, with sullen resentment, locked her lips +on her other pleasant experiences. Nor would she tell now how Robin had +written to her guardian to send down a real violin for her to practice +upon, or what fun it was to study with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose ears +were distractingly like Brussels sprouts. And that she learned much, +much faster than Robin did! Poor Robin was always wondering the why of +everything. + +Her mother suddenly exclaimed: "It's Father Murphy's beads you shall +wear this night, my girl. Didn't the good soul, God rest him, give them +with his blessing? Watch the potatoes while I get them." + +Moira's beads had always played a significant part in her life. They +marked what she called her "blessings." Without doubt the rare bright +spots in her life shone like blessings for the dark of their background. +Years ago, when her Danny had had his accident and her world had seemed +to turn upside down until it rested, full-weight, upon her poor +shoulders, her "blessing" had been Miss Lewis at the settlement. Miss +Lewis had given her work so that she could earn money to feed her +family; Miss Lewis had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had found +cheaper lodgings and had helped her make them homelike. Another blessing +had been Jacques Henri, the old Belgian who lived above them and whose +violin had attracted Beryl as the magnet draws the iron. A lonely soul, +he had found sweet company in the child and had gladly helped the eager +fingers. Later he had come down to supper with them and Beryl had played +a "piece" for her Pop, wearing the beads in honor of the occasion. When +Beryl had graduated from the graded school she had stood as class +prophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, among them Dale and +herself--wearing the green beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy were +there to see her girl. + +She clasped them around the girl's neck now with fingers that trembled +and eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. During +the little ceremony Dale burst in like a gust of strong, sweet air. + +"Hullo, everybody! M'm'm, something smells good! What's for tonight, +Mom? Salt pork and thick gravy? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. How +goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and everyone in a rush, +from the savory supper to the invalid father whose face had brightened +at his coming. + +"What're you getting all dolled up for, Sis?" + +Beryl and her mother tried to tell the story at the same time. Dale did +not seem at all impressed and Beryl was disappointed. He said he had +heard in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a girl, and lame, +too. He didn't know what difference it made to any of them, anyway. He +scowled a little as he said it. + +Dale had his father's strong body and his mother's face of a dreamer; +his eyes were brooding like Beryl's but his mouth was wide and tender +and might have seemed weak but for the strength in the square cut jaw. + +Since that time, ten years back, when he had resolutely put behind him +his precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he had +been the recognized head of the family. As such he turned to Beryl now. + +"I suppose you'll let this rich little girl wipe her feet on you and +you'll love it," he said with such scorn that Beryl turned hot and cold +in speechless anger. + +"Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we know the poor little +thing," begged his mother. + +But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing the beads, all joy for the +moment had fled. She had particularly wanted to impress Dale with her +good fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak scathingly and +bitterly of the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness of +things in general, but she had paid little attention to it and could +not, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin. When he met Robin, he'd +understand--and while Dale ate ravenously and talked to his father +between mouthfuls, she planned how she would bring Robin to supper the +very next time she came home, despite her vow that she would never let +Robin see how humble and small her home was. + +After supper Beryl helped her mother clear away and Dale brought out his +"plaything" which was what he laughingly called the contrivance of +strings and spools and little wooden wheels he had made and which he and +his father "played with" each evening. Beryl had often wondered why Dale +seemed to care so much about it; why he spent hours and hours drawing +and figuring on bits of paper. Of course it amused the father, who, +during the day, cut the spools into tiny wheels, with a sharp +jack-knife; but it must be stupid for Dale to spend all of his evenings +over the silly thing. Beryl often lounged on the back of his chair and +listened to discover whether there was any part of the game she might +like. + +Tonight Dale's interest seemed forced. + +"If I could just find out what's needed _here_--" he growled, touching +the delicate contrivance. "That's the way! While I'm racking my poor old +nut, some other fellow's going to make the whole thing out!" + +Danny Lynch's big hand trembled where it lay on the table. "If I had had +the learning--" he began. "I could help, mebbe." + +Dale hastened to comfort him. "You don't get that stuff from books, +exactly, Pop. It comes here," touching his head. "If I only had the +money to have the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use of +talking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm thinking about it all the +time. Say, Mom, can I bring Adam Kraus over to supper some night? He +said he'd like to meet Pop and he's a good sort." + +This Adam Kraus had only recently come to the Mills. He had at first +impressed the neighborhood somewhat unfavorably, for he encouraged a +suggestion of mystery, lived at the Inn, kept aloof from everyone, and +seemed to have no family. Moira's own quick thought of him when Dale had +pointed him out on the road in front of the Mill store was that "he +looked too white for a working man." But he seemed to have singled Dale +out for his advances; Dale thought he was a good sort and had met him +more than half-way; Dale who had had to work too hard by day and study +at night to make any close friendships. Whether she liked him or not, he +should have the best she could offer. + +"_I'm_ going to bring Robin--I mean, Miss Forsyth, down here the next +time _I_ come," broke in Beryl. + +"And of course you can. And Dale shall bring his friend, too." + +"And you can wear your fine beads, Sis," finished Dale, teasingly. + +"And it's a nice pot roast and cabbage salad we'll have, too. And a bit +of the fruit cake with real butter sauce." Wasn't she going to get her +check soon from the store to which she sent her lace? + +So Beryl forgot her vexation and Dale his problem with his wooden toy in +pleasant anticipation of the "dinner party," as Mrs. Moira grandly +called it, out of respect to the pot roast and the fruit cake which Miss +Lewis had sent them and which was hidden away in a huge crock in the +shed. + +"Mom, can't I take the beads back with me? They're so pretty and I +haven't a thing that's nice," begged Beryl as the moment for her to +return to the Manor came. + +"The Princess and the Beggar-maid!" laughed Dale. + +"My fine lady must have her jewels!" added big Danny. + +Beryl flushed under their teasing but held her tongue, for didn't she +always have that picture blazed in her heart of the moment when with her +violin she would hold enthralled her unappreciative family and thousands +of others? _Then_ they would not laugh at her! + +"I'll be ever so careful of them and only wear them once in a while," +she promised. + +Though Mrs. Moira would, of course, have given her children anything +they wanted that was hers, she hesitated now, not from reluctance to +part with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent past +came the old father's words: "They are only beads. But they'll remind +you of this day." She had been seventeen then--a slip of a girl. Beryl +was almost sixteen now. + +"The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they are!" she laughed, with a +little catch in her voice. "Of course you shall take them." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS + + +"What'll we do today?" + +Beryl asked the question, turning from her post between the curtains of +Robin's sitting-room. Not in a tone of complaint did she speak, rather +as though weighing which pastime would be most worthy of the unexpected +holiday. + +For poor Percival Tubbs had "neuralgy" and could not leave his room; +Harkness had told them when he carried in their breakfast. + +"_This_ is just the kind of a day you'd like _something_ to happen," +Beryl went on, permitting a sigh to convey how much she would welcome +that something. "It's all gray and mysterious. The hills look awfully +far away. It's lonesomey." + +Robin looked anxiously to her companion. _She_ did not feel lonesome at +all. This room, where they ate their breakfast each morning at Harkness' +suggestion, was cosy and full of inviting books and pretty pictures and +comfy chairs; Harkness was ever so nice and concerned as to their +comfort, they were as secure from Mrs. Budge's hostility as thick walls +and Harkness' vigilance could make them and--best of all, a letter from +her Jimmie, full of Mr. Tony's plans and their contemplated sailing, lay +close to her heart. + +"What would you like most to do, Beryl?" + +"Oh, let's ask Williams to take us for a long ride--I adore going like +the wind," answered Beryl promptly. + +This suggestion appealed to Robin, who, although she didn't like to "go +like the wind," never tired of riding among the hills. She went +immediately with Beryl to find Williams, the chauffeur. Williams, like +the others around the Manor, with the exception of Mrs. Budge, had +fallen under Robin's spell and was enjoying the stir that her coming +brought to the old house. So he declared, now, that it would be a "nice +day for a run" and they could take the Cornwall road, because there was +a fellow in Cornwall he ought to see. + +Before the holiday fun could begin Beryl had her "duties" to perform. +These were tasks which she had set for herself so that she might not +feel for one moment that she was living on Robin's charity and were most +of them quite unnecessary and little things that Robin would really like +to do herself. However Beryl was too proudly intent upon saving her +pride to realize this and Robin, instinctively understanding, let her +have her way. + +Finally started, the girls snuggled close together in the car, holding +hands under the big robe. And, as they sped over the smooth road, each +let her thoughts take wings. Beryl's, with the honest self-centredness +that was characteristic of her, fluttered about herself. How she looked +in this peachy car--how she'd love to steer it and just step on the gas +and fly; some day, when she was famous, she'd have a car like this only +much bigger and painted yellow and she'd take Mom and Pop out and go +through the Mill neighborhood so that that gossipy Mrs. Whaley who had +called her "stuck-up" could see her. What she'd do in Robin's shoes, +anyway! Why, Robin didn't know what money meant, probably because Robin +had never wanted any one big thing, like she did. + +Robin, beside her, sat in cosy contentment--mainly because of her +precious letter. She drew a mental picture of her Jimmie, sailing away. +Then her thoughts came back to the gray hills and she wished her father +might see them at that moment, so as to paint them. He would love +Wassumsic, she knew--but, oh, he would hate the Mills. He would think, +as she did, that it was too bad they had built the Mill cottages between +the dingy buildings and the freight yards when they might have built +them where each window could have overlooked the climbing fields and +woods, where the children could have played in sweet grass the livelong +day and built beautiful snow forts when it was winter. + +Beryl suddenly broke the silence by a gleeful "Isn't this fun?" as +Williams coasted down a long grade with a breath-catching acceleration +of speed. + +The wind had whipped a fine color into the girls' cheeks, the changing +scenes about them were of untiring interest; they exclaimed delightedly +over each curve and hill in the road, each tiny hamlet through which +they passed. All too soon, they reached Cornwall and started on the +homeward way. + +At the top of a steep hill Williams slowed down to slip the gear into +second. In the valley below them was a collection of unpainted houses, +leaning towards one another as though for protection against the growing +things about them. + +"The Forgotten Village!" cried Robin. "Don't you feel just as though we +might tumble over into it?" + +"A good place to drive right _through_," Williams answered with a +scornful laugh. + +Alas, poor Williams--he brought the car skilfully and safely down the +difficult hill only to have it stop, with a reproachful snort, in the +very heart of the little village. + +"What's the matter?" asked the girls in one breath as Williams, with an +explosive exclamation, jumped from his seat. + +There was a moment of investigation, before the man replied. + +"No gas!". + +"Is _that_ all?" + +"All! I'll say that's enough--here. Don't look as though anyone'd know +what gas is in these parts. You sit in the car while I ask someone, Miss +Forsyth." + +"You wanted something to happen, Beryl," laughed Robin, as Williams +walked away. + +"Pooh! _This_ isn't much of an adventure. And I'm awfully hungry." + +Poor Williams returned with the word that he'd have to walk on to the +next town--unless he was lucky enough to meet someone who'd help him +out. He advised the girls waiting in the store. + +"There isn't even a telephone in this dump," he grumbled resentfully, +quite forgetting that he had only his own carelessness to blame for the +whole thing. + +Neither Robin nor Beryl had the slightest intention of waiting in the +funny little store where the crackers and tea and coffee looked as old +as the old man who came out from behind the counter at their approach. +They waited until Williams had disappeared, then went forth to explore +the Forgotten Village. Unabashed, they stared at the weather-beaten +houses, at the old woman, a faded shawl tied around her head, washing +clothes at a pump, at the hideous square of dingy brick which served as +school house and church, its window frames stuffed here and there with +rags, a pathetic sign upon which was printed "library," hanging crazily +by one nail. + +Beyond the church stood an old mill, its roof tumbled in. Exploring it +the girls heard the sound of tumbling water and discovered a stream +breaking its way through thick undergrowth. A lane, marked by two wagon +ruts, edged the course of the stream. + +"Let's see where this goes," suggested Beryl. + +Robin limped willingly after her. It was an alluring lane, even in +November, for the ghostly gray branches of old trees met and interlocked +close overhead, fir trees, mingling with the silver white trunks of +slender birches, walled it either side, a whirring of invisible wings +added to its apartness and the little stream, tumbling its way, sounded +like laughter. + +"Isn't this the loveliest spot? Wherever do you suppose it comes out?" +For the lane twisted and turned as it climbed. + +"Robin, there's a house!" + +Ahead of them the girls could see through the trees the outlines of a +low square house. And as they drew nearer, walking stealthily, they +stared in amazement. For, unlike its neighbors in the village below, +this house was as white as fresh white paint could make it, at the +windows hung crisply white curtains, a brass knocker dignified its broad +door. + +Robin, always imaginative, clutched Beryl's arm with a breathless +giggle. "Beryl, it's like the house of bread and cake with the window +panes of sugar. Do you suppose someone will call out: 'Tip-tap, tip-tap, +who raps on my door'?" + +"Sh-h! I'm hungry enough to eat the roof. Let's ask for a drink of water +so's to see the inside." + +Robin did not think it was just nice to deliberately intrude upon the +privacy of this shut-away house but Beryl, not waiting for her approval, +knocked boldly on the heavy old door. + +When the door swung open, however, and a beaked-nosed woman, absurdly +like the witch of the fairy story, confronted the girls, Beryl stood +tongue-tied and Robin had to come to the rescue. + +"Can we--if you please, we had an accident--I mean, we went for a +walk--oh, _may_ we have a drink of water?" she floundered, fairly +blinking before the sharply piercing eyes of the woman in the door. + +"Who is it, Brina?" came from within, whereupon the woman answered in +rapid German, her head turned backward over her shoulder, her hand still +on the doorknob. + +"Shame on you, Brina. They are two children--lost, perhaps. Let them +come in." + +The room was disappointingly like any other old country-house living +room; scrupulously clean and shining, a wide fireplace aglow with a wood +fire that cast bright splotches of color over the low walls, the faded +rag rugs, the piece-work cushions on the old wooden settle. + +Close to its warmth sat a white-haired woman, one long thin hand +supporting her head in such a way as to keep her face in a shadow. + +[Illustration: "IT'S LIKE THE HOUSE OF BREAD AND CAKE"] + +Robin explained their presence in the lane, incoherently, for there was +something frightening about the silent, composed figure and the +intentness with which those shadowed eyes scrutinized her. While Robin +talked, Beryl swiftly surveyed the room and its occupants, not least of +which was a great St. Bernard dog, that, after one "gr'f'f" leaned +against his mistress' chair and regarded the intruders with watchful +eyes as though to reserve advances, friendly or hostile. + +Her account finished, Robin smiled bravely back into the grave face, +with that enchanting tenderness which had won Cornelius Allendyce and +enticed him to strange deeds. + +The smile worked its spell at least on the dog for he moved slowly over +to her, lifted a big paw and placed it gravely upon her shoulder. + +"Cćsar declares you a friend," said the woman in a slow, low-pitched +voice. "He does not welcome many into our seclusion. Please sit down. +Brina, bring these young ladies a pitcher of milk and some cookies." + +Brina swung out of the room at her mistress' bidding. Robin, +uncomfortable but immensely curious and excited, sat on the edge of the +settle and chattered, while Beryl, well behind their silent hostess, +made mysterious signs with fingers and lips and eyes. + +"We think this is the loveliest spot--the old town and the mill and this +lane--and all. No one would ever dream from the road that this house was +here. Has it a name? First I called it the House of Bread and Cake and +Sugar--like the fairy story, but it ought to be called the House of +Rushing Waters, hadn't it?" + +"That will do--very nicely. No, no one would know from the road that the +house stands here." + +But when Robin ventured: "Aren't you ever lonely?" there was a +perceptible tightening of the lips that made her sorry she had asked it. + +"Robin, there's something funny about that whole place," declared Beryl, +half-an-hour later as they went back down the lane. "I was doing some +thinking while you were talking." + +"She's a dear old lady, Beryl. I feel sorry for her." + +"Oh, yes, dear enough. _I_ thought she was stand-offish. But you don't +think for a moment she belongs 'round here, in the same town with that +old cheese down at the store?" + +Robin admitted that everything about her House of Rushing Waters was +very different from the Forgotten Village. + +"Wasn't that Brina just like a witch with her parrot nose and sharp +eyes?" + +But Beryl had no patience just now with Robin's beloved fairy lore. Two +little lines wrinkled her brow. + +"There's something queer about that place or my name isn't Beryl Lynch. +And I like to know what's what. Wouldn't it be fun to find out what it +is? Whether she's hiding there on account of something or someone's +keeping her a prisoner? Maybe--" Beryl lowered her voice, "maybe she's +crazy." + +"Oh, Beryl, she didn't act a bit crazy. Just very sad. She was nice. I +thought the room was lovely, too--and the lunch and that darling dog." +Robin had thoroughly enjoyed the simple hospitality and meant to defend +it. + +"Of course the room was nice," Beryl felt that she showed much patience +with Robin's obtuseness, "but didn't you see anything _different_ in +that room? Books and magazines! Country people don't sit and read +magazines and knit on rose wool in the middle of the afternoon! Robin, +_that_ woman's a lady! And you notice she didn't tell us who she was. +And a woman with her talking some foreign jibberish." + +"Beryl, you're wonderful to notice all these things. I'd never have +noticed half of them." + +Beryl tossed her head with pride. "Nothing much escapes _me_," she +boasted. "And I think it was a good thing we didn't tell her just who +_we_ were. But let's not let a soul know about our finding this place +until we unravel the mystery." + +Robin hesitated. "She was so nice to us and it's really none of our +business why she's there or who she is--" she argued so staunchly that +Beryl put in hastily: "Well, let's just have it a secret because +secrets are such fun." And to that Robin agreed gladly, for secrets +_are_ fun and are always a strengthening bond in true friendship. + +"I won't tell a soul!" she promised. + +They found Williams waiting for them at the store, worried at their +disappearance and annoyed at the delay. He had walked many miles in +payment for his carelessness. + +As they rushed homeward, both girls thought of the house they had left +and its lonely occupant. + +"Wouldn't wonder a _bit_ if she might be some royalty person hiding here +from anarchists," whispered Beryl, with a burst of imagination, amazing +for her, tinged by a novel she had recently read. + +"Would we dare go again to see her?" + +"Of course we're going. Even if you don't, I want to find out who she is +and all about her." + +"_I'd_ just like to see her again and that darling dog. If she doesn't +want to tell us who she is I don't want her to! It's more fun to pretend +that her house is made of bread and cake and sugar." + +"Pooh!" was Beryl's impatient answer. + +And that evening, as though in defense of her suspicions she thrust a +newspaper under Robin's nose with an expressive "There, read _that_!" at +the same time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph. + +The paragraph told of the mysterious disappearance of its Dowager Queen +from the little warring Balkan kingdom of Altruria. + +"She could be in this country as well as not. I read a book once where a +Duke hid for five years right in the heart of New York and then met his +heir face to face on Broadway. Wouldn't it be fun if that old woman +_was_ this Dowager Queen?" + +"But, Beryl, she talked English. Wouldn't she talk--some other +language?" + +Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers don't. They talk ever so many +tongues. English as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You just +wait." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD + + +The following Wednesday had been set for Mrs. Lynch's dinner of "pot +roast and cabbage salad." + +"You'll think we're awfully poor, Robin, when you see that mean old +cottage," Beryl complained as the girls were dressing for the dinner. + +Robin, hesitating between a Madonna blue and a yellow dress, turned +quickly at the tone in Beryl's voice. + +"Oh, Beryl, what difference does your house make! I want to know your +mother and your father and--Dale." + +"Well, there's no use your dressing up--it'll just make everything else +there look absurdly shabby." + +Robin laid the garment she held down upon the bed. A puzzled look +darkened the glow in her eyes. There were a great many times when she +found it difficult to understand Beryl's changing moods. She herself was +too indifferent to clothes to know that it was the two pretty gowns she +had brought out from her wardrobe that had now sent Beryl into the +dumps. + +"I won't dress up, Beryl. I just thought your mother would like to have +me--out of respect to her party. I didn't think you wouldn't like it. +But if you think I'm going down there to stare around at the things in +the house and pick to pieces the dishes and the food--you're wrong, +Beryl. I think your mother must be a wonderful woman and I am just crazy +to meet her and I know I'm going to love your father and I never talked +to a boy in my whole life except in school when I had to! There!" Robin +stopped for very lack of breath. + +This unexpected show of spirit, so unlike Robin's usual gentleness, took +Beryl back. Fond as she was of her mother she had never thought of her +as exactly "wonderful" or of anyone wanting to know her, or her poor, +crippled father, or Dale. She laughed a little shamefacedly. + +"Oh, wear what you want to, Robin. I suppose I'm jealous because I +haven't anything except that old gray thing that's just tottering with +age. What a joke to call Dale a boy! Why, he's never been a boy, because +he's worked so hard for everything." + +"Well, I'm glad I'm going to meet him, anyway." Robin spoke with +excitement. It did not matter at all what she wore--without a moment's +hesitation she put away the blue and the yellow dress and brought forth +the mouse colored jersey she had worn when she arrived at Gray +Manor--she was going to meet Beryl's family. Robin, who had never had +any family except "Jimmie," imagined beautiful things of family life, +mostly colored by books she had read and pictures she had seen. Brothers +were always big strong fellows who sometimes teased their younger +sisters but were always ready with a helping hand; fathers--well, she +knew about fathers, having had Jimmie, but Beryl's father must be very +different because of his accident. It was "Mom" that she most wanted to +know. She hoped Beryl's mother would kiss her. At the thought her heart +gave a quick little beat. + +When Percival Tubbs, to whom Harkness, uncertain as to the propriety of +a Forsyth dining at one of the Mill cottages had appealed, had mildly +endeavored to point out to Robin that this dinner-party was not exactly +"fitting," Robin had simply not been able to understand and had answered +so honestly: "Why, just because I'm a Forsyth doesn't make me a bit +better than those people who work in the Mills, does it?" That Mr. Tubbs +had abandoned his point with a mental reservation not unlike Mrs. +Budge's beloved: "Things _are_ going to sixes and sevens." + +And below stairs the loyal Harkness, putting off his own doubt, had met +Mrs. Budge's scorn of the whole "goings-on" with a grand defense of his +little mistress: "Some lydies in 'igh places distribute their bounty in +baskets but if Miss Gordon sees fit to carry 'ers in her pretty little +'eart, I don't say it's for us to be a thinking it isn't the 'appier +way," and Budge knew he was very much in earnest because he forgot his +h's, a little trick of speech he had long ago overcome. + +For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress, Beryl brought forth +her green beads. Robin exclaimed over them, taking them out of Beryl's +hand to hold them to the light. + +"Oh, they are lovely, Beryl, see the deep glow! They're like the sea. +You ought to be proud of them." + +"They're just some beads an old priest gave mother when she was a girl," +Beryl explained, making her voice indifferent. She loved Robin's +enthusiasm but half-suspected it might be "put on" in order to make up +to her for the things she did not have. "They do look nice on this +dress, though, don't they?" She laid them against her neck and stared +with satisfaction at the reflection in the long mirror. + +The Lynch cottage, in honor of the occasion, sparkled with orderliness. +Mrs. Moira looked very gay in a pretty foulard she had made over from +two of Miss Lewis' old dresses; her fluttering hands alone betrayed her +nervousness and her fears that though the most tempting smells came from +the stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little Miss Forsyth +and for Dale's new friend, too. + +However, when Robin came into the room with Beryl she looked so +appealingly small that Mrs. Lynch promptly forgot she was a Forsyth and +that the dinner might not be good enough and put her arms around her and +kissed her. And Robin with an impulsive movement snuggled closer to the +warm embrace. + +"Why, it's a mite of a thing you are," cried Mrs. Moira with the singing +note in her voice that always came when she was deeply moved. "And +hungry, I hope. Well, Dale will be here in a moment and then we'll dish +up." + +Then everything was just like Robin had hoped it would be. Beryl's +mother called them "children" and let them help her with the finishing +touches of the dinner. Beryl's father smiled at her and patted her hand. +She did not see the little room with Beryl's eyes, its limited space +into which so much had to be crowded, the cracked shade on the lamp, the +dingy carpeting that held together through some kind miracle, she only +thought it cosy and homey; she liked the queer old clock and the blue +bowl filled with artificial jonquils and the crocheted "tidies" with +dogs designed in intricate stitches. + +"Here's Dale!" whispered Beryl. "I'm crazy to meet his friend. I'm going +to sit next to him at the table, see if I don't." + +In the excitement of Dale's arrival and of introducing the strange "Mr. +Kraus" no one noticed Robin for a moment, or that she stared at Dale +with round, puzzled eyes. Had she ever seen him before? When Beryl +turned suddenly and said: "Dale, this is Gordon Forsyth," she hoped he +would say: "Why, I know her." However, he merely mumbled "How do you +do," stiffly, and turned away, to Beryl's indignation and Robin's vague +disappointment. + +The pot roast and the cabbage salad were as delicious as Mrs. Moira's +loving pains could make them; Dale's friend talked mostly to big Danny +and Mrs. Moira listened and Dale occasionally put in a word. Over her +plate Robin watched first one and then another, her eyes invariably +coming back to Dale's face. Beryl, annoyed that no one noticed her and +Robin and treated them "as though they were just children," ate +ravenously, in dignified silence. + +The talk centered about the Mills. Adam Kraus freely ridiculed the +Forsyth methods. "They're miles behind the times," he declared and +compared them glibly with other similar industries. "Old Norris belongs +to the has-beens. Look at the machinery he uses--all right in its day, +of course. But if a fellow went to him with some new kind of a loom, +would he look at it? Not he! The old's good enough." + +"Hear that, Pop?" put in Dale, exchanging a meaning glance with his +father. + +"And look at the way they house the mill hands here, putting a fellow +like Dale with his cleanness and his brains and his possibilities, into +a dump like this. They don't recognize the human element in industries +of this sort or what it's worth to them. Why, there's no argument any +more as to the increased efficiency from giving better living +conditions--but I'll bet Norris hasn't heard of it." + +"We haven't been here long enough to know--" Mrs. Lynch began gently but +Dale interrupted her, his voice rough. + +"It isn't Norris alone, Adam. You've got to go further up--it's the +House of Forsyth. They're feudal lords--or like to think they are. Do +you suppose it mattered much up there, when the little Castle girl had +her arm crushed in that old wheel last month and died because her body +wasn't nourished enough to stand under the amputation? A lot they +cared--just one bit of machinery gone for a day--another--" + +"_Dale_--" cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed embarrassment, and suddenly +everyone looked at Robin. + +Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and Dale with deep interest. It +was not until Mrs. Lynch exclaimed and all eyes turned in her direction +that she connected what they were saying with her own self. Under Dale's +sudden scrutiny she flushed. + +"I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth." But this was so far from +an apology that Mrs. Lynch looked more distressed than before and Beryl +glared at her brother. + +"Oh, _please_ don't mind me," begged Robin. _She_ was glad Dale did not +say he was sorry for what he had been saying; she wanted to know more. +She wanted to tell them that _she_ called the Mills a Giant and that she +hated them and that Cornelius Allendyce had told her she should look for +a Jack who could climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of the +stranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell me all about +the--the Castle girl?" + +"There isn't much to tell about her that's different from ninety-nine +other cases. She was supporting a younger brother and sister. The +brother's only twelve years old but he had to go to work--said he was +sixteen. The kid sister helps the grandmother as much as she can." + +"Do they live in one of these houses?" + +"In the old village. They're cheaper, you see. The boy can't earn as +much as Sarah Castle did and they had to move up the river." + +"Could I go to see them--sometime?" + +Mrs. Lynch answered for Dale. "Of course you can, dearie. And I'll go +with you. It's from my own county they say the grandmother comes and +likely she'll know some of the old people." + +"Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep pools reflecting +starlight. "I'd like to know _everyone_ here in the village and what +they do. Perhaps the--the other Forsyths wanted to really know the Mill +people, too, only they--they've been so unhappy. But I'm different, you +see--I'm a girl and so sort of--little." + +"Bless the warm little heart of her--defending her own," thought Mrs. +Lynch, and Dale, his face softening until it was boyish, smiled and +said: "You _are_ a little thing, aren't you?" + +At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin with such suddenness +that a breathless "oh" escaped her parted lips. A dark night and lonely +streets, a chill wind cutting her face, an iron fence enclosing a +deserted triangle of dead grass and filthy papers--a kind voice telling +her not to cry--of course, her Prince! She peeped almost fearfully at +Dale who was joking with Beryl. _He_ did not know--he had forgotten, of +course. He had been a big boy, then, and he had not gone on playing the +little game the way she had. How wonderful, how _very_ wonderful, to +find him. And Beryl's brother! She did not mind at all what he had said +about the Forsyth's. If he said it, it must be true. She would find out. + +Mrs. Lynch, beaming over her simple dinner, little knew that Destiny sat +at her board, shaping, moulding, gathering and weaving the threads of +life, golden and drab. + +To Beryl's disgust, after the meal Dale brought forth his "toy." But +Adam Kraus, instead of showing the boredom which Beryl expected, studied +it with absorbed keenness, quickly grasping what Dale wanted to do. + +"Have you ever shown this to Morris?" he asked Dale. + +Dale shook his head. "No use to do it now--until I've worked the thing +out to perfection. And I can't do that--without money." + +Robin, wiping plates for Mrs. Lynch, caught Dale's words and Adam Kraus' +answer. + +"I wonder if Norris would see what an invention like that--if you can +make it do what you say you can--would be worth to these mills. It would +lift them out of the boneyard of antiquity and put them fifty years +ahead of their competitors. Why, I'll bet Granger's would give you a +cool twenty thousand for that just as it stands. It would serve Norris +right, too." + +Dale's face flushed with excitement. "Do you really think all that, +Adam? Pop and I've gotten so down in the dumps trying to work the thing +out that we've lost our sense of values." + +"Inventors never have any," laughed Kraus, with a change in his voice. +And he commenced hastily to talk of other things, to Dale's +disappointment. + +Robin pulled timidly at Dale's arm. + +"Who's Grangers?" + +"Grangers? Don't you know the big mills up at South Falls?" + +"Would they--if they took--that--you'd go there--" She tried desperately +to voice the fear that had shaped in her heart; Grangers taking this +funny wooden thing that Mr. Kraus said was worth so much, and Dale going +away from Wassumsic, and Dale's mother--and Beryl. + +"You just bet I would," and Dale laughed. "But don't worry, we won't be +going for a while." + +Robin had so much to think about that night that she could not go to +sleep. She did not want to go to sleep. Up to this day she had been +just little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin," at Gray Manor to let Jimmie +have his chance; happy, because Jimmie was having his chance and Beryl +was with her and Beryl was unfailingly interesting. + +Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just "anything." A Forsyth +ought to care about those awful Mills, that were in some sort of a +"boneyard," and about the people who worked in them--especially poor +Sarah Castle's brother and sister. And there were probably many other +boys and girls. She'd ask Mrs. Lynch--or Dale. + +Beryl stirred and Robin ventured to speak. + +"Beryl, are you awake? If Mr. Norris bought that invention of your +brother's, would it make things easier for--the Mill people?" + +Beryl jerked herself up on her elbow. + +"Red-Robin Forsyth, are you crazy? Fussing over that absurd toy of +Dale's at this hour? Why should _you_ care?" Beryl sank back into her +pillows and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most glorious eyes?" + +Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, I hated his eyes. They +were not true eyes. But--I like Dale--lots." And just here, for the +second time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for Dale must +never know that she remembered him; all that belonged to her childhood. +Beryl might laugh, too, as she often did at her "fancies," and call her +"funny." + +Thinking of Dale brought her thoughts back to the Mills so that while +Beryl snuggled her sleepy head back into her pillow, she stared at the +thin shaft of light that shone under the door and wished she was big +instead of "a little bit of a thing" and very wise so that she would +know what to do to show these people in Wassumsic that she--a Forsyth, +_did_ care. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ROBIN WRITES A LETTER + + +Cornelius Allendyce had returned to New York from Gray Manor with his +mind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. His +associates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him and +they often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling +himself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far from +fields of law. + +Cornelius Allendyce _did_ feel pleased with himself. How many men would +have dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it had +all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest," living in her past, +her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little +Robin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned out +so surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking, +in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not want +to--he liked to think it all over. + +Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human race +of which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were all +alike--pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves like +kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He knew absolutely nothing of +the fearless, honest, open-air girls, with hearts and souls as straight +and clean as their healthy young bodies or that there were legions like +little Robin and Beryl who, because they had been cheated of much that +went to the making of these others, stood as a type apart. He only +thought--as he went over the whole thing--that Robin's Jimmie was to +blame for her being "different," leaving her alone so much and letting +her take responsibilities way over her head; now she would enjoy the +girlish pleasures that were her due. His sister Effie had supplied her +with everything in the way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want; +Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs would go light with +the school work--he had certainly made a point of _that_, and, when he +could run up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little companion +Robin had adopted. If she were not all that she ought to be (Miss Effie +had somewhat disturbed him on this point) why, a change could be made; +someone a little older and more cultured (Miss Effie's word) could be +sent up from New York. + +Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, enjoyed at intervals in his +work, Robin's letter, written a few days after her dinner at Mrs. +Lynch's, fell like a bomb. + + "DEAR GUARDIAN," she had begun, + + I am ever so sorry I haven't written for so long, but I haven't + had a minute, really, truly. There are so many things to look at + and to do. I am beginning to really love Gray Manor--it is so + always and always beautiful. Mr. Harkness is a dear and is very + good and tells me what to do many times when I am stupid and do not + see for myself--like the finger-bowls. Jimmie and I never used + finger-bowls. I don't mind the school work, though I simply can't + keep up with Beryl. When you come up, I will tell you how wonderful + Beryl is and all about her family. Her mother had a lovely dinner + one night and Beryl took me. Beryl is going to be a great + violinist, you know, and she is saving money to buy a real violin + that will be all her own and take lessons. She will not let me do a + thing to help her, which is splendid--I mean, for her to be so + proud and brave, though I wish she would let me do just a little. + + We have some very good times together, mostly taking lovely rides + back in the hills to places Harkness tells us about and once we + took our lunch and Mr. Tubbs and Harkness went, though Mr. Tubbs + had dreadful neuralgia afterwards. Beryl and I read every evening. + I love the books. I think I've been hungry for them all my life and + didn't know it. We're playing a game to see which of us can read + the most. We can play forever because one day we counted the books + in the library and there are one thousand and seventy four and + Harkness says there are more in Christopher the Third's room. + Harkness has been telling us all about him and he showed us his + picture--you know, the one in the Dragon's sitting-room (I + apologize, in Aunt Mathilde's room) and he looked like a young + prince, didn't he? How will Aunt Mathilde ever reconcile herself to + a little insignificant, lame thing like me when she sees me? + + Oh, I wish I could really _truly_ meet my good Fairy somewhere--the + one who forgot to attend my birth--and she'd give me one wish, I'd + just ask for one. And that wish would be to G-R-O-W. I never cared + before but now I want to be BIG. Oh, and wise! Mr. Tubbs will tell + you how stupid I am. A Forsyth ought to be big and wise. You see, + before this I have never thought of myself as a real true + Forsyth--I've always just been Jimmie's daughter. But lately I've + been thinking a lot about what a Forsyth ought to be and there are + about a million questions I'd like to ask: + + 1. Ought Mr. Norris to let the Mills sink into a boneyard of + antiquity? + + 2. What is the very most money I could spend all in one lump and + can I spend it without telling anyone about it beforehand? + + 3. There's an empty cottage just below where the Manor road crosses + the river and Williams says the Forsyths own it. Can Beryl and I + use it for a club? + + Thinking of the questions makes me forget the other nine hundred + ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven, (I did that on + paper) but please come to Gray Manor soon so that I can ask the + rest. + + Your loving Red-Robin. + + P.S. The violin came and thanks ever and ever so much though Beryl + says she will not call it hers for one little minute. But she most + cried over it she loves it so and she makes the most beautiful + music with it. I am dreadfully jealous because she won't even + listen to a word I say now. She says she's living in the clouds. + It's wonderful to have a big dream, isn't it? But I am starting one + which I'll tell you when it's big enough." + +Mr. Allendyce read the letter three times, stopping at intervals to +polish his glasses as though they must be at fault. "What does this +mean?" he exclaimed over and over. "What's up?" + +Why on earth was Robin worrying her little head over the Mills and +talking so absurdly about a boneyard? And why did she want more money? +And who were these people with whom she had dined? And what did she and +Beryl want with a club when they had all Gray Manor to play in? + +Not able to answer any of these disturbing questions the poor man sought +out Miss Effie--who, having been a girl, once, herself, ought to know +something of the vagaries of a girl's mind. + +Miss Effie felt very proud that her brother cared anything for her +opinion. She nodded wisely and smiled reassuringly. + +"Girl notions--that's all. Don't worry over the foibles of growing +girls. It's one thing today and something else tomorrow." + +The guardian was not so easily reassured. "But Robin isn't like other +girls--" he began, with a disturbing recollection of Robin's +highhandedness in engaging a companion. + +"Tush! Bosh!" Miss Effie would not let him go on. "Girls are all alike +under their skins. This poor kiddie's been starved for nice things and +her sudden good fortune's gone to her head. She doesn't know the value +of money, either; what'd seem big to her would be carfare for you. Give +her more to do. And she ought to know some young folks." + +Now Cornelius Allendyce beamed fondly upon his sister. She _had_ +comforted him. Of course, Robin's subconscious self was reaching out to +touch the lives of others. In spite of their uncertain living she and +Jimmie were of a sociable sort--he ought not to have expected that she +would be content in Gray Manor with no outside interests. + +"Couldn't that tutor get up a party?" + +"That's a good idea, sister. I'll write to Tubbs. Probably the county's +expecting something of the sort, anyway. I suppose it ought to be rather +simple--she's so young and Madame Forsyth being away. I'll raise the +child's allowance, too--let her spend it if she can, bless her heart." + +His mind once more quite at ease, Cornelius Allendyce put Robin's letter +into his pocket. He would write to her the next day and to Percival +Tubbs. He ought to have consulted his sister sooner. Well, a guardian +learned something new every day, he told himself, with a smile. + + * * * * * + +No one had suspected the torment of thought that racked poor Robin's +head for the few days following the dinner-party. She had arisen that +next morning with the firm resolve to "be" a Forsyth, but she did not +know just what she ought to do first and there was no one to tell her. +Beryl was no more sympathetic than she had been the night before and had +answered her persistent questioning absentmindedly. However, +unknowingly, she did give two helpful hints, upon which Robin seized +gratefully. + +"Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have is a clubhouse like Miss +Lewis' place in New York. Mother took care of that, you know. Miss Lewis +is a wonder. She always declared children need fun just the way they +need milk and _she_ fixed it so that they got both." + +"Oh, yes, there are ever so many boys and girls in Wassumsic only +they're mostly working in the Mills. I'd have to work there myself only +I've made Dale believe that I can do something--else. If I ever started +in the old Mills I'd be like the others. That's the way--you begin and +then you never know how to do anything different." + +"I'm glad you're not there. I'm like--Dale. I know you'll be a wonderful +violinist some day!" Robin never failed to say what Beryl wanted. + +Beryl tossed her head. "I could have just settled down into a drudge, +working all day and too tired at night to care what I did and saving +just enough out of my pay envelope to buy me a hair-net but I wouldn't +begin! I wouldn't! They can all call me proud and lazy but I'll show +them--old Henri Jacques and Martini himself said I would! But I've had +to fight to make people believe me--and I s'pose I'll have to go on +fighting." To the egotism of sixteen years these words sounded very +grand; it stirred Beryl to think she had fought for every advantage that +was hers, to read the admiration in Robin's eyes. She had no thought of +disloyalty in claiming the credit that really belonged to the little +mother who had dreamed the dream first for her girl and then, through +years of work and self-denial, had lived for that dream to come true. + +After the arrival of the violin Beryl promptly lost herself in a trance +of rapture that left Robin to her own pursuits. Only once the quite +human thought flashed to her mind that Beryl might be a little bit +interested in what _she_ wanted to do but she put it away as unworthy +for, she told herself, Beryl, destined one day to stand on a pedestal, +could not be expected to bother with such every-day things as planning +"fun" for the Mill children. + +So Robin left Beryl with her beloved instrument and went alone to talk +to Mrs. Lynch who was so startled at her unexpected coming that she +kissed her and called her "little Robin" before she realized what she +was doing. That, and the fact that she found Mrs. Lynch working in the +shed where big Danny could not hear them, made it much easier for Robin +to talk and talk she did, so rapidly and so imploringly that Mrs. Moira +had to interject more than once: "Now wait a bit, dearie. What was that +again?" + +Robin wanted to know about how many Mill children there were. + +"Oh, bless the heart of you, it's no one but the doctor himself can tell +you that! They slip in and out of the world as quiet like. But Mrs. +Whaley says the school's so full that her Tommy can only go +afternoons." + +Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy brick building as the +schoolhouse. It had a play-yard enclosed on three sides with a high +board fence, disfigured by much scrawling. It had seemed an ugly spot. +She thought of that now. + +"And what do the girls--the girls like me--do?" + +"Oh, they mostly work. After work? Well, they help at home and do a bit +of sewing maybe and some have beaux and they walk down to the drug store +and hang around there visiting, though Beryl doesn't. 'Tisn't much of a +life a girl in a place like this has," and Mrs. Moira's sigh was happily +reminiscent of her own girlhood in open clean spaces, "it's old they +grow before their time." + +"They don't have much fun, do they?" Robin asked. + +Mrs. Lynch looked at her curiously. "Fun? They work so hard that they +haven't the gumption to start the fun. But it's so big the world is, +Miss Robin, that it can't all be rosy. Sure, there has to be some dark +corners." + +"Mrs. Lynch, if--if--someone started the fun for the girls--would they +like it?" + +"Why, what's on your mind, dearie? The likes of you worryin' your little +head over things you don't know anything about!" + +Robin could have cried with vexation. She _must_ make Mrs. Lynch +understand her--Mrs. Lynch was her one hope. She gave a little stamp of +her foot as she burst out: "I'm little but that's no reason I can't +think of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that the Forsyth's didn't care +and they ought to care--and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone in +the Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they do. And I want +them to have--fun. Beryl said your Miss Lewis said everyone ought to +have fun. I--I don't know just how to begin--but I'm going to." + +Mrs. Moira patted her hand. To herself she was saying: "The blessed +heart of her, she doesn't even know what she's talking about, poor +lamb," but aloud: "That you shall and if I can help you, I will." + +Robin's eyes glowed. "Oh, _thank_ you. You don't know how hard it is for +me to think just what to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head and +then I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about them--I just +have to feel them. I'd like to begin with the little children. If my +guardian says we may, can't we open that old cottage down by the bridge +and make it into a--a sort of play-house? There could be a play-yard and +next spring we could make gardens and we could fix one room up with +pretty pictures and have books and games--and a fireplace and +window-seats. Oh, _does_ that sound silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasm +to an abrupt, imploring finish. + +"Dearie me--no." There were no reserves in Mrs. Moira's approval. With +an imagination as quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage--it was a +charming old house, snuggled under elms, half-covered in summer with +rambling vines and pink blossoms--alive with romping, happy-voiced +children, some poring over pretty picture-books, others listening to a +story, some working in a garden--some just tumbling about on the soft +grass in a pure exuberance of youthful joy. + +"We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always think of names before +anything else. And maybe, some day, the older girls--girls like me--will +use it, too. I'd like to begin by knowing little Susy Castle." + +Mrs. Lynch promised to take her the next day to the old village where +Susy lived. + +"I'll come down right after our school work is over. Beryl won't mind +because she'll want to practice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tell +Dale, will you?" + +Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already she had been looking forward to +telling Dale about Robin and her plans. But Robin stood firm. + +"You see I may spoil everything and he'd think I was just stupid. I +don't want him to know--yet." + +Robin walked back to the Manor with a light heart. Her world that had +always seemed so small, bounded on its every side by Jimmie, now +suddenly assumed limitless proportions and beautiful possibilities. +There was so much to be done and so much to think about. Tomorrow she +would see Susy Castle; maybe other boys and girls. + +Lights were twinkling from some of the windows of the Manor. Robin +paused for a moment at the bottom of the long ascent to "love" the Manor +in its purple cloak of gathering dusk. That first Forsyth who had broken +ground for this gray pile had chosen well; the hill upon which the house +had been built stood apart from the other hills, loftily commanding the +village and valley. + +"It looks just like a grand old lady holding off her skirts so's not to +touch anything," Robin thought, now, whimsically. + +As though to crown her day's progress toward "being" a Forsyth, Robin +found a letter from her guardian awaiting her. Cornelius Allendyce had +written it keeping in mind his sister's advice not to notice a girl's +"foibles"--"it's one thing today and another tomorrow." + + "... I am delighted that you are happy and finding so much to + occupy your time. Do not worry about your lessons. Not all + knowledge is confined within the covers of school books. (He had + read that somewhere and thought it came in very pat, now.) How + about some sort of a party. You ought to know the people of the + country before the winter sets in. Think it over and decide what + you want. I will double your allowance if you haven't enough. If + you need a club to make you happy, help yourself. Don't worry + about the Mills--let Norris do that. I'll run up to Wassumsic very + soon and answer as many questions as you may wish to ask. Until + then, I am + + Devotedly yours, + CORNELIUS ALLENDYCE." + +"Beryl--read this! I may use that old cottage. I believe my guardian'll +do everything I ask when he understands. He's a _dear_!" + +Beryl came slowly down from her "clouds." + +"Robin--listen to _this_ vibrato!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SUSY CASTLE + + +The Forsyth Mills had built Wassumsic--in truth, Wassumsic _was_ the +Forsyth's Mills. It had had its beginning in that first small mill where +the first Forsyth worked in his shirt-sleeves; a cluster of houses had +sprung up close to the river, a store, more houses, more stores, a +tavern, a church, a school. And as the Mills grew, so grew the village. +For themselves the Forsyth family had built the stone house on the hill, +that looked, indeed, like a grand old woman holding off her skirts from +contamination. And that lofty apartness had always been the attitude of +the Forsyth family to the workaday life in the village. + +The growth of the village had been toward the railroad so that the first +Mill houses had been left by themselves "up the river" and were commonly +known as the "old village." They were so old that they were not worth +keeping in repair and so close to the river that they were damp the year +round and for these very good reasons were offered to the mill workers +at a low rental. Many of the mill workers--such as Dale--looked upon +them as a disgrace to the Mills and felt a hot anger in their hearts +when they thought of them--but unfortunates like the Castles were glad +to move into the worst of them. + +The short walk from the Mills to the old village skirted the river and +was overhung with a double row of willows which, on this wintry day, +cast long purple shadows. Robin, walking along it with Mrs. Lynch, +thought it lovely and solemn--like a cathedral aisle. But when they +stopped before a low cottage, one window nailed across with boards where +the panes were missing, the front door propped in place by a rotting +rail tie, tin cans and frozen refuse littering the strip of yard, and +Mrs. Lynch said "This is the house," she wanted to cry out in protest at +the ugliness. They had to pick their way around to a back door upon +which Mrs. Lynch knocked. Several moments elapsed before the door swung +back a little way, a round black eye peered at them cautiously, and a +shrill voice piped "whachy'want?" + +"I s'pose that's Susy," thought Robin, her heart skipping a beat with a +terror of shyness. + +Mrs. Lynch's pleasant: "We want to see Granny," admitted them. Robin, +blinded for the first moment of coming into the darkness of the room +from the bright sunshine outside, stumbled over a chair and in her +confusion mumbled some incoherent answer to the shrill cackle of welcome +that came from the shrunken bit of humanity bending over a small stove. + +"Poor Granny doesn't understand who you are," explained Mrs. Lynch, in +an apologetic whisper, touching her head significantly. "Come here, +Susy," and she motioned the staring child to her. Susy approached with +the hang-back step of a child or a dog not always certain of what he may +get but Mrs. Lynch magically produced a round cookie, fat with currants, +and Susy sprang at her with a quick leap. + +The room was heavy with stale air and bare of any comforts. A tattered +First Reader lay on the greasy floor, unwashed dishes cluttered the bare +pine table, on every available shelf and in every corner were piled old +cans and bottles and half-filled paper bags. On a what-not in the corner +a faded bunch of pink paper roses drooped over a cracked vase. The +wallpaper, its ugly pattern mercifully faded, was fantastically streaked +from the dampness, in one corner the ceiling plaster had fallen and +newspapers had been tacked over the laths to keep out the cold. + +A sickening revulsion, a longing to escape into the sweet crisp air +swept Robin. She shrank away into a corner for fear the dreadful old +Granny might touch her. But she _must_ say something! She had come here +for a purpose--to know Susy. + +At that moment Susy's voice pealed out in a merry, piping laugh--because +she had put her small finger into her cookie and pulled out a fat round +currant! And something in the laugh touched the spark to the mothering +instinct strong in Robin's young heart--the mothering instinct that had +caused her bitter anguish over Cynthia's loss, that had taught her how +to care for her Jimmie, and had given her strength to run away from her +Jimmie that he might have his "chance." She forgot the dirty +surroundings, the old Granny in her rags and her crown of wispy gray +hair, she saw only the child's face, lightened with joy, and laughed +with Susy as Susy held out the currant on the end of an uplifted--and +very dirty--finger. + +The ice broken, Susy made friends quickly. She leaned her thin little +self against Robin's knee and stared with rapture into Robin's face. +Like Granny she could not seem to realize that Robin was a Forsyth; to +her she was "a big girl" and big girls did not come to the house now +that Sarah had died. She timidly touched Robin's soft coat sleeve with a +rough, sticky hand and poked at the bright buttons of Robin's blouse, +her eyes round with wonder. + +Afterward, after Robin and Mrs. Lynch had, with some difficulty, broken +away from Susy's clinging and Granny's childish lamentations, and were +walking back through the "cathedral aisle" Robin gave herself a little +shake as though to rouse herself from some nightmare. + +"Oh, Mrs. Lynch, it's dreadful!" + +"What, dearie?" Mrs. Lynch had been thinking that Granny Castle couldn't +be one of the Castle's of her old-country county. + +"That place. Are they all like that? How can they live?" + +Mrs. Lynch hesitated a moment and there was a perceptible tightening of +her tender lips. + +"Well, dearie, people _have_ to live--life goes on in spite of things. +Maybe poor old Granny wishes real often it'd been her that had been +taken instead of that poor Sarah. Things weren't so bad for them when +Sarah lived--they say. She was an up-and-doing girl and kept things nice +though she had to work hard to do it, poor little thing. It's in the +hospital that old woman should be with some one to wait on her and keep +her warm. No one but little Susy--" + +"I forgot all I'd planned to say! Susy looked so cold, Mrs. Lynch. I +hated my nice warm clothes." + +"Oh, Susy was warm enough. She's a bright child, she is. When she's a +bit older things will ease up." + +Robin remembered what Beryl had said of the girls in Wassumsic having +nothing else to do but go into the Mills. Susy would grow older and take +Sarah's place. But what if she didn't want to? What happened to the "big +girls" who didn't want to go into the Mills? Robin could hear Beryl's +contemptuous: "Why they haven't a chance in the world." Well, anyway, +someone could make the Mills so nice that the girls would _want_ to work +in them. "I wish I were big!" cried Robin with such passion that Mrs. +Lynch, not knowing her train of thought, had a sudden qualm at taking a +sensitive little thing like Miss Robin to poor old Granny Castle's. + +"Now, dearie, don't you worry. Things come out somehow--in the next +world maybe for the Granny Castles, but they do. Now that idea of yours +of fixing that cottage--" + +"Oh, I forgot to tell you! My guardian says I may. At least he said that +if I wanted a club, to help myself, and that must mean he consents. He's +a dear. Have you time to go there with me now and just peek into it? I'm +sure we can get in." + +"I'll take the time," cried Mrs. Moira with an interest as eager as +Robin's. "I'll just drop in and tell my Danny when we go past--it's so +lonesome he gets when I'm slow coming." + +Robin's House of Laughter looked a little deserted standing alone in the +shadow of the hillside, gaunt branches creaking over its low roof, the +ends of the trailing vines whipping restlessly against the gray +clapboards. But Robin and Mrs. Lynch saw it as they wanted it to +be--neatly painted, its windows curtained, its yard trimmed, its +doorstep dignified by a broad inviting step, and flanked by a trellis +for the rambling rose vine. The door opened for them in the most +promising way and they tiptoed into a big bare room with two windows at +one end looking out over the hills and river. + +"Isn't this nice?" cried Robin in delighted staccato. "It's just made +for what we want. Look--a fireplace!" To be sure, it was nothing more +than a gap in the wall. "And these darling windows. We can put a seat +way across, all comfy." She promptly saw, in her mind, Susy curled upon +it with a beautiful picture book and a handful of cookies. "Oh, let's +see the rest. Look, a cunning kitchen. The children can play cooking. +And this room--what can we use this room for?" + +Mrs. Lynch was thinking rapidly. Because of her experience with Miss +Lewis she saw possibilities way beyond Robin's eager planning--class +rooms where the older girls could learn other trades--a domestic science +class in the kitchen for the mothers--a sewing room, a library full of +instructive and entertaining books, and the big living room where the +children could gather after school hours, and the men and women and big +boys and girls in the evening. And a playground outside--and gardens. + +"Can't we fix it up right away?" Robin's eager questioning brought her +sharply out of her dream to a practical realization that all the House +of Laughter had as endowment was an unselfish girl's enthusiasm. + +"Harkness will help if I ask him and maybe Williams, too. And Mrs. +Williams." + +"It's quite tidy for standing empty so long," mused Mrs. Lynch, sweeping +the bare rooms with an appraising eye. "That stove's good as new under +the rust." + +"Oh, you _will_ help, won't you? I can't do anything without you." + +"That I will, Miss Robin." Mrs. Moira promised with no thought of the +added tax it must be on her energy. "It's a beginning everything has to +have and you get your Harkness man and some brooms and some soap and +we'll have your little House of Laughter ready to begin in no time." + +A half hour later Robin burst upon Beryl absorbed in her practicing. + +"Oh, _please_ listen," she cried and without waiting for encouragement +poured out her precious plans. Beryl obediently listened but with an odd +surprise tugging at her attentiveness--this Robin seemed different, full +of a fire that was quite new, and all over fixing up that old place for +the Mill kids. To Beryl, wrapped in her own precious ambition, that +seemed a ridiculous waste of energy. However she concealed her scorn, +affected a lively interest and put in a few helpful suggestions. + +"Mr. Tubbs has been hunting for you," she suddenly informed Robin. "I +heard him talking to Harkness about a party. Your guardian's written to +him, I guess." + +"Oh, _dear_!" cried Robin, in dismay. She remembered what Mr. Allendyce +had written to her. A party would be terrible! + +"I should think you'd think it was fun--and with all your pretty +clothes. It's exciting meeting people, too. If _I_ were you--" + +Beryl simply wouldn't finish--there were so many things she would do if +she were Gordon Forsyth, she could not begin to name them. + +Robin's doleful face betrayed her state of mind. + +"What will I have to do?" + +"That depends upon what kind of a party it is." Beryl felt flattered +that Robin should appeal to her. "And I should think you'd have the say. +_I_ certainly would. Receptions are stiff and dinners aren't much fun. I +think a dance--" + +"But I can't dance. And I never went to a young party in my life!" + +"Well, you're Gordon Forsyth, now, and you'll have to do lots of things +you never did before," reminded Beryl, a comical sternness edging her +voice. + +An hour before, in her empty House of Laughter, poor Robin had thrilled +at the thought of "being" a Forsyth; now, alas, her heart sank to her +boots under the weight of these new obligations she must face. Nor was +she cheered when Mr. Tubbs found her and laid his plans before her. Mr. +Tubbs, short of memory, always carried his thoughts on neat little slips +of paper over-written with memoranda. He fluttered some of these now +before Robin's eyes and Robin saw that they contained lists of names. + +"A party--your guardian is quite right--we were remiss--of course Madame +would have wished--in the old days--it must be at least an at-home--yes, +an at-home--I have found the cards of the best people of the county in +Madame's desk--Harkness will know who of them have died--yes, an +at-home, say from four to seven--Mr. Allendyce and his sister will come +to help you receive--I will talk to Budge--yes--" Mr. Tubbs rarely +finished a sentence. He always spoke as though he were thinking +memoranda aloud, and punctuated his words with little tugs at his silky +Van Dyke beard. + +Robin had a rebellious impulse to snatch the fluttering lists from his +long fingers and tear the "best people of the county" into tiny bits but +she remembered what Beryl had said about a Forsyth having to do many +things, smothered a sigh, and said meekly: "I don't know much about +parties." + +"My dear young lady, experience will teach you. They are important--yes, +for one of your station--important as your books. I will see +Budge--about the date--yes." + +"Old grandmother!" cried Beryl, as Mr. Tubbs went off in search of the +housekeeper. "An at-home!" She mimicked his precise tones. "Of all the +tiresome things. He'll invite a lot of doddering old women who'll come +and look you over _this_ way!" Beryl lifted an imaginary lorgnette to +her eyes. "Why didn't you say you'd like a regular party and just have +young people--there's a boys' school only ten miles from here and it +would have been such fun. Of course I couldn't have come down but I +could watch you--" + +"Beryl Lynch, you _are_ coming down or I won't stir one foot. You shall +pick out one of my dresses and we'll make it longer or something. And I +think a party with boys I don't know would be lots more terrible than +an at-home. All I hope is that he makes the date soon so that it will be +over with." + +Percival Tubbs, inwardly much annoyed at having the peaceful routine of +his days at the Manor thus disturbed, was as anxious as Robin to have +the party over with. After due deliberation with Mrs. Budge he fixed the +date for a day two weeks ahead. Mrs. Budge insisted she needed that much +time to make "things look like anything." + +Budge and Harkness welcomed the party as a beginning of the "change" +they had prayed might come to Gray Manor. + +"It'll be some'at like old times," Harkness had declared. + +"That chit won't look like much," (poor Budge had not yet forgiven Robin +for being a girl) "but it'll make talk if she ain't shown. Talk enough +for Madame going away like she did. I've half a mind to get out the gold +plate. That old Mis' Crosswaithe from Sharon'll be over here the first +of any, peeking around and she ain't going to see how things are going +to sixes and sevens. No one else ain't either or my name ain't Hannah +Budge. It ain't." And Budge squared her shoulders as a challenge to an +inquisitive world. + +Harkness, while he anxiously watched the weather, grew loquacious over +the old times. "This house has known great parties, missy," he told +Robin. "The best lydies from miles 'round coming in their carriages. +The Crosswaithes, from Sharon, before old Mr. Crosswaithe died. And the +Cullens and the Grangers--she as was the daughter of a gov'nor. The +Manor was the finest place in the county and things were done right here +and as gay as could be." He launched forth on a long description of +Christopher the Third's eighteenth birthday party. "He come up from +school, missy, with his friends and the young lydies come from New York +and some from these parts and the house was as gay, what with flowers +and palms and music and their talk. And the young master's table was +laid in the conservatory--and the olders sat in the dining-room and Held +come from New York--the best caterer, missy--" + +Robin and Beryl listened with breathless interest--Robin with a moment's +vision of that handsome lad laughing and talking with the "young lydies +from New York." How dreadful, she thought, that only a few months after +that brilliant affair he should have been killed--he would have been +about twenty-four, now--and would have been such a splendid Forsyth, +while she was so small and insignificant. + +"These automobiles are all very well, missy, but if it snows--" and +Harkness scowled through the window at the darkening sky. + +"Do you mean, if it snows--no one will come?" + +"I'm not thinking that, missy, but not so many--the Grangers and their +young people." + +Robin refrained from saying she hoped it _would_ snow, for if Harkness +and Budge enjoyed fussing over the dreadful party she did not want to +spoil their anticipation. + +The entire house seemed ridiculously astir over the approaching event; +extra help came from the village, the air throbbed with the hum of +vacuum cleaners, chairs and tables were beaten with a frenzied +thoroughness, tables polished, everything dusted. Certainly, no one +_was_ going to see that things were going to sixes and sevens! + +Robin and Beryl busied themselves making over one of Robin's dresses for +Beryl, a process to which Beryl consented only after a stormy scene and +tears on Robin's part. + +Robin's plans for her House of Laughter had to be tucked away for the +time, and when she sighed now and then over her ripping and stitching it +was because she'd so much rather be making frilly, crispy curtains for +those little windows. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A GIFT TO THE QUEEN + + +By no means had the girls forgotten their Dowager Queen of Altruria. +They talked of her often; Beryl usually in a speculative vein. Had she +brought the court jewels with her? Did that dreadful Brina kneel on one +knee and kiss the hem of her garment? Did she ever wear her crown? + +Royalty meant much more to Beryl than it did to Robin, for Beryl +attached to it a personal interest. Would she not, as sure as anything, +sometime play before crowned heads by royal command? Sometimes, lying +wide-eyed in the dark, she pictured herself at such a moment, gorgeously +gowned, and delightfully disdainful of the bejeweled, becrowned, stately +kings and queens and little princelings, dukes and duchesses and earls +and countesses, all hanging on the exquisite notes she drew from her +strings. After she finished they would forget their crowns and things +and fall upon her in a sort of humble adoration. Beryl shivered +exquisitely, she could make the picture so very real! Now, when she +dreamed, the queens and duchesses looked like the mysterious mistress of +the house by the Rushing Water. + +Robin thought of their Dowager Queen of Altruria as perhaps being a +little lonely, sometimes. With everyone, now, watching the weather in +anxious dread of a snowstorm, it occurred to her that such a storm +would shut the little house near the Rushing Water off from the world. + +"Beryl, let's go and see our Dowager! It may be the last time we can +until Spring. I'd like to take her something, too. Something Christmasy. +Christmas is only two weeks off and think how dreadful to spend +Christmas all by yourself." + +Beryl thought both the visit and the gift a fine idea and set her wits +to working to contrive an offering suitable for one of the Dowager's +station in life. + +She suggested helping themselves to what the Manor had to offer, for, +certainly, Robin, being a Forsyth, had such a "right." + +"Flowers and fruit and maybe a book. It would never be missed and you +could take one of these that hasn't anything written in the front. See, +here's a collection of Dante's poems--it's as good as new. And who'd +ever want it with all these other books here?" + +Beryl's reasoning seemed logical and Robin put aside a tiny doubt she +had as to her right to "help herself" to even a very small volume. Some +day she could explain to her Aunt Mathilde that she had given it to a +nice old lady who lived all alone. + +The girls filled a huge basket with luscious fruit from Budge's +storehouse, and gay flowers from the conservatory, and concealed the +little book under the bright foliage. They decided, after much +deliberation, to let Williams into their secret, and show him their +offering, so that he would surely consent to drive them to Rushing +Waters. + +"We'll just about get it in before the snow comes," agreed Williams, +scanning the sky with that anxiety to which Robin had grown very +familiar. "A Queen, you say? Well, what do you think of that!" He +laughed uproariously. + +"We're not exactly _sure_, but we have our suspicions," corrected Beryl +in a freezing tone. + +"And please don't tell a soul because we really have no right to force +ourselves on her if she wants to hide away," begged Robin. + +Williams promised with a chuckle. "Funny kids," he said to himself, +enjoying, nevertheless, the adventure. "I'll do the sleuth stuff in the +corner store while you two are interviewing the Duchess--I beg pardon, +the Queen." + +The girls left Williams, as he suggested, at the little store, while +they, tugging their basket between them, found and followed the path by +the Rushing Water. It was as alluring as ever--berries still clung to +the undergrowth, gleaming red against the dark of the fir trees; the +dead leaves underfoot crackled softly as though protesting their +intrusion; there was a whirring of wings and always the rush of the +water. + +"I'd forgotten how spooky it was," cried Beryl, drawing in her breath. + +"I hope she won't be sorry we came." + +This time Robin knocked. As before, Brina opened the door a little way. +When she saw the two girls she scowled, but stepped backward, announcing +their presence in crisp German. + +The mistress of the house rose a little hastily from the table before +which she was sitting. She was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe of +soft velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and crossing over her +breast, where it was held in place by a brooch of flashing gems. At +sight of her visitors her face softened from haughty surprise to a +resigned amusement. Robin broke the silence. + +"May we come in? We thought we'd like--that maybe you'd like--" Oh, it +was dreadful to know what to say, when all the time you were thinking +she really was a Queen! + +"You have stumbled upon my little house again? Come in and sit down. +Brina and I do not often have callers; you must pardon us if, perhaps, +we are a little awkward in our hospitality. Cćsar, lie down _He_ is glad +to see you! I have been looking over a book of colored prints of old +cathedrals. Would you like to pull your chairs up to the table and look +at them with me?" + +Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to say: "Isn't that just +what an exiled Queen would be doing?" The prints were rare and +exceedingly lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from a New York +gallery. Their hostess told them of some of the quaint cathedral towns +and the stories of the cathedrals themselves. Robin, who had an +inherited appreciation of beauty, listened eagerly, putting in now and +then a question or a statement of such intelligence that the "Dowager +Queen" studied her with interest. + +Beryl, thrilled by the ermine and the gleaming brooch, did not care a +fig about the cathedrals but sat back in a rapture of speculation. There +seemed something in the stately head with its crown of white hair, +vaguely, tantalizingly familiar; she must have seen pictures of the +Queen of Altruria somewhere. She watched each gesture and fitted it to +her dream. This Queen who seemed really truly friendly now and almost +human, might go back some day to Altruria, wherever that was, and of +course, when _she_ toured Europe, or maybe even when she was there +studying, she could go and stay at the Palace just like a relative. It +would be fun to visit in a palace and smile at all the fuss and crowns +and things because you were an American and didn't believe in them. + +"Oh, we forgot our basket!" cried Robin, suddenly darting to the door +where Brina had, with a sniff, dropped their precious offering. "We +brought these--for a Christmas greeting." + +"They are lovely," cried the "Queen" with sincere delight, her eyes +drinking in hungrily the beauty of the exotic blossoms--for Robin and +Beryl had helped themselves to the best the Manor had. "And fruit--ah, +Brina's heart will rejoice. What is this?" Her slender, shapely hands +fussed over the wrappings of the book, while Robin and Beryl watched. + +"Why--" The Queen turned the book over and over, her face bent so that +its expression was hidden. The girls' delight gave way, now, to +concern--the Queen held the book so long and with such curious +intentness that they wondered, anxiously, if there were anything about +Dante's verses displeasing to a Queen of Altruria. "You never _can_ tell +about those jealous kingdoms over there!" Beryl said afterwards. + +After their hostess had "most worn the book out staring at it" she +lifted her eyes and fixed a curious gaze upon her visitors. + +"This is a rare little treasure," she said in a queer tone. "And may I +not know how it came into your possession--and who you are?" + +Robin's heart jumped into her throat. What had they done? It had looked +like any book except that the leather of the binding seemed softer than +most books and smelled very nice and there were beautiful colored +illustrations inside--but the Queen said it was a rare book and was +wondering where they had gotten it. Perhaps they had helped themselves +to the Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked frantically at +Beryl, who, guessing her intention, gave violent signs of warning, to +which she paid no heed. + +"Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch who lives with me at +the Manor. We took the book from the library there because there are +ever and ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely--when winter +comes--and enjoy it." + +"You are Robin Forsyth?" The old lady said the words slowly. + +"My real name is Gordon Forsyth, but I've always been called Red-Robin. +I'm living at Gray Manor now--over in Wassumsic. My father--he's not one +of the rich Forsyths, you see--is an artist and he's travelling with Mr. +Tony Earle, who writes, you know. I wish you could come to the Manor." +Robin's heart was light now, having, by confession, cleared itself of +its moment's dread, and she rattled on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowl +and the Queen's searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. Madame +Forsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though--at least now. She's--she's +travelling. We have a tutor and I have a guardian who lets me do about +what I please. You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I was a +boy--the Forsyths have always _been_ boys; and it was a dreadful shock, +I guess, when my guardian found out I was a girl--and such a small +girl--and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten that, now. But the +housekeeper never _will_ forgive me. And my great-aunt doesn't know, +yet. I wish for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome young +man like young Christopher Forsyth who died--but I can't, so I'm just +going to be as good a Forsyth as I can and make up to them all +for--being a girl." + +"Whom do you mean--'them all?'" asked the Queen. She had dropped into a +chair and turned her head toward the fire, in very much the same +attitude she had held upon their first visit. + +Robin, encouraged, squatted on the hearth rug, the big dog beside her, +and clasped her hands over her knee. + +"Oh, I don't mean just Madame Forsyth and my guardian, though I don't +think he cares, now, or that cross old housekeeper; I mean--all the Mill +people. You see the Mills have grown very fast and there are lots and +lots of people working in them, but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent, +is very old-fashioned and he'll never improve things." Robin racked her +brains to recall Dale's and Adam Kraus' exact words. "He's letting the +people live in awful houses and they don't have any fun or--or anything. +And Dale--he's Beryl's brother--says they'd work much better if they had +everything nice. _He_ says the Forsyths don't care, that they just think +of the Mill people as parts of a machine to make money for them, and not +as human beings. Why, there was a girl, Sarah Castle--" and Robin, her +tongue loosed, told eloquently of Sarah Castle and of Susy and Granny +and the old cottage "up the river," and then--because it made it seem so +real to tell about it--of her House of Laughter. + +"Of course," she finished, "if I were a boy I could do much more--or +even if I were big. You see, there's been what Mr. Harkness calls a +gloom over the Manor for a long time; and my great-aunt's been so sad +over that that she couldn't think of anything else--and maybe I'll be +doing something if I just show the Mill people that a Forsyth, even if +she's only a girl, _does_ care--a little bit. Don't you think so?" + +At her appeal the Dowager Queen turned such a haughty face upon her and +answered in such a cold voice: "I'm sure I do not know," that Robin +turned crimson with embarrassment. Of course, a Queen could not even be +remotely interested in the Manor and the Mills--especially if she had to +worry over a whole kingdom herself. She had been silly to rattle on the +way she had! + +Brina, quite unknowingly, came to the rescue with a tray of cakes and a +pot of cocoa. + +Their hostess, her annoyance put aside, smiled graciously again, and +poured the cocoa into little cups while the firelight flashed from the +brooch on her dress. Brina went back and forth with heavy tread, +sullenly watchful of her mistress' smallest need. The girls sat close to +the table upon which still lay the book of cathedral prints and sipped +their cocoa and ate their cakes. The wintry sun shone in through the +curtained windows, giving the room, with its pale glow, a melancholy +cheerfulness. + +"Must you really go?" asked their hostess, politely, when, a half-hour +later, Robin and Beryl exclaimed at the lateness of the hour. + +"Why, we never meant to stay so long! It has been so nice." Robin +wondered, if she held out her hand, would the Queen take it? She +ventured it with such a shy, appealing movement that the old lady +clasped it in hers, then dropped it abruptly, as though annoyed by her +own impulsiveness. + +"The afternoon has passed very pleasantly for me." The Queen's voice was +measuredly polite. "I thank you for thinking of me--in my out-of-the-way +corner, and bringing me such lovely gifts." Her eyes turned from the +flowers which Brina had put in a squat pewter pitcher to the book which +lay on the table. Then she turned to Robin and levelled a glance upon +her which held a queer challenge. + +"If you succeed--with your--what did you call it--House of Laughter, let +me know, sometime. I shall be most interested in your experiment." + +"Then she _was_ listening," thought Robin, wondering at the bitter tone +in the woman's voice. "Maybe she's so lonely and so unhappy she hates to +think of laughter." + +"Well, Red-Robin Forsyth, you certainly did spill everything you knew +and a lot more besides," cried Beryl, when the two were alone. "As if a +Queen cared a fig! I tried to head you off a couple of times." Beryl +laughed scornfully. "It was _funny_!" + +Robin still smarted from her recent embarrassment; she did not relish +Beryl's laughing at her. + +"We had to talk about something," she cried in defence. + +"Well, if you'd given me a chance I'd have talked about things that are +happening in Europe. Sort of led her on, you know, so's maybe she'd give +herself away. _That's_ what _I_ wanted--to find out something about +_her_ instead of telling all about ourselves. Here she knows everything +about you and you notice she didn't say one word about herself! The +whole afternoon's wasted and we might as well not've gone at all. I +wanted to get something on her so's maybe--some day--" Disgusted, Beryl +broke off abruptly, quickening her step to show her companion her +displeasure. + +Robin limped in silence after her; she _had_ talked too much, the Queen +was probably laughing at her now--and Beryl was angry and disgusted. + +Beryl forgot her moment's displeasure, however, when Williams imparted +to them the "dope" he had on the "Queen-dame," gleaned from the old +storekeeper. + +"Old Si says the 'queer party' bought that house off up there last fall +suddenly and moved up from somewhere or t'other with a truck load of +stuff. The Big-gun, beg pardon, I mean the Queen, came herself, with +some sort of a body-guard in an enclosed car, that went away after it'd +landed them in the woods. Si's sore, I suppose, because they get 'their +vittles sent up from New York'--though I don't know as I blame them from +what I saw in his store. Says the 'queer party' walks through the +village sometimes, but she's always with her body-guard and a big dog, +and wears a heavy veil 'like them furrin' women'." Williams chuckled as +he tried to give to his little account the touches Si had put into it. + +Beryl caught Robin's hand in an ecstasy of delight. "There. _That_ +settles it as sure as anything. I'd like to write to somebody in +Washington and tell what we know and maybe we'd get a reward. Royalty +most always has a price on its head," Beryl finished grandly. + +Robin wanted to protest at the thought of there being a price on that +snow-white head, but not certain as to how far she had been restored in +Beryl's favor, she refrained, and merely smiled in assent to Beryl's +excitement. + +"We've got to hurry back if we beat that cloud yonder," declared +Williams, nodding toward a gathering bank of dark clouds in the western +sky, and the mention of snow brought back to the girls the approaching +party. + +It did snow--long before Williams reached the Manor, so that the car was +covered; throughout the dinner Harkness went again and again to the +window to peer out, always turning back with the worried announcement: +"It's still coming down." And at bedtime Robin, peeping out, saw a world +blanketed white. Even Mr. Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon his soft +pillow with the regretful thought: "Now the Grangers cannot come. A +pity. Yes." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE PARTY + + +The household at Gray Manor looked upon the heavy fall of snow with +varying emotions. Harkness lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off for +Missy's party. If it was the old days--well, the county lydies could a' +come in their sleighs. All right as far as the post road goes, but the +Grangers--" + +Downstairs Budge rejoiced that the Grangers might not come. "Eyes like a +ferret that woman has and like as not she never got over our boy's +going. She'd say things _was_ going to sixes and sevens, with a little +thing no bigger'n a penny in our boy's shoes--she would. But I'd like to +know who ever'll eat all the stuff I'm fixing!" The house cleaned to a +fine polish from attic to cellar, Mrs. Budge had turned her attention +most generously to the food. + +"Why does everyone care about Mrs. Granger?" asked Robin, of Harkness, +when even Percival Tubbs regretted, with a sigh, that Mrs. Granger might +not find it possible to come. + +"Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame herself," explained +Harkness. "In the old days her people and the Manor people were thick +like and visited backward and forward. And there was talk of young +Christopher some day marrying the young lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tell +his death was a sad blow to them. They haven't been coming much to the +Manor since, but we laid it to Madame's queer ways and the gloom." + +"Will the others be able to come? Won't Mrs. Budge have _lots_ too much +food?" + +"Well, you might say most will make it, for they keep the post roads +open. We'll hope for the best, missy," he added, interpreting Robin's +anxious questioning as an expression of disappointment. + +But Robin's sudden concern over the party had nothing to do with the +coming of Mrs. Granger or anyone else. As she had stood in the window, +her nose flattened against the pane, staring out at the snowy slopes, +she had been suddenly inspired by a beautiful plan. She turned to Beryl. + +"Can something be sent up from New York in a day?" + +"Depends." Beryl answered shortly. "What?" + +With one of the lightning-like decisions, characteristic of her, Robin +decided not to take Beryl into her confidence--just yet. + +"Oh, I was thinking. Something about my party. I'll tell you--later." + +Beryl stared at Robin a little suspiciously--Robin looked queer, +all-tight-inside, as though she'd made up her mind to do something. It +was the new Robin again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell-- + +After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer garments and slipped out of +the house while Beryl was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fully +grown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch. + +Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted down Mrs. Budge, whom +she found mixing savory concoctions in a huge bowl. + +"M'm, how good things smell," she began, to break down the hostility she +saw in Budge's eye, "Is that for the party?" + +"'S going to be," and Budge stirred more vigorously than ever. + +"Mrs. Budge, will there be enough food for--some extra ones--I've +invited or I'm--going to invite?" + +Budge dropped her spoon. "Well, no one ever went hungry in _this_ +house," she answered crisply. "May I ask who _your_ guests are?" Budge +permitted herself the pleasure of a meaning inflection on the "your." + +"Well, I'm not quite sure--yet, only I wanted to know about the food--" +Robin retreated step by step toward the door, her limp exaggerated by +the movement. "I'm waiting for word from my guardian." + +"_Robin_! Humph," Budge flung at the door as it closed upon the girl. +"If it wasn't that this house depended on me I'd drop my spoon and walk +out this minit, I would, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. Guests! Like as +not some of these Mill truck." + +More than the snowstorm threatened the success of Robin's "at-home." For +Cornelius Allendyce was suddenly prostrated by a bad attack of +sciatica. And his sister declared she could not leave him; at such times +only her patient and faithful ministrations eased his intense suffering. + +"I'll telephone to Wassumsic right away and don't you worry," she begged +of him, "they'll get along somehow or other." + +"They'll have to," the guardian growled, between groans. + +But before Miss Effie could telephone, Robin's telegram came. Cornelius +Allendyce opened it with indifferent fingers, read it, then rose upright +with such suddenness that a loud cry of pain burst from him. + +"Will you listen to this? That child wants me to express fifty sleds to +the Manor, at once! Read it and see if I've gone crazy." + +"There, there, lie still, Cornelius--I don't care if she wants fifty +sleds or fifty hundred. Send them to her and wait until you're well to +find out if she coasted on all of them or wanted them for kindling wood. +There--I knew it'd make your pain worse. Wait--I'll warm this!" All +solicitous, for her brother's face had twisted in agony, the sister +dropped the telegram and busied herself over her patient. + +Her advice seemed good. "Well, send them. Tell them to rush the order," +he groaned, then gave himself over to his suffering with, somewhere back +in his head, the thought that there was quite a bit more to being a +guardian than he had calculated. + +So while Harkness and Budge and Mrs. Williams, pressed into service, +made the old Manor festive with flowers and pine boughs, Robin completed +the plans for her part of the party, and confided to Beryl that fifty of +the Mill youngsters were coming to the Manor to coast on the sloping +hillside. + +"Robin Forsyth, what ever will they all say?" + +"Who?" demanded Robin, with aggravating innocence. + +"All the guests. Why, Robin, you're hopeless! You simply can't get it +into your head that the Forsyths are different from--the Mill people." + +"They're not. And we haven't time to argue now. They're coming--a lot of +them. Your mother invited them for me through the school teacher--you +see, there wasn't time for me to, because I didn't know where the +younger children lived. My guardian has sent on the duckiest sleds--all +red. Williams brought them up and they're out in the garage. He's going +to take charge of my part of the party." + +"Does Budge know?" + +Robin hated to admit that she had been afraid to tell Budge. She flushed +ever so slightly. "N-no. At least I told her there were some extra +coming. Oh, Beryl, _don't_ act as though you thought everything was +going to be a failure. I thought--as long as there was going to be this +stupid old reception here and lots of nice food, it was the _only_ time +to have a party for the kiddies, for Budge would never cook a crumb if +it were just for them. I wish my guardian were here--I _know_ he'd +understand." + +"Where are they going to eat?" + +"The ladies? Oh, the children. I've told Harkness to put a table in the +conservatory and make it Christmasy." + +"You're clever, Robin. Harkness will do it for you--but, oh, he'll hate +it; I can hear him--'things aren't like they used to be.' As my father'd +say-you're killing the goose that lays the golden egg, all righto. Budge +will tell Madame, sure's anything." + +"What do you mean?" asked Robin quietly, a little gleam in her eyes. + +"Why, stupid, the Forsyths aren't going to stand for that sort of thing. +They'll send you back--" + +"Beryl, do you think I'm staying here for the Forsyth money--or--or care +about it? I came here so that Jimmie could go away without worrying +about me. When he comes home I shall go back to him, of course." + +"Leave Gray Manor?" Beryl's voice rang incredulously. + +"Of course. I like it here and there are lots of things I want to do, +but when Jimmie comes back--if he wants me--" her voice trembled. + +Beryl stared at Robin as though she saw a strange creature in the +familiar guise. "You _are_ the queerest girl. You don't seem to care for +the things money can get for you!" She had to pause, to pick her words. +"Why, if _I_ had the chance--all the advantages, and taking lovely +trips, and the fun. You could go to one of these girls' schools and play +tennis and golf and ride horseback! And always have pretty clothes!" The +bitter edge to Beryl's voice betrayed how much she would like these +things. + +"Would you desert your mother and--and Dale for things like that? Would +you?" + +In her relentless dreaming, in her sturdy ambitions, Beryl had never put +such a question to herself. She had simply never seen them in her +picture. She evaded a direct answer now. + +"They'd want me to!" + +"Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are like that. Just +unselfish. But you wouldn't give your mother up for anything. I know you +wouldn't." + +Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. In her innermost +heart--an honest heart it was--she was not quite sure; her life had been +different from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things and go +straight for them; so had Dale. If getting them meant sacrificing +sentiment--well, she'd do it. So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thought +Dale perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand because Robin had +never wanted anything big--Beryl always fell back upon this comforting +thought. + +"Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't get so interested in +your kids that you forget Mrs. Granger. She _is_ coming--they +telephoned that the road is open." + +Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of Beryl's head to show her +that, no matter how much they disagreed, they were good friends, and +went off in search of Harkness. + +The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servants +ready. With myriad lights, gleaming from candles and chandeliers, +reflecting in the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and bronze, +the air sweet with the scent of pine and flowers, the old Manor had +something of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the +old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with a +dour and suspicious eye and Harkness, dignified in his faded livery, +made the "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as he could, +with a heart heavy with doubt as to the "fitness" of Missy's whims. + +Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very small in the stately +drawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the +hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as +Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts +on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were +flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in +glee. + +True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrived +first. Robin saw masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened face +somewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot Mr. Tubbs' careful +teaching, said "I'm pleased to know you," instead, and held out her hand +to the tall, thin, mannishly dressed young woman behind Mrs. +Crosswaithe, who, though Robin did not know it, was Mrs. Crosswaithe's +daughter. + +For an hour the guests arrived in as steady a stream as their +high-powered cars could carry them through the heavy roads. The Manor +had not been opened like this for years and the "best people in the +county" took advantage of the opportunity to look for signs of failing +fortunes, to see the "girl" who had come to the Manor, and to find out +just where Madame was travelling. Thanks to Budge's heroic work no one +discovered any sign of change in the old house; their questioning only +met with disappointment, and Budge's food was of much more interest than +the young heiress who, they decided, was a pretty little thing but much +too small for her age. + +Robin shook hands until her arm ached, mumbled the wrong thing most of +the time which, however, did not seem to make any difference with +anyone, and kept one eye longingly on the window, and one ear listening +for the shouts outside which were growing louder and louder. She seized +an opportunity to go to the window and watch, so that when the great +Mrs. Granger arrived Mr. Tubbs had to, a little sharply, recall her to +her duty. + +"Isn't she--awful?" whispered Robin to Beryl, as Mrs. Granger, after +condescendingly patting Robin's hand, swept on. + +"She thinks _she's_ so grand, but she ought to see the Queen!" Which +observation would have enraged Mrs. Granger, had she heard it, for she +had felt particular satisfaction in her dress and hat, sent on, only the +day before, from the most expensive shop in New York. + +"Miss Alicia didn't come--she's in California. Say, Robin, there's a +Granger boy, 'bout eighteen. Maybe that's why my lady Granger's so sweet +to you." + +"Silly!" Robin flung at Beryl in retort. "Oh, dear, can't I go out to my +own guests now?" + +Robin and Williams had planned that the children should be admitted to +the conservatory through a side door, leaving their outer garments in a +vestibule. So, when everything was in readiness for them, Harkness gave +the sign, and Williams herded his noisy troupe to the house. + +Many of the older guests had been present at that memorable birthday +party on young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and they recalled now, +over their salad plates, the brilliancy of that affair and touched upon +all that had happened since in the way of change. Mrs. Granger displayed +much emotion. + +"_That_ made a picture I will never forget!" and she nodded toward the +glass doors, curtained in soft silk, which led from the dining room to +the conservatory and which Harkness had carefully closed. "I wonder if I +might just peep in? Ah, the memories. My dear Alicia and that handsome +boy--" she touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes. + +Several who had overheard her followed Mrs. Granger to the closed doors +and stood behind her as she opened them. And their eyes beheld a sight +so different from that birthday party that they stepped back in +amazement, Mrs. Granger lifting her lorgnette in trembling fingers. + +Youngsters of every size and of every degree of greed crowded around the +long table, the "Christmasy" decoration of which had already been pulled +to pieces by eager reaching hands. Faces, still red from the crisp air +and streaked where dirty coat sleeves had rubbed them, beamed across the +heaping plates, busy fingers crammed away the goodies. One small boy +half-lay across the table; another stood in his chair, his frayed woolen +cap set rakishly back and over one ear. On each excited countenance a +shadow of suspicion mingled with the joy, a fear that the same magic +which had brought it might snatch all this strange and lovely fun away. +Harkness watched at one end of the table, Williams at another. And in +their midst sat Robin. + +"Well, I never!" murmured Mrs. Granger. Her exclamation was drowned, +however, in the babble of youthful sound let loose upon the "best people +of the County" by the opening of the door. "Miss Gordon is going in for +the pretty charity thing, is she?" + +All might have gone well even then--for Harkness had a stern eye on +everyone of Robin's small guests--had not little Susy seen her beloved +"big girl" slip through the group at the big glass doors. Susy was the +youngest of the children there; she did not go to school regularly +enough to feel at home with the others, she had refused to slide, and, +at the table had not really begun to enjoy herself until Robin had sat +down next to her, put her arm around her and coaxed her to eat the food +on the plate before her. The food had turned out to be very good and +Susy had crammed it down with her fingers, regardless of fork or spoon. +Now her "big girl" had slipped away, she was alone, that man at the end +was staring at her, panic seized her, a mad longing to escape, +anywhere--preferably back to the shelter of the "big girl's" friendly +arm. She slid down from her seat, her eyes wildly sweeping the room; +Harkness, like an ogre, guarded one end of the table, Williams' bulk +stood between her and the outer door; there was only the one way, +through the glass doors. Head down, she ran swiftly the length of the +conservatory and bolted into the little group of people watching from +the dining room door. Someone big blocked her way. With frightened hands +she pushed at her. + +"Want Granny! _Want Granny!_ Get 'way! Uh-h-h!" + +"The dreadful little thing!" someone said. + +Robin, hearing the shrill cry, rushed to the rescue, and, kneeling, +gathered poor weeping Susy into a close embrace. Over the child's +tousled head she smiled nervously at her staring guests. + +"Poor little thing, she's shy!" Then, feeling Susy quivering in her +clasp, she whispered something magical in her ears. It was only: "Robin +will keep tight hold of your hand, Susy-girl, and you needn't be a bit +frightened and by and by, if you're quiet, we'll fill a bag of goodies +for your brother and Granny." But it soothed Susy at once, and, clinging +to Robin's hand, she stared at the guests from the shelter of Robin's +skirts. + +There was a little stir among the "best people of the County"--a renewal +of the chatter, high-pitched, pleasant nothings, and side remarks, in +careful undertones. + +"Certainly, not a bit like a Forsyth." + +"I rather think Madame doesn't know what is going on here." + +"Fancy entertaining these little persons and Mrs. Granger with the same +spoon, so to speak." + +And, in a corner, Mrs. Granger was raging over the damaging imprint of +two sticky hands on the delicate fabric of her costly gown. For her's +had been the bulk that had stood between Susy and her "big girl," and +Susy had been eating chocolate marshmallow cake with both hands! + +Mrs. Granger had come to Gray Manor with the intention of coaxing Miss +Gordon to spend Christmas at Wyckham, the Granger home. But, as she made +ineffectual dabs at the greasy spots on her skirt with her silly little +handkerchief, she put such a thought quite away from her mind. + +"Brat!" she cried under her breath, angrily, and from the way she glared +at Robin and Susy no one could have told which of the two she meant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR + + +Christmas without Jimmie was, for Robin, a thing not to think about. And +from Beryl, inasmuch as that young lady affected a stoical indifference +to the holiday, she could get little sympathy. Beryl had shocked her +with the heresy: "Christmas is just for rich people, anyway." + +"It is not. Oh, it isn't," Robin had cried in remonstrance. But she +could not tell of her and Jimmie's happy Christ-days without giving way +to the tears which, at the thought, scalded the backs of her eyes. It +had not been alone the holly and pine of the shop windows, or the simple +gifts Jimmie's loyal and more fortunate friends brought, or the usual +merry feast that had made them happy; it had been a deep and beautiful +understanding of the Infinite Love that had given the Christ-child to +the world, that Love which surpassed even Jimmie's love for her or hers +for Jimmie, and that was hers and everyone elses. She had felt it first +when, a very little girl, she had gone, once, with Jimmie into the +purple shadows of a great church, where the air was sweet with incense +and vibrating with the muted notes of an organ. She had stood with +Jimmie before a little cradle that had seemed beautiful with gold and +precious colors but, when she looked again, was a humble thing of wood +and straw, and what she had thought so bright was the radiance of +candles and the reflection from the many-colored windows. Then she had +looked at the cradle more closely and had found that it held a beautiful +wax babe. When Jimmie tugged at her hand she had reluctantly turned +away. At the same time a shabby old woman and a little boy, who had been +kneeling nearby, arose, and the old woman and the little boy had smiled +at her--a _different_ smile and she had smiled back. On the way home +Jimmie had explained to her that the Gift of the Christ-child was the +great universal gift and belonged to everyone, the world over. She knew, +then, why the shabby old woman had smiled--it was over the Gift they +shared. + +"Christmas is for _everybody_," she finished. + +"Well, all it means to me now that I'm big," pursued Beryl, "is stores +full of lovely things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money +to buy them. And talking about how much everything is. I heard a woman +once saying she had to spend five dollars on her aunt because her aunt +always spent five dollars on her. That's why I say Christmas is for the +rich--it's a sort of general exchange and take it back if you don't like +it or have half a dozen like 'em, or put it away and send it to some one +next Christmas. Miss Lewis, at the Settlement where mother worked, gave +a book to a lady one Christmas and got it back the next, and the leaves +weren't even cut." + +Robin laughed in spite of her disapproval of Beryl's heresy. "There +_are_ different kinds of Christmases, Beryl, and I'll show you," she +protested, then and there vowing to make the Christmas at the Manor a +merry one, in spite of odds. + +"Well, the nicest thing _I_ know that's going to happen is that +Rub-a-dub-dub is going home," retorted Beryl. + +"That _is_ nice, but there'll be even nicer things. Let's invite your +mother and Dale for dinner and have a little tree and we'll make all +sorts of foolish things to put on it." + +To Beryl this did not sound at all exciting but Robin loved the thought +of sitting with Mrs. Lynch and Dale and Beryl, like one happy family, +around the long table. She'd ask Harkness to cut pine boughs and a nice +smelly tree, which she and Beryl would adorn with gifts that had no more +value than a good laugh. + +And she would coax Harkness to get Williams and his nice wife to help +open and clean the House of Laughter. She'd like to have it a Christmas +gift from her to the Mill children. + +She found Harkness ready for her wildest suggestion. He had confided to +Williams and Mrs. Budge that he felt sorry for little Missy alone in the +big house on Christmas. + +"A lot of pine and holly, Missy, and the old place won't look the same. +A tree--of course there'll be a tree! Whoever heard of Christmas +without a tree. Many's the one I've cut with the young master; he'd have +no one but Harkness do it, for he said I always found the best trees." + +But the old man's head began to whirl a little when Robin explained +about the House of Laughter and the dinner that must be "different." She +had to tell him again and again, until her tone grew pleading. + +"I'll help you, Missy, only I'm a little slow just understanding. It'll +come, though, it'll come. Williams will give a hand and his wife maybe, +and I'll tell Mrs. Budge about the Christmas cakes and things. It'll be +as merry a Christmas as old Harkness can make it, Missy." + +"Oh, Mr. Harkness, you're a dear," Robin cried, with a look that made +the old man's heart almost burst with affection. + +"But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than she has to know," he +thought, as he went off to do Robin's bidding. + +With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, who had married the +telegraph operator at the little station, pressed into the work, the +empty cottage at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Windows +were opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in the sweet cold air; +under the magic of strong soap and good muscle the old wood-work shone +with cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy. Harkness and +Williams hauled down a load of wood and piled it high by the back door; +Mrs. Lynch transformed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, eager +thing. + +Williams, who was very clever and would have been a carpenter if he +hadn't been a chauffeur, built tables out of rough boards and, in the +living room, put up shelves for books and the window seat Robin wanted. + +Robin and Beryl flew about in everyone's way, eager to help and generous +with advice. + +"There, I'd say things were pretty nice," exclaimed Williams, at the end +of the sixth day of work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction the +chair he had made out of "odds and ends." + +"But it doesn't look like what we want--yet!" Robin glanced about +dolefully. "It needs such a lot to make it homey. Where'll we ever get +it all?" + +"Now, Miss Robin, Rome wasn't built in a day, as I ever heard of," +protested Harkness, a smudge over his nose and two long nails between +his teeth. "I guess there's truck enough in the attic up there at the +Manor to fill this house and a dozen like it." + +"Oh, Mr. Harkness, may we use it? Or--just borrow it until my aunt +returns? Can we?" + +Harkness exchanged glances with Williams. Harkness knew that it had long +been Mrs. Budge's custom to make a two day trip to New York during the +week preceding Christmas. They could take advantage of her absence. + +"Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, to do." And no one thought +of smiling at his "we" for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or she +had a share in Robin's House of Laughter. + +But even stripping the Manor attic of its "truck" did not satisfy Robin +and the day before Christmas found her House of Laughter lacking in the +things she wanted most. + +"It ought to have jolly pictures and ever so many books and pillows and +nice, frilly curtains," she mourned, wondering how much they would cost +and how she could ever get them. + +On Christmas morning, Harkness dragged to Robin's door a box of gifts +from her guardian. Most of them Miss Effie had selected, as poor +Cornelius Allendyce was still confined to his room, and that +good-hearted woman had, with a burst of real Christmas spirit, simply +duplicated each gift, for, though she wasn't at all sure, yet, that this +"companion" of Robin's choosing was the refined sort Robin ought to +have, nevertheless she was a girl like Robin and Christmas was +Christmas. Beryl appreciated the thoughtfulness more than she could +express and when she found a little book entitled "Old Violins" and +_only one_, she hugged it to her with a rush of happy feeling. + +Later in the morning Mrs. Granger's chauffeur arrived with a great box +of bon-bons in queer shapes and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had ever +seen anything quite so extravagantly contrived. + +"She paid a fortune for _that_," declared Beryl, appraisingly. "She must +have forgiven Susy for spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking of +her son again. Let me read the card. 'Hoping you will coax that nice Mr. +Tubbs to bring you to us before my youngsters go back to school--' +Didn't I tell you, Robin?" + +"I won't go," Robin answered briefly, pushing box and card away with a +gesture that disposed of Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim the +tree." + +Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the straightest, +princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. Its fragrance penetrated and +filled the old house. The girls went about sniffing joyously, carrying +in their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of bright paper. +Harkness, oddly dishevelled and excited, balanced on a stepladder and +fastened the gay ornaments where Robin directed. + +Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christmas tree without the +usual tinsel and glittering baubles. But after Robin and Harkness had +worked for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very Christmasy and +"different." + +"You're awfully clever, Robin," she declared, in a tone frankly +grudging. "You make little things count for so much--like mother." + +"I think _that's_ a compliment. And speaking of your mother, Beryl +Lynch, we have just time to wash our hands and faces and change our +dresses before she comes. Oh, hasn't this day simply flown? And _hasn't_ +it been nice, after all? Isn't Harkness darling--look at him." For +Harkness, his head on one side, a sprig of holly over one ear where +Robin had put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which Robin had +made of bright tissue paper and which he had carefully hung by the +heels. + +"That kite looks as real as can be, Missy." + +Giggling, the girls rushed away to make ready for what Robin declared +(though she had been much hurt by Dale's refusing to come) the nicest +part of Christmas. + +Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with the last touches of the +Christmas feast. + +"That's the prettiest cake I ever saw if I do say so," she cried, +patting the round cherry which adorned the centre of the gaily frosted +cake. Then, lest she grow cheerful, she drew a long sigh from the depths +of her bosom. "But, cake or no cake, I never thought I'd live to feed +Mill persons, coming to our table like the best people. Things plain +common. It ain't like the old days--it ain't." + +"The old days are old days, Hannah Budge," rebuked Harkness, who had +come into the kitchen. "Mebbe our little lydy's ways aren't our ways but +it isn't so bad hearing the young voices and you'll admit, Mrs. Budge, +that that's a fine cake and there'd be no cake if Missy wasn't here, +now, won't you?" + +"I haven't time for your philosophizing, Timothy Harkness. With things +at sixes and sevens I have enough to do!" But Mrs. Budge's tone had +softened. She _had_ not made a Christmas cake (at sixteen Hannah Budge +had taken the prize at the County Agricultural Exhibit for the finest +decorated cake, and she had never forgotten it) since Master Christopher +the Third had left them. And she _had_ enjoyed hearing young voices and +eager steps in the old house and had caught herself that very morning, +as she helped Chloe stuff the turkey, singing: + +"Oh, com-m-me let 'tus a-dor-r-re Him." + +Chloe's last delectable dish for the dinner eaten, Harkness drew back +the folding doors to reveal the Christmas tree in the conservatory. And +Robin, waiting for Mrs. Lynch's "oh" of admiration, gave vent herself to +a delighted cry of surprise for, at the foot of the tree, so still as to +seem a graven image, sat little Susy, cross-legged, staring in wrapt +contentment at the bright ornaments. + +"Susy, you _darling_, where in the world did you drop from?" Robin +rushed to her and knelt at her side. + +Without moving her eyes so much as a fraction of an inch, Susy indicated +the side door of the conservatory as her means of entrance. In one hand +she clutched a soiled ragged picture book, on its uppermost page the +colorful illustration of "The Night before Christmas." Susy had not +forgotten the magic of that side door which had opened for her upon a +feast beyond her wildest imaginings; if there were a place on earth +where that Christmas tree of her picture could come really true it must +be at the "big girl's." Alone she had bravely climbed the hill to the +Manor to find out. + +Not a word could Robin's questioning drag from her. + +"You shall stay here as long as you want," Robin finally declared, +popping a round bon-bon between the child's trembling lips. "We needed a +little girl to sit at the foot of that tree, didn't we?" + +At Robin's command, Harkness played the rôle of Santa. The girls had +fashioned all sorts of nonsensical gifts out of paper and cardboard and +paste; no one was forgotten. Mrs. Lynch declared herself "as rich as +rich" with bracelets and a necklace made of red berries. Mrs. Budge, +forgetting, when Robin held a sprig of mistletoe over her head and +daringly kissed her wrinkled cheek, that "things was going to sixes and +sevens," laughed until her sides ached at Harkness in his silly clown's +cap. Robin and Beryl, with much solemnity, exchanged purchases each had +secretly made at the village store and Robin could not resist adding: +"Dare you to send it to me next Christmas." + +Beryl had to admit, deep in her heart, that Robin had managed a +Christmas full of joy that had nothing to do with stores full of lovely +things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money to buy them. +Never having thought much about the Christmas spirit, she had no name +with which to explain Mrs. Budge's awkwardly kind manner--even to her, +or her mother's unusual animation, or why the picture of little Susy, +still rooted to the tree, clasping a great paper doll in her arms, made +her glad all over. But after a little she disappeared, and presently, +from the library, came the strains of her violin, low, pulsing with a +deep emotion, now a laugh, now a sob, climbing higher and higher until +they sang like the far-off, quivery note of a bird, flying into the +heavens. + +A deep hush fell over the little group of merrymakers. Harkness coughed +into his hand. Mrs. Budge fussed around the spacious belt of a dress for +a handkerchief and, finding none, surreptitiously lifted a corner of her +apron. Mrs. Lynch caught her throat with a convulsive movement as though +something hurt it. Robin, watching her, slipped her hand into the +mother's and squeezed it. + +"Don't go," she whispered when the music suddenly ceased. "Beryl's +funny. She likes to be alone when she plays." + +"I never heard her play--like _that_!" + +"Oh, Beryl's wonderful!" Robin smiled happily in her faith. "She makes +that all up, too, 'cause she hasn't any music. She's going to be the +greatest violinist in the world. Hush!" + +Beryl had begun a lilting refrain, as though a mother laughed as she +sang a lullaby. It had in it a familiar strain which carried little Mrs. +Moira back to Beryl's baby days. Then the lullaby swung into the deeper +tones of a Christmas anthem and again into a tempestuous outburst of +melody, as though Beryl had let loose all at once the riotous feelings +that surged within her. + +Just as the last note died away a bell pealed through the house. Because +it was still Christmas, really being only nine o'clock, everyone looked +for a surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when Harkness placed an +impressive envelope in Robin's hands and said that a stranger had +brought it to the door. + +"He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but before I could as much +as say 'Good evening' he was off in the dark." + +Robin studied the address, which was printed. It gave no clue +whatsoever. Nor was there anything else on the envelope. She broke the +sealed flap, with an excited giggle. Five crisp bank-notes fell out. + +"For goodness' sake," cried Beryl, staring. "Who ever sent them?" + + "TO MISS GORDON FORSYTH. Please use this money for your House of + Laughter. I am deeply interested in your experiment. Frankly, I do + not believe it will work; but if it does my little contribution + will be well spent; and if it doesn't, my own conviction will be + justified. + + YOUR FRIEND NEAR THE RUSHING WATER." + +Beryl squealed with delight. "How _larky_ to have her remember every +solitary thing you told her, Robin--even what we called her house. What +are you going to do with it all? I wish _I_ could get money like that." + +Robin stood staring at the letter--not at all jubilant over the +unexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't said she didn't believe the +experiment would work. It _isn't_ an experiment and it _will_ work. I'm +not _trying_ anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, who hastily +assured her with a "No, dearie." Then Robin gathered up the bank-notes. + +"Though I did wish we had more nice things for the house and now we can +get them. But isn't this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen a one +and two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. "I never had so much in my +life." + +At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas celebration apparently +abandoned in the excitement of the strange letter, she departed +kitchenward. + +Harkness volunteered to escort Susy and Mrs. Lynch back to the village. +In a twinkling the house had quieted so that the girls' footsteps, as +they climbed the stairs, resounded strangely. + +Robin leaned for a moment against the banister and looked back into the +shadows of the great, dimly-lit hall. + +"Listen a moment, Beryl! Can't you hear tiny echoes of voices and +laughter? Don't you s'pose even the things we think and feel get into +the air, too--and linger?" + +Beryl tugged at her arm. "Oh, come on, Robin. You make me creepy. You'll +be seeing ghosts in a moment. I want to have a good look at that letter. +_Wasn't_ it a surprise, though?" + +But after a close study of it, Beryl threw the letter down in +disappointment. "Not so much as a tiny crown on it! I'll bet she had +someone write it for her, too. It looks all big and scrawly--like a man. +Anyway, Robin, you ought to keep one of the bills as a souvenir." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER + + +The day after Christmas, and for many days thereafter, Robin counted +over the five precious bank-notes. She knew with her eyes shut each line +and shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept them in a little +heart-shaped box that had been a favor at a studio party she had gone to +with Jimmie a few years ago. + +Their magic opened possibilities for her House of Laughter; +curtains--cushions--books--pictures--games, why, she could have all the +things she had wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And behind +her eager planning was a thought she kept shut tight away in her heart. +If there were any money left--by careful buying--the Queen would surely +want her to give it to Dale to perfect his model. For had not Adam Kraus +and Dale both said that the little invention would make everything at +the Mills better? She would present her gift to him at the "opening" of +the House of Laughter. Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there. +Under cover of the general merriment she would find an opportunity. She +went over and over, until she could say them backward, the few words +with which she would make him accept the money. + +Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's mind, declared she +fussed an awful lot over samples and lists for anyone who had so much +money to spend and Mrs. Lynch encouraged her economy because, she said, +"'Twas likely as not the roof'd leak in the Spring and shingles cost a +lot, they did." When Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonne +too expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese cloth they bought at +the village store a gay yellow. And she wisely counselled Robin to let +her write to Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the Settlement +House where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitable +pictures and the right books with which to begin. "_She'll_ know, +dearie." + +While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch took +pains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the Mill +Village by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley and +telling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word," she +explained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people were +going to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute little +cards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me." + +"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin asked +eagerly. + +Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not been +able to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poor +Harkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures Miss +Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves. + +Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of the +living room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and +laughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, because +he looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang over +the shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest in +the festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robin +let her help in planning everything to the smallest detail. + +The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their +sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and +depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening +the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in +the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the +books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be +sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little +speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do +what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind +the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, +shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted +that she really must because she was a "Forsyth." + +Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them +to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night. + +And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars left +in the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from her +ridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune. + +Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectant +sponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve +o'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went to +Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and better +living conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the +first time these complaints and requests had been laid before the +superintendent--but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girls +who hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hope +kindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talk +so convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris +realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more money +almost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. Adam +Kraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero--for the moment. As he +came, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quick +shout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw his +failure written on his angry face. They pressed about him, eager for +details, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he +had not been able to make Norris listen. + +"I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills more +than a month. + +A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking strident +laugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the louder +curses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, +talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one of +these groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he +shake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat his +mother's good Saturday meal--overcooked for standing. + +"Has Adam been to Norris again?" asked big Danny. + +Dale nodded. It was not necessary for either his father or mother to ask +the outcome of the call. "Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've been +wondering if Adam is right--about the way to get this." + +"He ought to know more'n you do," flared big Danny, who loved something +upon which to vent his own rancor. + +"I suppose." Dale admitted, eating with quick, absent-minded gulps. "I'd +like to be the head of these Mills--I'd see both sides and make the +other fellow see, too." + +"Sure, it's wonderful you'd be," murmured Mrs. Lynch, caressingly. + +"Well, I'm about as far from it as I am from being President of the +United States. Adam has a better chance--if he ever gets his way. +_There's_ a leader." + +Mrs. Lynch cut a generous portion of apple pie in a silence that said +plainly she did not agree with her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped his +lips, pushed back the plate. + +"The Rileys have got to move up the river." + +"Dale, you don't say so?" Mrs. Lynch was all concern now. The Rileys +were neighbors. Tim Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at the +Mills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped Mrs. Riley care for +her husband and had grown very fond of the plucky little woman. "Why, +it's his death he'll get with the dampness up there, and those blessed +little colleens." + +"Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work half-time now and he can't +afford one of these houses." + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Lynch. "Don't tell Robin," she begged. +"It's so happy the child is with her House of Laughter, as she calls it +and--Dale, she's a different Forsyth." + +"She's just a kid," he answered, in a tone that implied Robin could have +little weight against the impregnable House of Forsyth. + +But a few hours later, when, with the coming of night into the valley, +the last tired youngster departed from the House of Laughter, balloon on +high, the "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its original +perfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as her spirits. + +"_Wasn't_ it a success? Didn't the children have a wonderful time?" she +begged to know, with all the happy concern of a middle-aged hostess. +"Are you dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's the real +test." She stopped suddenly and leaned on her broom, her face very +serious. "I do hope the big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn't +said she didn't believe our--experiment would work. Why _won't_ it work? +Don't grown-ups like to be happy just as much as children--when they get +a chance?" + +Mrs. Lynch had no answer for Robin's wondering. "Queens don't know about +things in this country," Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books are +just about ruined. I thought Tommy Black would eat up this Arabian +Nights." + +"That shows how much they want them! I don't care if they _do_ eat +them." Robin was too happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't her +beautiful plan in the process of coming true? And didn't she have her +money in her pocket all ready for Dale's grasp? + +She had brought flowers from the Manor which she arranged on the tables +and the mantel under her beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellow +glow of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and the gleams of +red from the shiny stove, which had to do for the fireplace Robin had +wanted, and the brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served to +soften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpeting and the shabby +furnishings brought from the Manor attic. + +"I do think everything's lovely and it's just because you've all been so +kind about helping," Robin declared, viewing the room with pride. "I +hope ever so many people'll come and that they'll believe it's theirs. +But, oh, Beryl, don't you think we could make them know without my +saying a speech?" And Robin shivered with nervousness. + +"Of course not," Beryl answered with cruel promptness. "Anyway, as long +as you thought about all this you ought to get the credit." Beryl had no +patience with Robin's "blushing-unseen" nature. "It'll be easy, anyway. +You just ought to know how I felt the day Mr. Henri took me to play for +Martini. Why, my knees turned to putty. But then, _that_ was different. +Listen, there comes some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until the +sandwiches are made." + +Dale opened the door and Adam Kraus followed him in. Then, while Robin, +two bright spots of color burning in her cheeks, was showing them the +new books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and miserable in their +Sunday best, and she shyly greeted them. When another knock sounded Mrs. +Lynch took the women in charge so that Robin might welcome the +newcomers. They were four of the Mill girls and they crowded into the +room, staring curiously about them and at Robin, whose greeting they +answered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they rushed to him with noisy +banter and laughter that had a shrill edge. + +Robin, left alone and without the courage to join either group, watched +the girls as they gathered about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panic +seized her. She fought against it, she told herself that everything was +going all right and that in a few moments more people would come, and +these girls, who looked at her so rudely from the corners of their eyes, +would forget about her and have a good time. From the kitchen, where +Harkness was presiding, came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryl +and Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on plates as fast as +their quick fingers could make them. Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemed +to be gossiping contentedly at one end of the room but Robin wondered +why they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch now and then glanced +anxiously in her direction; once she heard something about "the Rileys" +and an imploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus and the four girls +were urging Dale to do something and Robin saw a big girl with bold +black eyes lay a persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook off +almost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she had the courage to +break into the circle and drag Dale away from her, instead of standing +in such a silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued to the +roof of her mouth. + +And, oh, why _didn't_ more people come? What was the matter? + +After what seemed to Robin an interminable time, though in fact it was +only a few minutes, Adam Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the four +girls. "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth," he said in his easy, soft +voice. "There's an important meeting in the village. You've fixed a nice +little doll house here." + +The girl with the black eyes, standing just back of Adam Kraus' +shoulder, laughed--a scornful laugh. + +"Too bad the Rileys can't move here!" + +The Rileys again! Robin flushed at the girl's laugh and hateful eyes, +tried to answer Adam Kraus and to beg them all to wait until Harkness +brought in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her feet +rooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam Kraus and the girls start +for the little hall and hastily moved in that direction themselves. + +"Oh, _don't_ go!" Robin managed to cry, then, moving after them, "Mrs. +Lynch, make them stay. Why, I wanted this to be a _party_, to--to--This +is your House of Laughter! I--" She struggled desperately to recall the +words of the "speech" Beryl had declared perfect and to keep from +breaking down into tears before these hard, staring eyes. + +The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from behind the others, casting +a quick look at Adam Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess you +named this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It _is_ to laugh! But there +ain't many of us that know all poor little Mamie Riley's stood, and +cares about her the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels like +laughing tonight!" She tossed her head as though proud of her courage, +then singled out Dale for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, that +you're too good to come with us! Ma, (turning to a meek-faced woman), +leave the door unlocked. The meeting'll be a long one." + +And just as Mrs. Williams patted down the last sandwich, Mrs. Lynch, +with a shaking hand, closed the door and, turning, faced Dale and Robin. + +"Well, of all the ungrateful creatures!" cried Beryl, who had taken in +the little scene from the kitchen door. + +"Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear," begged Mrs. Lynch, frightened +at Robin's stricken face. + +Robin turned her glance around the deserted room as though she simply +could not believe her eyes. It must surely be an awful dream from which +she would awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as though to +keep back her own tears of disappointment. "It's a grand time the +kiddies had this day, bless the little hearts of them, and a loving you +like you were some bit of a fairy--the impudence of them--" + +"Who are the Rileys?" demanded Robin, sternly--for she _had_ to know; +the Rileys had spoiled her beautiful plans. + +"Now don't you be a-bothering your bright head with the Rileys or anyone +else--" + +Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still lingered the dark flush +that had crept up over it at the black-eyed girl's taunt. + +"I don't know why Miss Forsyth _shouldn't_ know the reason the Mill +people didn't come tonight. There's a big protest meeting about the +Rileys--it wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told you. Tim +Riley's been laid up for six months and he's just back on half-time and +can't ever do any better, I guess--and he's been ordered out of his +house which means--up the river--" + +"Up--where Granny Castle lives?" broke in Robin, in a queer voice. + +"Yes. And it's hard on Tim's wife and her children--they're just little +things. And he can't go anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife went +herself to Norris and begged for a little time until she heard from an +uncle up in Canada or found some way of earning extra money herself, and +Norris wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all pretty sore and +they called this meeting--" + +"That's where that girl wanted you to go?" + +"Yes. And that's why Adam Kraus had to hurry off." + +Robin suddenly clutched at her pocket, her face flaming. "Dale, will you +hurry--down to that meeting--and take them--this?" She held out a thick +roll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. I had saved it +for something else, but, oh, those babies just _can't_ go to that +dreadful place--" + +Dale shook his head and put his hands behind him. + +"That wouldn't go at that meeting, Miss Forsyth. The men would see red. +It isn't charity they want--it's justice. They're giving good honest +labor to Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing to pay to +live decently--they just want the chance. And to work decently, too. If +you knew the Rileys you'd know what a proud sort they are--they wouldn't +take your money any more than I would--or mother, here. If your aunt +were home or--if you'd go to Norris--" He considered a moment, frowning. +"The men and girls are so roused up that it'll be only a step to +organizing and all that sort of thing and these Mills have been pretty +free from labor trouble--if only Norris could be made to understand +that. But he's so set and out-of-date--" Dale laughed suddenly, a short, +bitter laugh, "I suppose I'm extra sore because he refused to even look +at my model." + +"You all needn't take your spite out on Robin," broke in Beryl, +vehemently. + +"Well--Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all that's happened today, the +Forsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blame +them too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to be +patronized and they look upon--all this--as a sort of--oh, charity." + +Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laid +his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his +mother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if you +begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them--yet." + +"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw he +offered. + +"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to--when they get +the idea." + +"But I wanted it to be--my gift." + +"The opportunity for them to have it _will_ be your gift." + +Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a rift in all the clouds. + +"Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And I forgetting it! Let them +pay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring +what's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These folks are +good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feel +and a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit +of fun. It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't grieve your +blessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, there'll be laughter enough in +this house by and by. Mind you what I said once about beginnings had to +come first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. Lynch and amazingly +comforting to Robin. + +She slipped the roll of bank-notes back into the pocket of her dress; +she could not even offer them to Dale, now. "You're dear and patient and +I guess I've been stupid and expected too much. But I shan't make any +more mistakes and I'm going to make the most of my 'beginning'." + +"And now, Dale boy, why not have a bit of Mr. Harkness' good coffee?" + +But, though Beryl and Robin pressed, Dale refused and slipped away and +Robin had a moment's picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl when +she saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remembering the plight of the +Rileys' she was ashamed of herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sitting +around the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while Harkness and +Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped coffee. The fire sputtered and +gleamed cheerfully, and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliant +splash of color in the soft glow of the room. + +"Who was that big girl with the black eyes?" Robin found the courage to +ask Beryl when the whole dreadful evening was over and they were back at +the Manor. + +"Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle were chums and worked +together. Dale says she's awfully clever but _I_ think she's horrid. The +way she spoke to him tonight." + +Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she hated to think that her Prince +could find this Sophie Mack clever. + +Too tired from the disappointing evening to want to talk, and too wide +awake to dream of going to sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deep +breathing told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. Then she +crept from bed and crouched, a mite of a thing, at the window sill and +stared out into the brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowy +hills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and buildings of the Mills. +Robin recalled that day she had first likened them to a Giant. That day +seemed--so much had happened since and she had grown so much +inside--very long ago and she a silly girl thinking stories about +everything. Her guardian, to amuse her, had talked about finding a Jack +to climb the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled scornfully at +the fancy--so futile in the face of the tremendous misery--and +happiness--that Giant had the power to make! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LUCKLESS STOCKING + + +Two hours after Robin's lonely vigil at the window ended, fire destroyed +the empty cottage "up the river" into which the Rileys had been ordered +to move. + +"I wish it had burned in the daytime when we could have watched it," +Beryl had declared, almost resentfully. But Robin's concern had been for +old Granny Castle and little Susy. + +Harkness, who had brought them the news, reassured her. "Too bad they +couldn't all a' burned but no such luck--only th' one. It's said that +there are some as _knows_ how a' empty house without so much as a crumb +to draw a rat could a' gone up like that did. And Williams says as how +there was men stood around and wouldn't lift a hand to help put out the +blaze though they took care it didn't spread." + +"What do you mean, Mr. Harkness?" broke in Robin. + +"Why, just this, Missy, Williams says that there's a lot of bad feeling +stirrin' and bad feelings lead to hasty things like revenge." + +"You mean some one of the Mill people set it on fire?" asked Beryl +slowly, with wide eyes. + +"And who else'd have bad feelings?" + +Robin recalled, with alarm, what Dale had said at the House of +Laughter. Could Dale have done this thing--or helped? Or stood around +and watched it burn? Oh, no, no--not Dale. + +Harkness, seeing her concern, dexterously broke a soft-boiled egg into a +silver egg-cup and said in a carefully casual voice, intended to put the +fire quite out of their minds: "Well, the constable'll find the man what +did it, so don't you worry your head, Missy." + +Robin, her heart heavy with all she wanted to do and couldn't find a way +to do, swallowed a scream at his "Don't you worry your head." Why _did_ +everyone say that to her--just because she was little on the outside? If +_she_ didn't worry her head--who was there to worry? + +It was with a heavy spirit she dressed herself--girded herself, she +called it--for her call upon Mr. Norris at the Mills. The long hours of +Sunday, through which she had to wait, had filled her with misgiving. +Now she looked so absurdly small in the mirror, her tousled hair so +childish, no matter how much she tried to tuck it out of sight under the +little dark blue toque, why would anyone, especially a manager of a +Mill, listen to her? + +Beryl, stirred to sympathy by Robin's daring to face the lion in his +den, told her for the hundredth time just how she had suffered before +that momentous visit to Martini, the orchestra leader, in New York. + +"Why, my hands were clammy and my teeth rattled and everything whirled +in front of me and my knees just knocked together, but, say, I gulped +and I said terribly hard to myself, 'You want this thing and you can't +get it if you're all soft inside and a coward', and, Robin, in a +twinkling, something began to grow inside of me and get big and big +until I had courage to do anything! Of course it was different with me +but you'll probably feel just the way I did, all strong inside, when you +face him and get stirred up. Only--I hate to tell you, but I saw you put +your stocking on wrong side out and then change it and _that's_ bad +luck!" + +Robin looked down at the luckless stocking. It looked too absurdly a +trifle to have weight with anything as important as righting the wrongs +of the Rileys. + +Afterward, however, Robin vowed she'd always take great care in her +dressing! + +Frank Norris had been superintendent of the Forsyth Mills for +twenty-five years. Since the death of old Christopher Forsyth he had run +them pretty much as he pleased, for, inasmuch as his accounting was +accurate to the smallest fraction and his profits unfailingly +forthcoming, neither Madame Forsyth nor her financial or legal advisers, +saw fit to interfere with him. For that reason the old man felt +annoyance as well as surprise when Robin broke into the usual routine of +his Monday morning, already disturbed by the mystery of Saturday night's +fire. + +He had duly paid his respects to the little Forsyth heir with a Sunday +afternoon call and had afterward reported to Mrs. Norris that she "was a +little thing, all red hair and eyes." But now, as she stood at one end +of his desk, something in the resolute set of her chin arrested and held +his attention; there _was_ something more--he could not at the moment +say what--to the "little thing" than eyes and red hair. + +Robin swallowed (as Beryl had instructed) and plunged straight into her +errand. Wouldn't he please let the Rileys stay in their cottage for a +little while--until something could be done? + +At the mention of the Rileys the smile he had mustered vanished, and his +bushy eyebrows drew sharply down over his narrow eyes from which angry +little gleams flashed. + +"Who asked you to come to me, Miss Forsyth?" + +Robin's heart went down into her boots. "No one," she answered in a +faint voice. Then, quite suddenly, something in the hard, angry face +opposite her fired that spark within her that Beryl had assured her she +would feel. She felt the "big thing" grow and grow until she stood +straight, quite unafraid, and could go on calmly. "Only I don't +think--and I don't believe my aunt would think--it is quite fair to put +them out of their house when they've had so much trouble. Hasn't Mr. +Riley always been a very good workman? There are lots of things here I +don't think quite right, and when my aunt comes back I'm going to ask +her to change--" + +"May I interrupt you, Miss Forsyth, to inquire upon what experience you +base your knowledge? For I assume, of course, you would not want to +radically change things here without knowing what you were offering in +their place. I was under the impression that you were quite a youngster +and had lived with your father in a somewhat Bohemian fashion--" + +A deep rose stained Robin's face. She caught the hint of a slur. + +"My father taught me what is honest and fair and kind and cruel and--" +She had to stop to control the trembling in her voice. The man took +advantage of it by breaking in, his voice measured and conciliatory. He +suddenly realized the ridiculousness--and the danger--in quarreling with +even a fifteen-year-old Forsyth. + +"My dear child, I can readily understand in what light certain +conditions appear to one of your tender years. When you are older you +will understand that an industry such as I am in charge of here, and +conducting, I believe, quite satisfactorily for the Forsyths, has to be +run by the head and not the heart. I dislike immensely having to do such +things as forcing the Rileys to move but you must see it is my duty. If +I make an exception in their case--there will be hundreds like them. As +it happens--" he let a rasp of anger break into his voice--"the cottage +into which they were to move was burned down Saturday night. However +that will only delay the enforcing of my order and when the man or men +who set fire to it are caught they will be dealt with--severely. Your +Rileys will enjoy a few days of grace until we can put another into +shape." + +"If they burned it it's because they had to show--us--how they +felt--that the place wasn't fit to live in! Mr. Norris, the Mill people +_are_ nice people; I heard--I heard someone say that this was the only +Mill in all New England where real white folks worked--but they think +we--I mean--the Forsyths--don't care--" + +Norris stood up abruptly. Somehow or another he must end this absurd +interview while he could yet hang on to his temper. Some one of these +miserable agitators--he suspected who it might be--had influenced the +girl, was using her for a tool. He had heard, of course, of the intimacy +between Miss Gordon and the Lynchs. + +"My dear girl--you have no idea how much I would like to go into all +this with you and straighten out the muddle in your head--but, really, I +am a very busy man. Tell me, didn't young Dale Lynch persuade you to +come to me?" + +Robin's lips parted impulsively to deny it--then closed. Dale _had_ +suggested her coming to Norris. Before she could explain, the man went +on, a ring of triumph sharpening his voice. + +"Ah, I thought so! Now let me tell you why he is disgruntled. I would +not look at some contrivance he brought to me which he claims will, when +it is perfected, increase the efficiency of our looms fifty per cent. +He's a bright young fellow but he doesn't know his place, and he's too +chummy with a certain man in these Mills to be healthy for him. However, +I'm looking to our friend the town constable to straighten all that out. +Now, Miss Gordon," with a hand on her shoulder he gently and in a +fatherly manner led her toward the door. "I would suggest, that, without +the advice of your aunt--or your guardian--you do not worry your pretty +little red head over this!" And he bowed her with pleasant courtesy out +of the door. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" _Another_ one telling her not to worry! She clenched her +teeth that no one in the outer office might see how near she was to +tears. Outside, in a stifled voice, she directed Williams to drive her +back to the Manor, then sat very straight in the car as though those +hateful eyes could pierce the thick walls and gloat over her defeat. + +Halfway to the Manor she remembered suddenly that she had quite ignored +the study hours and that doubtless poor Percival Tubbs was pulling his +Van Dyke to pieces in his rage. Then in turn she forgot the tutor in a +flash of concern for Dale. That beast of a Norris had said something +about Dale being too chummy with a certain man--and the constable! Did +they suspect Adam Kraus and Dale of setting fire to the cottage? Oh, +why had she let him think Dale had suggested her interfering for the +Rileys--how stupid she had been! If they arrested Dale and accused him +it would be her own fault. A fine way for her to repay dear, dear Mother +Lynch. What _could_ she do? + +Beryl met her with the warning that Mr. Tubbs was "simply furious"--and +had said something about "standing this vagary about as long as he +could," which did not mean much to Robin, not half so much as Beryl's +own ill-temper, for the tutor had taken the annoyance of Robin's +high-handed absentedness out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl cross +she could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into trouble. She must +meet the situation alone. + +She must warn Dale, first of all. And to do that she must resort to the +distasteful expedient of hanging about in the groceries-and-notions +store until Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as he might +possibly do. + +She found no difficulty in getting away alone, for Beryl, in the sulks, +had buried herself in the deep window-seat of the library. Down in the +store she startled the old storekeeper by an almost wholesale order of +candies and cookies and topped it off by a demand for a pink knitting +wool, which, Robin hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmost +shelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grumbling under his breath, she +hurriedly told him she _didn't_ want it and dropped a crisp five dollar +bill on the counter, for the men were pouring down the street and any +moment Dale might come. + +No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad of her fancy, could have +planned things to more of a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurd +purchases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam Kraus walked +along. It was not so much the unusualness of the girl's being there--and +alone, that brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring look in +her wide and serious eyes. + +"Where's Beryl--or that chauffeur?" He took her packages from her. + +"I want to talk to you. I _have_ to. Will you walk just a little way +home with me?" + +"Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, let's cut through here." For +Dale realized that many curious eyes were staring at them, and not too +kindly. Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truckling" to a +Forsyth, which, just then, was likely to bring contempt upon him. + +Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous picture they made; she in her +warm suit of softest duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his working +clothes, swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other balancing +her knobby packages. All she thought of was that this was Dale, the +Prince who had once befriended her, whose make-believe presence had +often gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who was in danger now; +and he looked down into the little face under its fringe of flame-red +hair and wondered what in the world made it so tragic and why it +strangely haunted him as belonging to some far-off picture in the past. + +Vehemently, because it had been bottled up so long, Robin told him how +afraid she was for him--that Norris had as much as said he suspected him +and Adam Kraus, and that the constable might arrest them any moment and +wouldn't he please--go away--or--or something? + +"He says you're disgruntled 'cause he wouldn't look at your 'toy.' He's +terribly mad about everything--I could see it in his horrid eyes. Oh, I +_hate_ him!" she finished. + +They had left the village and were close to the bend in the road where +stood the House of Laughter. Dale stopped short and threw his head back +with a loud laugh. Robin had wondered in her heart with what courage her +Prince would take the news of his danger but she had not expected this! +However, his laugh softened the lines of his face until it looked boyish +and oh, so much like it had that night long ago when she had been lost. + +"Well, here I am laughing away and forgetting to thank you for wanting +to help me. But you needn't be afraid for me, Miss Robin. There is still +a little justice in the world, in spite of men like Norris, and I can +prove to anyone that I was snug in my bed until my mother dragged me +out to go off up to the old village. I can't say I helped fight the +fire--what was the use? Nothing could have saved the old place. And I'd +rather like to shake hands with the man who set it on fire, though it +was sort of a low-down trick. Norris won't house anyone in that +rat-hole." + +An immense relief shone in Robin's face. She knew Dale had not done the +"low-down trick." She wished she had made Norris believe it! + +"About the toy--" Dale went on, soberly. "Maybe in the end it'll be a +good thing for me that Norris turned it down. Adam Kraus has taken it +and he's going to have some little metal contrivances made that it had +to have and then he'll take it to Grangers' and he feels pretty sure +that Granger will buy it. Only I had a sort of feeling that I wanted it +used here--you see these mills gave definite shape to this thing that +has been growing in my head for a long time, just like verses in a +poet's. I went to a technical night school for years, you know, and I +couldn't get enough of the machine shop. One of the teachers in the +school got this job for me here. I'd never been outside of New York +before and I thought this was Heaven, honest." + +"Mr. Norris said you claimed it would--oh, something about efficiency," +Robin floundered. + +Dale nodded. "I not only claim, I know. That little thing of mine +attached to the looms here would revolutionize the whole industry for +the Forsyths. You see these Mills are way behind times in their +equipment; with improved looms they could turn out more work, pay better +wages, and give the men better living and working conditions. And +men--the sort they have here--will work better with up-to-date things +around them; gives them an up-to-the-minute respect for their job." + +Robin stamped her foot in one of her impetuous bursts of anger. + +"He ought to be _made_ to buy it!" she cried. + +Dale turned to her and stared at her intently. + +"You're a funny little thing. Why do you care so much?" + +Robin had a wild longing to bring back to his mind that November night, +long ago, when he had found her clinging abjectly to the palings of the +park fence and had taken her home, that she had declared then that he +was her play-prince and that she would hunt for him until she found him! +And, quite by coincidence, she _had_ found him and now she wanted to do +this thing for him and not entirely to help the Forsyth Mills! But if +she told him--and he laughed--her pretty pretend would be all over and, +because it belonged to that happy childhood in the bird-cage with +Jimmie, it was precious and she did not want to lose it--yet. + +So she flushed and answered shyly: "I--don't--know." + +"I'm ever so much obliged, Miss Robin, for your interest and your +worry--over me. It gives a fellow a jolly feeling of importance to know +that a little girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss Robin, +you've made things tremendously bright for my mother this winter--and +for my father, too. I didn't know whether mother'd be happy here in +Wassumsic after being so busy in New York but it was the only way I +could stop her from working her head off and I'd decided _my_ shoulders +were broad enough to support my family. And you've done a lot for Beryl, +too. I can see it." + +"Oh, _don't_!" cried Robin. As if she could let him thank her for Mother +Lynch--as if the debt were not on her side. They had reached the Manor +gate now and Dale handed her the packages. + +"Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, so don't you be +worrying your little head," he admonished and strangely enough Robin +answered him with a smile. _He_ was different. + +But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's "sulk" had grown, like +the gathering clouds of an impending storm, into a big gloom that did +not lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left alone in the +library with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books. From +over the edge of "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccupation +and shadow on Beryl's face. + +(Oh, why _had_ she changed that inside-out stocking!) + +"Beryl, what is the matter?" + +"Nothing." + +"There _is_. You won't read or talk or--anything." + +"Well, I don't feel like it." + +"What _do_ you feel like--inside?" persisted Robin. + +"Like--nothing. _Just_ like it." + +"Beryl, are you discouraged about--your music?" + +Robin put her finger so accurately upon the sore spot that Beryl winced. +Robin added: "You ought not to be--you're wonderful!" + +"I'm _not_. You think so 'cause you don't know! I can't get something I +used to have. I had it when I played on Christmas night and oh, I felt +as though I'd always have it--it just tingled in my fingers and made my +heart almost burst and then--it went away. I can't rouse it now. I don't +even know--what made it come--inside me. But I do know that I'm as far +away from--what I want, really working and getting ahead--as I ever was. +_Further_, way off here. At least when I was in New York I had dear old +Jacques Henri to help me!" + +Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an odd feeling as though +Beryl--the first girl friend she had ever had--might be slipping away +from her. "You want to go back to New York?" she asked stupidly. + +"Of course, silly. There isn't anything, here." + +"Then you ought to go. Beryl, you _must_ go. I'm going to give you the +rest of the money--what I saved from the Queen's Christmas gift +and--and--my allowance. Oh, please, Beryl, _don't_ look like that!" + +"Thanks!" Beryl's voice rang cold. "But I'm not reduced to charity, yet. +Of course I've been kidding myself that I earn all the money you pay me +for living here--with a few clothes thrown in. Don't think I don't know +what those horrid creatures at the Mills say about me being proud and +too stuck-up to work like Dale and the others. They even taunt Dale. I +hate myself when I think of it. And all I'm earning wouldn't keep me +very long--if I ever did go to study. Oh, I just hate--_hate_--_hate_ +being poor!" Her voice broke in a great sob. + +Robin wanted to throw her arms about her and comfort her but she was +afraid for Beryl looked like a different being. And, while she +hesitated, Beryl flung herself out of the room. + +Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry and perplexity +wrinkling her face. Everything was so stupidly hard; no matter what she +tried or wanted to do--she ran up against a wall of pride. Her poor +little treasured money that she had kept in the heart-shaped box! If she +had had it in her hands then she would have thrown it into the fire. + +Oh, for a chance to do something, give something that could not be +counted--and spurned--in dollars and cents! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +GRANNY + + +Thoroughly exhausted by the nervous strain of the day before Robin slept +late. When she awakened it was to the alarming realization that Beryl +was not with her--her bed was empty, the room deserted, from the +bathroom came no sound of splashing water, with which Beryl usually +emphasized her morning dip. + +The unhappy happenings of the evening just past flashed into Robin's +mind. Beryl had not even said good-night, had pretended to be asleep. +What if she had gone away from the Manor? + +The thought was so upsetting that Robin dressed in frantic haste, paying +careful regard to her stockings, however, and tumbled down the stairs, +almost upsetting Harkness and a tray of breakfast. + +"Where's Beryl?" she demanded. + +"Miss Beryl's gone, Missy. She got up early and went off directly she +had breakfast." + +"Did she--did she have a bag?" faltered poor Robin. + +"Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 'near as I can +remember. Didn't she tell you she was going?" + +"Well--not so early," Robin defended. + +"If it's a quarrel, and young people fall out more times 'n not, Missy, +don't you feel badly. Miss Beryl'll be back here, mark my words! She's +smart enough to know when things are soft." + +"Don't you ever, _ever_ say that again, Harkness! Beryl didn't want to +stay here in the first place. She's proud and she's fine and she had +ambitions that are grander than anything the rest of us ever dreamed of. +It's just because it _is_ soft here that she didn't want to stay. She +thought she wasn't really earning anything. I should think--" and oh, +how her voice flayed poor trembling Harkness, "I should think if you +_cared_ anything about me you'd be dreadfully sorry to have me left +alone here--" + +"Now, Missy! Miss Robin! Old Harkness'll go straight down to the village +and bring Miss Beryl--" + +Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm. "I just said that to punish +you. No, I'll be very lonesome here but I will _not_ send for Beryl. +We'll get along someway. If I only were not rich, everything would go +all right, wouldn't it, Mr. Harkness?" + +"Well, I don't just get your meaning but I will. And I guess so, Missy. +And now what do you say to a bite of breakfast--fetched hot from the +kitchen to your own sunny room?" + +Robin knew she would break the old man's heart if she refused his +service so she climbed back up the stairs to the sunny window of the +deserted sitting-room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And as she +sat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia, sitting straight among +the cushions of the chaise longué, staring at her with faded, unblinking +eyes. Beryl had not taken the doll! + +A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. Beryl had _wanted_ to +make her feel badly. But why--oh, what had she done? + +"You can stay there, Cynthia. _I_ won't touch you," she cried, turning +to the window, and at the same time she registered the vow in her heart +that by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl know how her +desertion had hurt her. + +A week of stormy weather, which made the roads almost impassable, helped +Robin. She threw herself into her studies with a determination almost as +upsetting to Percival Tubbs as her former indifference. And when the +studies were over she buried herself in the great divan before the +library fire with books piled about her while Harkness hovered near at +hand, watching her with an anxious eye. + +Robin did not always read the open page. Sometimes, holding it before +her, she let her mind go over word by word what Dale had said to her as +they walked home from the store. It had not been much, to be sure, but +it had been enough to make her feel that her Prince had opened his heart +to her, oh, just a tiny bit. With her blessed powers of imagination and +with what Beryl had told her from time to time concerning him, she could +put everything together into a beautiful picture. + +Dale was splendid and brave--_he_ had not been afraid of being poor! And +he dreamed, too, like Sir Galahad, but a dream of machinery. And he had +had a beautiful light in his face when he had said that about his +shoulders being broad enough to support his family. Oh, Robin wished she +could see him in a scarlet coat like Sir Galahad wore in the picture. + +The snowstorm abating, Robin sent Williams to the village with a basket +of flowers for Mrs. Lynch and fruit for big Danny, and Williams brought +back a tenderly grateful little note from Mrs. Lynch--but not a word +from Beryl. + +"Everything must be all right or she'd have told me," Robin assured +herself. "Anyway Mr. Norris would be _afraid_ to arrest anyone like +Dale." + +What Robin did _not_ know--for it was not likely to disturb the +Manor--was that something far crueller than Norris was claiming the +anxiety of the Mill workers. A malignant epidemic had lifted its ugly +head and had crept stealthily into several homes, claiming its victims +in more than one. Norris feared an epidemic more than labor trouble; +unless it could be quickly stamped out it gave the Mills a bad name and +made it difficult to get hands. So, at its first appearance he called +the Mill doctor into consultation, and urged him to do everything in his +power to check the advance of the disease. + +The Mill doctor, an overworked man, wanted to tell Norris that it was a +pity that the whole "old village" had not gone up in smoke, but he +refrained from doing so; instead spoke optimistically of the weather +being in their favor, and went away. + +On an afternoon three weeks after Beryl's sudden and inexplainable +departure, the drowsy quiet of the old Manor was broken by a shrill +voice lifted in frenzied protest against Harkness' deeper tones. It +brought Percival Tubbs from his nap, Mrs. Budge from the pantry and +Robin from the library. There in the hall stood poor little Susy, her +old cap pushed back from her flaming cheeks, her eyes dark with fright, +struggling to escape from Harkness' tight hold. + +At sight of Robin her voice broke into a strangling sob. + +"Oh! Oh! _Oh!_" + +"She won't tell me her errand," explained Harkness, looking like a +guilty schoolboy caught in a bully's act. + +"Harkness, shame on you! Let her go," cried Robin. + +Freed from Harkness' hold Susy ran to Robin and clasped her knees. She +was shaking so violently that she could do nothing more than make funny, +incoherent sounds which were lost in the folds of Robin's skirt. + +"See how you've frightened her! Susy-girl, don't. _Don't_. You're with +the big girl. Tell me, what is the matter?" + +Suddenly Susy pulled at Robin's hand and, still sobbing, dragged her +resolutely toward the door. Robin caught something about "Granny." + +"Something dreadful must have happened to frighten her," Robin declared +to the others. "Won't you tell Robin, Susy? Do you want Robin to go with +you to Granny's?" + +At this Susy nodded violently, but when Robin moved to get her wraps she +burst forth in renewed wailing and clung tightly to Robin's hand. + +"Harkness, please get my coat and hat and overshoes. I'm going back with +Susy. Something's happened--" + +"Miss Gordon, indeed, you better not--" implored Harkness. + +"Hurry! Haven't you tormented the poor child enough? Don't stand there +like wood. If you don't get my things _at once_ I'll go bareheaded!" + +Harkness went off muttering and Percival Tubbs advanced a protest which +Robin did not even hear, so concerned was she in soothing poor Susy. + +In a few moments she was hurrying down the winding drive which led to +the village, with difficulty keeping up with Susy, leaving behind in the +great hall of the Manor an annoyed tutor, a worried butler and an +outraged housekeeper. + +More than one on the village street turned to stare at the strange +little couple, Susy, pale with fright, two spots of angry red burning +her cheeks, running as though possessed, and Robin limping after her +with amazing speed and utterly indifferent to anyone she met. + +As they neared the old village Susy's pace suddenly slowed down and +Robin took advantage of that to ask her more concerning Granny. + +"Granny's queer and all cold and she won't speak to me, she won't!" Susy +managed to impart between gasps. + +A terrible fear gripped Robin. Perhaps Granny was dead! And her +apprehension was confirmed when a neighbor of the Castles rushed out to +head her off. + +"Don't go in there! Don't go in there!" she cried, waving the shawl she +had caught up to wrap around her head. "They've got the sickness. The +old woman's dead. Tommy's staying at Welch's. My man's reportin' it this +mornin'. Poor old woman, went off easy, I guess, but it's hard on the +kid. Say, Miss, you oughtn' get close to her. It's awful catchin' and +you c'n tell by the look o' her she's got it, too." And the neighbor +edged away from Susy. + +In a sort of stupefied horror Robin looked at the neighbor, the wretched +house and Susy. Susy had begun to cry again, quietly, and to tremble +violently. + +"Susy Castle, you go like a good girl into the house n' stay 'til the +doctor comes and takes you," commanded the woman. "Don' you come near +anyone! Y' got the sickness! See y' shake!" + +"Go _'way_!" screamed Susy, clinging to Robin. Robin pulled her fur +from her throat and wrapped it about the shivering, sobbing child. + +"Yer takin' awful chances, miss--just _awful_," warned the neighbor, +edging backward toward her house with the air of having completed her +duty. "If y' take my advice you'll leave the kid there 'til some'un +comes. They'll likely take her t' the poor-house!" And with this +cheerful assumption she slammed her door. + +"There! There! Robin'll take you home. Don't cry," begged Robin, +kneeling in the path and encircling poor little Susy in her arms. "We'll +go back to the big house and Robin'll make you nice and warm." + +"I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her miserable little world +rocking about her. + +Robin straightened and looked at the house. Granny was dead, the +neighbor had said; nothing more could be done for her. But something in +the desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy window stuffed +with its rags, smote Robin. Poor Granny must have died all alone. No one +had even whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. Robin +knew little of death; to her it had always meant a beautiful passing to +somewhere, with lovely flowers and music and gentle grief. This was +horribly different--there was no one left but little Susy and she was +going to take Susy away at once. Ought she not to just go softly into +that house and do _something_--something kind and courteous that +Granny, somewhere above, might see--and like? + +"Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment." She walked resolutely +around to the door which Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At the +threshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers racing down her +spine, catching her breath, bringing out tiny beads of moisture on her +forehead. She had never seen a dead person--had she the courage? + +She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring straight ahead. In +its centre she stopped and looked slowly, slowly around as though +dragging her gaze to the object she dreaded--across the littered table, +the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots and pans, the dirty +floor, an overturned chair, the smoke-blackened lamp and last--last to +the bed. There, amid the tumbled quilts, lay poor Granny. + +Robin swallowed what she knew was her heart and walked to the bed. +"Granny," she said softly, because she had to say something, then almost +screamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. Strangely enough there +was a smile on the worn, thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robin +thought it had just come--she liked to _think_ it had just come. It gave +her courage. She smoothed the dirty gray covers and folded them neatly +across the still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. Then she +looked about. Her eyes lit on the faded pink flowers that still adorned +the what-not. Moving with frightened speed she caught them up and +carefully laid them on Granny's breast. + +"They were beautiful once and so was poor Granny. Good-bye, Granny," she +whispered, moving backward toward the door. Out in the air she leaned +for a moment weakly against the door jamb--then resolutely pulled +herself together, and carefully closed the door behind her. + +Susy stood where she had left her. "Come, Susy, let's hurry," Robin +cried. Catching the child's hand she broke into a run, wondering if she +could get back to the Manor before that dreadful sickening thing inside +of her quite overcame her. + +But at that moment Williams appeared in the automobile, jumped from the +seat and caught Robin just as she started to drop in a little heap to +the ground. + +"Miss Robin!" he cried in alarm. + +The feel of his strong arms and the warmth and shelter of his great coat +sent the life surging back through Robin's veins. She laughed +hysterically. + +"Take us home, quick," she implored. And so concerned was Williams that +he made no protest at lifting Susy into the car. + +Both Harkness and Mrs. Budge, with different feelings, were waiting +Williams' return in the hall of the Manor. Harkness, with real concern, +(he had despatched Williams) and Mrs. Budge with defiance. She had just +announced that she'd stood about as much as any woman "who'd give her +whole life to the Forsyths ought t' be expected to stand" when Robin +half-carried Susy into the Manor. + +"Harkness, _please_--Susy's very ill. Will you carry her to my room and +call the doctor?" + +"You'll do no such thing while _I_ stay in this house," announced Mrs. +Budge, stepping forward and placing her bulk between Harkness and Susy. +"Bringing this fever what's in the village to _this_ house! Not if my +name's Hannah Budge. We've had just 'bout as much of these common +carryings-on as I'll stand for with Madame away and--" + +"But, oh, _please_, Mrs. Budge, Susy's very sick and her grandmother's +just died and she's all alone! Harkness, _won't_ you?" + +"Oh, Missy, I think Budge--" began Harkness, his eyes imploring. + +Robin stamped her foot. + +"Shame on you all! You're just _afraid_. Will you call a doctor at +least--one of you? Get out of my way!" And half carrying--half dragging +Susy, Robin staggered to the stairs and slowly up them. + +Poor Robin vaguely remembered Jimmie once commanding Mrs. Ferrari to put +one of her brood into a tub of hot water into which he mixed mustard. So +Robin filled her gleaming tub with hot water and quickly undressed Susy +and put her, wailing, into it. Then she rushed to the pantry, +commandeered a yellow box, fled back and dropped a generous portion of +its contents into the tub. Next she spread a soft woolly blanket on her +bed, wrapped another around the child and rolled her in both until +nothing but the tip of a pink nose showed. + +She found Harkness hovering outside in the hall and ordered him to bring +hot lemonade at once, taking it a few minutes later from him through the +half-open door with a gleam of contempt in her eyes which said plainly +"Coward." She slowly fed Susy, watching the child's face anxiously and +wishing the doctor would come quickly. + +After an interminable time Dr. Brown came, a little shaky, and gray-eyed +and very concerned over his call to the Manor. After a careful +examination he reported to Percival Tubbs and Harkness that the child +was, indeed, desperately ill; that by no means could she be +moved--although it was of course a pity that Miss Forsyth had so +impulsively brought her to the Manor and thus exposed herself; that the +crisis might come within the next twenty-four hours, for evidently the +disease was well advanced before the grandmother succumbed; that he +would telegraph at once for a fresh nurse from New York as the one in +the village was at the breaking point from overwork; and that he, +himself, would come back and stay with the child through the night. + +It was a most dreadful night for everyone in the Manor--except Percival +Tubbs, who had slipped quietly to the station and taken the evening +train to New York. Harkness sat outside of Robin's door, his ear +strained for the slightest sound within. And Mrs. Budge worked far into +the night writing a letter to Cornelius Allendyce, commanding that +gentleman to come to the Manor and see for himself how things were going +and put an end, once and for all, to the whole nonsense--that she'd up +and walk out if it weren't for her loyalty to Madame Forsyth, a loyalty +sadly strained in the last few months. Of course she did not write all +this in just these same words but she made her meaning very clear. + +Behind the closed door Dr. Brown and Robin fought for the little life. +Only once the tired doctor said more than a few words--then it was to +tell Robin that she had shown remarkable judgment in her care of Susy +and that--if the child pulled through--it would be due entirely to her +prompt and thorough action. This little thought helped Robin through the +long hours, when her weary eyelids stuck over her hot, dry eyes and her +head ached. All night she willingly fetched and carried at the doctor's +command, stepping noiselessly, sometimes lingering at the foot of the +bed to watch the little face for a sign of change. + +Far into the morning the vigil lasted. Then Dr. Brown, his face haggard +but his eyes shining, whispered to Robin to go off downstairs and eat a +good breakfast--that Susy was "better." + +"You mean--she'll--get well?" + +The doctor nodded. "I believe so. She's sleeping now. Go, my dear." + +Robin peeped at the child's face. The deadly pallor and the purple flush +of fever had gone, the lips and eyelids had relaxed into the natural +repose of sleep. She tiptoed into the hall, deserted for the moment, +down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Budge turned as she pushed +open the door. + +"I--I--" The warm, sweet smell of the room sent everything dancing +before Robin's eyes. She reached out her hand as though groping for +support. "Oh, I--" Then she crumpled into Mrs. Budge's arms. + +Now that faithful soul, having sent off her letter to the lawyer-man, +had given herself over to worry, lest once more the "curse" was to visit +the House of Forsyth. Not that it could mean much to Madame, for she +hadn't set eyes on this girl Gordon, but it gave her, Hannah Budge, a +sick feeling "at the pit of her stomach" to think of things going wrong +again! So when Robin just dropped into her arms like a dead little thing +she stood as one stunned, passively awaiting a relentless Fate. + +"Quick--she's fainted. Let me take her! Fetch water," ordered Harkness. + +"Fetch it yourself! I guess I can hold her!" retorted Budge, tightening +her clasp. And as she looked down at Robin she remembered how Robin had +kissed her on Christmas night. Something within her that was hard like +rock commenced to soften and soften and grow warm and glow all through +her. Her eyes filled with tears and because both hands were occupied and +she could not wipe them away, she shook her head and two bright drops +rolled down her cheeks into Robin's face. At that moment--even before +Harkness brought his water--Robin stirred and opened her eyes and +smiled. + +"Oh--where am I? Oh--yes. Oh, I'm _so_ hungry!" + +But Budge was certain Robin was desperately ill; under her direction +Harkness carried her to Madame's own room while Mrs. Budge followed with +blankets and a hot water bottle. At noon the nurse arrived from New +York, and that evening the word spread to every corner of Wassumsic that +little Miss Forsyth had the "sickness." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ROBIN'S BEGINNING + + +Robin had done something that couldn't be counted--or spurned--in +dollars and cents. + +From door to door in the village the story spread; how Robin had gone +into the stricken cottage which even the neighbors shunned, and had +performed a last little act (and the only one) of respect for poor old +Granny, then, with her own fur around the child's neck, had taken Susy +back to the Manor. The doctor told of Robin's sensible care and how ably +she had shared with him the night's long vigil. The story was told and +re-told with little embellishments and often tears; the girls in the +Mill repeated each detail of it over their lunches, the men talked about +it in low tones as they walked homeward. + +And Robin's little service had a remarkable effect upon the Mill people. +Tongues that had been most bitter against the House of Forsyth suddenly +wagged loudest in Robin's praise; some boldly foretold the beginning of +a "better day." All felt the stirring of a certain, all-promising belief +that a Forsyth, even though a small one--"cared." + +But what was to be the cost, they asked one another, with anxious faces? + +Upon hearing that Robin herself was ill, Beryl had rushed to the Manor, +in an agony of fear. Robin mustn't be sick--she couldn't die! It was +too dreadful--She ought never to have gone into Granny Castle's +house--or touched Susy. + +Among the books Robin loved so well Beryl waited in a dumb misery for +hours, for some word. Harkness only shook his old head at her and Mrs. +Budge ignored her. Finally, standing the suspense as long as she could +she crept to the stairs and up them and in the hall above encountered a +cherry-faced white-garbed young woman. + +"May I see Robin, please?" she implored desperately. + +The young woman looked at her, hesitating. "Are you Beryl?" she asked. +Beryl nodded. "Then you may go in for a few moments but don't let that +old man and woman know--they've been hounding me to let them see her and +I've refused flatly." + +"Oh, thank you so much. There's something I have to tell Robin before--" +Beryl simply could not say it. She closed her lips with tragic meaning. + +The nurse stared at her a moment with a hint of a laugh in her eyes, +then nodded toward the door. + +"Second door, there. Only a minute!" And then she went on. + +Beryl opened the door, softly, her heart pounding against her ribs. What +if Robin were too ill to talk, to even listen-- + +Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It took a moment for her to +single out the great canopied bed from the other mammoth +furnishings--or to take in the small figure that occupied the exact +centre of that bed. + +"Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in amazement for the little +creature who smiled at her from a pile of soft pillows looked like +anything but a sick person; the vivid hair glowed with more aliveness +than ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, tinted the creamy +skin. A tray remained on a low table by the bed, its piled dishes +indicative of a feast. Beryl's amazed eyes flashed last to these then +back to Robin's smiling face. + +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so glad, _glad_ you came!" Robin reached out her arms +and Beryl rushed into them, clasping her own close about Robin. + +"I--I thought you were dreadfully sick," she gasped, at last. She drew +back and looked at Robin accusingly. "_Everyone_ thinks you're +dreadfully sick." + +"Then I suppose I ought to be," laughed Robin, "I'm not, though, I never +felt better in my life. But, oh, right after I knew Susy would get well +everything inside of me seemed to break into little pieces. Then that +nice Miss Sanford came and put me to bed and nursed and petted and fed +me and--here I am. She says I cannot get up until tomorrow. I'm so +anxious to see Susy!" + +Beryl, still holding Robin's hand, stared off into space, uncomfortably. +She had come to the Manor to tell Robin (before Robin should die) that +she had been a mean, selfish, ungrateful thing to run away from the +Manor the way she had done and stay away--and to beg for Robin's +forgiveness. Now she found it difficult to say all this to a pinky, +glowing Robin, and Robin, instinctively guessing what was passing in +Beryl's mind, made her plea for forgiveness unnecessary by asking, with +a tight squeeze of Beryl's hand: "You won't go away, again?" + +"No--at least--if you want me--if--" she stumbled. + +"_If_ I want you--Beryl Lynch! It was too dreadful living here all alone +with only Mr. Tubbs and Harkness and Mrs. Budge. But, Beryl, I think +maybe everything will be different now; the first thing I knew after I +fainted was that Mrs. Budge was crying! Think of it, Beryl, +_crying_--and over me! And Mr. Tubbs ran away." + +"Really, truly?" + +"Yes--the poor thing was scared silly. He didn't tell a soul he was +going and after he reached New York he telephoned." + +"Dale says everyone at the Mills is talking about you, Robin--and what +you did." + +"Why," Robin's face sobered, "I didn't do--anything." + +"Well, Dale says your going in to poor old Granny the way you did has +made everyone like you. And they were getting awfully worked up against +the Forsyths and the Mills. I will admit it seems funny to me--making +such a fuss over such a little thing. I wish--as long as you're all +right now--you had done something real heroic, like jumping into the +river to save someone or going into a burning building." + +"Oh, I'd have never had the courage to do _that_," protested Robin, +shuddering. + +At that moment the nurse put her head in the door. + +"Three minutes are up," she warned. + +"Please, can't she stay?" begged Robin, in alarm. + +"I must go home, anyway, Robin, to tell mother. You have no idea how +anxious she is--everyone is. People hang around our door. I suppose they +think we have the latest news about you. Well, we have, now. And, +Robin--mother was awfully angry about my--leaving you the way I did. She +begged me to come back, long ago. I'm sorry, now, I didn't. Good-bye, +Robin. I'll be back, tomorrow." + +Beryl walked to the village in a deep absorption of thought. Certain +values she had fostered had tumbled about and had to be put in order. +Here were not only hundreds of mill folk making a "fuss" over what Robin +had done, but the household of the Manor as well--old Budge, usually as +adamant as a brick wall, crying! No one loved the heroic more than +Beryl, but to her thinking it lay in a spectacular, and with a dramatic +indifference, risking one's own life for another, not in a little +unnecessary sentimental impulse. When she had heard of what Robin had +done she had declared her "crazy" to go near the Castles, to which her +mother had indignantly replied: "And are you thinking the blessed child +ever thinks of herself at all?" _That_ was the quality, of course, about +Robin that you never guessed from anything she said but that you just +felt. And the Mill people were feeling it now. + +Turning these thoughts over and over, Beryl suddenly faced the +disturbing conviction that she was moulding her own young life on very +opposite lines. Tell herself as often as she liked--and it was +often--that she'd had to fight to get everything she had and to keep it, +she knew that it never crossed her mind to ask herself what she was +giving--to Dale, who carried a double burden, to poor big Danny, to her +brave little mother who had sheltered her so valiantly from the +coarsening things about her that she might keep "fine" and have "fine" +things. + +The next day the nurse let Robin dress, to poor Harkness' tearful +delight. And Robin, roaming the house as though she had returned to it +from a long absence, found, indeed, the change she had prophesied. For +Mrs. Budge, in strangely genial mood, was fussily preparing more +delectable invalid dishes than a dozen convalescing Susies or well +Robins could possibly eat. + +One little cloud, however, shadowed Budge's relief. She wished she +hadn't sent the letter to the lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how my +grandmother always said to look out for the written word, and held my +tongue," she mourned and so complete was her transformation that she +forgot she had written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty to +the Forsyths--as she had seen it then. + +Upon this new order of things Cornelius Allendyce arrived, unheralded, +and very tired from a long journey. Budge's letter had been forwarded to +him at Miami where he had been pleasantly recuperating from his siege of +sciatica. It had disturbed him tremendously, and he had spent the long +hours on the railroad train upbraiding himself for his neglect of his +ward. The conditions at which Budge had clumsily hinted grew more +serious as he thought of them, until he found himself wondering if +perhaps he ought not to smuggle his little ward back to her fifth-floor +home before Madame discovered the havoc she had made of the Forsyth +traditions. + +Outwardly, the Manor appeared the same, to the lawyer's intense relief. +Within, the most startling change seemed the laughing voices that +floated out to him from the library. Harkness took his coat and hat and +bag a little excitedly and with repeated nods toward the library. + +"Miss Robin'll be mighty glad to see you, I'm sure; but she has a lydy +guest for dinner." + +"The man actually acts as though I had no right to come unannounced," +thought Cornelius Allendyce. + +Robin met him with a rush and a glad little cry. "I thought you were +never, _never_ coming! I'm so glad. But why didn't you send us word? I +want you to know Beryl's mother and Beryl. They're my best friends. And, +oh, I have _so_ much to tell you!" + +"Mrs. Lynch!" A line of Budge's letter flashed across the man's mind, +yet he found himself talking to a gentle-faced woman with grave eyes and +a tender, merry mouth. And Beryl (whom Budge had called "that young +person") did not seem at all coarse or unwholesome. He did not notice +that the clothes both wore were simple and inexpensive--he only +registered the impression that the mother seemed quiet and refined and +the girl had a frank honesty in her face that was most pleasing. + +Robin, indeed, had so much to tell him that he made no effort to get +"head or tail" to it; rather he lost himself in wonder at the change in +his little ward. This spirited, assured young person could not be the +same little thing he had left months ago. She'd actually grown, too. + +He laughed at Robin's description of the desertion of Percival Tubbs. + +"Poor man, I guess I'd driven him crazy, anyway. I simply couldn't learn +the lessons he gave me. But, oh, I haven't wasted my time, truly, for +I've gotten more out of these precious books here than I ever got out +of school. Guardian dear, _they've_ made me grow. I don't think my +pretend stories any more, either. I can't seem to, for everything about +me is so real and so big and so--so important." Robin imparted this +information with a serious note in her voice--as though she feared her +guardian might be sorry that she had put her childish "pretends" behind +her. + +"Dear me," he said, "then we won't know whether you meet the Prince in +the last chapter and live happily ever after? You _have_ grown up; I +can't get used to it." + +Robin blushed furiously at this and changed the subject lest her +guardian could glimpse under her flaming hair and guess the one pretty +"pretend" she still cherished. + +While the girls were upstairs Mrs. Lynch told Cornelius Allendyce the +story of Susy, and Robin's visit to the old house. She told it simply +but in its every detail so that Robin's guardian could follow it very +closely. He listened, with his eyes dropped to the rug at his feet, and +for a few moments he kept them there, so that Mrs. Lynch wondered if he +were angry. Then suddenly he looked at her and a smile broke over his +face. + +"Our little girl's letting down a few barriers, isn't she?" he asked, +and Mrs. Lynch, understanding him with her quick instinct, nodded with +bright eyes. + +"Ah, 'tis true as true what my old Father Murphy once said to me--that +wealth is what you give, not what you get!" + +The most amazing thing to the lawyer in the new order was the cheerful +importance, and the new geniality of Hannah Budge. Accustomed as he was, +from long acquaintance with the family, to her sour nature, he caught +himself watching her now in a sort of unbelief. He understood her +attentiveness to his comfort when she touched his arm and begged a word +with him. + +"It's about that letter," she whispered, her eyes rolling around for any +possible eavesdropper. "I'll ask you not to tell Miss Gordon nor Timothy +Harkness. I'm old and new ways are new ways but I'll serve Miss Gordon +as I've always served the Forsyths." + +A dignity in the old housekeeper's surrender touched Cornelius +Allendyce. He patted her shoulder and told her not to worry about the +letter; to be sure it had spoiled a rather nice golf match but he ought +to have run up to Wassumsic long before. + +"The little girl I found isn't such a bad Forsyth, after all?" he could +not resist asking her, however. But Harkness, appearing at that moment, +spared Mrs. Budge the unaccustomed humiliation of admitting she had been +wrong. + +After dinner Robin persuaded her guardian to walk with them to the +village while they escorted "Mother Lynch" home, and then stop at the +House of Laughter. There, Beryl lighted the lamps and Robin led a tour +of inspection through the rooms, telling her guardian as they went, of +her beautiful plans and their failure. At a warning sign from Beryl she +regretfully left out the generous contribution of their mysterious Queen +of Altruria. Most of the furniture, she explained, had come from the +Manor garrets. + +While they were talking a knock sounded at the door. Robin opened it to +find Sophie Mack and three companions standing on the threshold. + +"Mrs. Lynch said she thought you were up here," Sophie explained, +awkwardly. "We're getting up a social club and we want to know if you'll +let us meet here." + +"Of course you can meet here!" Robin made no effort to control the +surprise in her voice. "That's what this little house is for." + +"Maybe you'll join, sometime. As an honorary member or something like +that--" one of Sophie's companions broke in. + +"Oh, I'd love to." + +"We want to pay, you know," persisted Sophie. + +"Of course--anything you--think you can." + +The girls, refusing Robin's invitation to go into the cottage, turned +and went back to the village. Robin closed the door and leaned against +it with a long-drawn breath of delight. + +"Guardian dear, _that's_ the beginning. Dale's right--they'll use it, +if I let them pay. Why are you laughing at me?" + +Cornelius Allendyce's face sobered. He drew the girl to him. + +"I'm not laughing. I'm only marvelling at the leaps and bounds with +which your education has gone forward. Some people die at an old age +without acquiring one smallest part of the human understanding you are +learning through these--notions--of yours." + +Robin made a little face. "Notions! Beryl calls them 'crazy ideas.' +_Someone else_ called them an 'experiment.' Dear Mother Lynch is the +_only_ one who really believes in what I want to do. You see, I just +want the people here to think that a Forsyth cares whether they're happy +or not. Dale says I didn't start right and maybe I didn't--but +anyway--"--She nodded toward the door as though Sophie might still be on +the threshold, "_they're_ a beginning!" + +Her guardian did not answer this and looked so strange that Robin went +no further in her confidences. Perhaps something had displeased him, she +must wait until some other time to tell him about Dale and his model and +her visit to Frank Norris. + +Back in the library, before the crackling fire, Robin begged Beryl to +play for her guardian. + +"She's wonderful," she whispered while Beryl was getting the violin. +"She makes you feel all funny inside." + +Beryl stood in the shadow and played. Robin, watching her guardian, +thrilled with satisfaction when the man's face betrayed that he, too, +felt "all funny inside" under the magic of Beryl's bow. + +"Come here, my girl," he commanded when Beryl stopped. He bent a +searching look upon her. "Come here and sit down and tell me about +yourself." + +"Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, triumphantly. + +The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out Beryl's story--of the simple +home in the tenement from which her mother shut out all that was +coarsening and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her tastes with +dreams she persistently cherished against disheartening odds; of the +Belgian musician who had first taught her small fingers and fired her +ambitions for only the best in the art; of school and the lessons she +devoured because she craved knowledge and the advantages of possessing +it. + +"How long have you lived here?" + +"We came last summer. Dale wanted to work where there were machines and +he got a job in the Forsyth Mills." + +"You are planning to go back to New York and study?" + +Beryl's face clouded. "Sometime. But I can't until I earn the money, and +it takes such a lot." + +"Yes, and courage, too," added the lawyer softly, as though he were +speaking to himself. + +Beryl abruptly lifted her violin from her lap to put it in the case. As +she did so, its head caught in the string of green beads which, in +honor of the occasion, she was wearing. The slender cord that held them +snapped and the pretty beads scattered over the floor. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Beryl, dismayed, dropping to her knees to find them. + +Robin helped her search and in a few moments they had gathered them all. + +"They're only beads but they're very old and a keepsake," Beryl +explained, in apology for her moment's alarm. + +"They're pretty and they're darling on you!" + +"A wonderful color." The lawyer took one and examined it. "If you care +for them you'd better let me take them back to New York with me and have +them strung on a wire that will not break." + +"Oh, let him, Beryl. And he can have a good clasp put on. You know you +said that clasp was poor." + +Beryl hesitated a moment. Ought she to tell him the beads were her +mother's and that her mother prized them dearly? No, he might laugh at +anyone's caring a fig about just plain beads. She took the envelope +Robin brought her, dropped the beads into it, sealed it, and gave it to +Robin's guardian. + +Cornelius Allendyce slept little that night. He laid it to the extreme +quiet of the hills; in reality his head whirled with the amazing +impressions that had been forced upon him. + +"Extraordinary!" he muttered, staring at the night light. And he +repeated it again and again; once, when he thought of the little +woman, Mrs. Lynch, with the dreaming eyes which seemed to see beyond +things. What was the absurd thing she had said? "'Tis what you give and +not what you get is wealth." Extraordinary! And where had Robin picked +up these notions concerning the Mill people? And her House of +What-did-she-call-it? There was considerable significance about it. +Uncanny, downright uncanny, though, for a girl her age to have such a +far-reaching vision. Probably the child didn't realize, herself. Well, +there was Jeanne d'Arc, and others, too, he pondered, hazily. And this +talented girl Robin had found--a most unusual girl, who'd grown up in a +tenement like a flower among weeds, yes, he'd seen such flowers growing +amid rankest vegetation! She was not unlike Robin, herself. His mind +circled to Robin's own little fifth-floor nest and the horrible odors of +that dark stairway. Strange, extraordinary, that these two lives had +crossed. "This world's a queer world!" Both girls brought up in a +poverty that denied them all those jolly sort of advantages young girls +liked, and yet each sheltered by a mother's great love from the things +in poverty that coarsen and hurt. "Aye, a mother's love," and the little +lawyer thought of "Mother Lynch" with something very akin to reverence; +and of Jimmie, too, poor Jimmie, who, in his stumbling, mistaken way, +had tried to give a mother's love to Robin. + +But suddenly the man aroused from his absorbed philosophizing and sat +bolt upright in bed. All right to think about letting down +barriers--whose barriers were they? Proud old Madame loved those +barriers--and she'd never accept, as Budge had, what Budge called the +"new ways." What then? "There'll be a reckoning--" + +With a sharp little exclamation of annoyance the distraught guardian +drew his watch from under his pillow and held it to the tiny shaft of +light. "Half-past-one!" Well, he did not need to cross that bridge until +he came to it! He dug his tired head into his pillow and went to sleep +to dream of Madame Forsyth and Robin and Jeanne d'Arc sitting in a +social club at the House of Laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE GRANGER MILLS + + +"I really think, little Miss Robin, that you ought to go." + +"Why, I should think you'd be _crazy_ to go!" + +"If I may be so bold's to remind you, the man is waiting for an answer." + +Robin looked from her guardian's face to Beryl's to Harkness'. + +"You're all conspiring against me, I do believe!" she cried. "I'll go if +you say I ought to, but I just hate to. I don't want to meet the young +people, there. And I'm dreadfully afraid of Mrs. Granger since Susy +spoiled her dress." + +"Mrs. Granger was one of your Aunt Mathilde's closest friends--until the +death of young Christopher. Then, in the strange mood your aunt +encouraged, she let the intimacy drop. I've often wondered if the +Grangers did not resent that. You have an opportunity now, Robin, to +restore the old terms between the two families, so that when your--aunt +returns she will find the old tie awaiting her." + +Robin stared, wide-eyed, at her guardian. It was the first time he had +spoken of her aunt's return. + +"When is my aunt coming back? Do you know I never _think_ of her coming +back? Isn't that dreadful? I know she won't like me--" + +"Don't let's worry about that now," broke in Cornelius Allendyce with +suspicious haste. And Harkness, standing stiffly by the table, waiting +instructions, fell suddenly to rearranging the books and magazines which +had been in perfect order. + +Mrs. Granger's chauffeur had brought a note to the Manor asking Robin to +make them a few days' visit during the coming week. "My son and daughter +have some young people here and you will find it a lively change from +the quiet of your aunt's." + +Robin used her last argument. "But you've only been here for a few days, +guardian dear. And there's a _lot_ more I want to tell you--oh, that's +very important." + +"Can't it wait until I come again? I'd have to go back to New York +tomorrow, my dear, anyway. Come, this little visit of yours is as +necessary to your education as a Forsyth as any of Mr. Tubbs' tiresome +lessons. And then, as I said, you can win back my lady Granger's +affection." + +"Well, I'll go," cried Robin, in such a miserable voice that Beryl gave +her a little shake. + +Beryl saw in the visit all kinds of adventure. First, Robin must keep +her eyes open and determine whether Miss Alicia Granger still mourned +for young Christopher or whether she was faithless to his memory. Then +there'd be the young people, probably from New York, with all kinds of +new clothes and new slang and new stories of that happy whirl in which +Beryl fancied all young people of wealth lived. And then there was the +son, Tom. And Robin could wear the white and silver georgette dress. + +"I wish it were you going instead of me," Robin mourned, not at all +encouraged by Beryl's enthusiasm. "You're so tall and pretty, Beryl, and +can always think of things to say." + +There shone, however, one bright ray in all the gloom--the Granger home, +Harkness had said, was only a mile from the Granger Mills. Adam Kraus +and Dale had spoken of the Granger Mills as though they were almost +perfect. She wanted to see them, at least, on the outside. + +With a heart so heavy that she scarcely noticed the sheen of soft green +with which the early spring had dressed the hills, Robin arrived at +Wyckham, the Granger home, at tea time. She was only conscious of a +wide, low door, level with the bricked terrace, flanked by stone seats; +that this door opened and revealed a circle of merry-voiced young people +gathered around a great fireplace. As the impressive under-butler took +her bags from Williams one of the group rose quickly and came toward +her. She was very tall and slender with an oval-shaped face and a +prominent nose like Mrs. Granger's. Robin knew she was Miss Alicia. She +answered something unintelligible to Miss Alicia's informal greeting and +let herself be drawn into the circle. + +There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere from sixteen to +twenty--three very pretty, obviously conscious of their modish garments +and wanting everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, Rosalyn +Crane, tall and tanned and strong in limb and shoulder, with frank dark +eyes and red lips which smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-white +teeth. Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and promptly +tucked Robin under her wing. + +For the next several hours life moved forward for Robin at such a +dizzying pace that she felt as though she were sitting apart from her +body and watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had never dreamed +of doing before; the noisy tea-circle, the room she shared with the nice +girl, the casual welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silver +dress and the silver slippers that matched, the beautiful drawing room +so alive with color and jollity, the long table gleaming with crystal +and silver, the voices, voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shoulders +and the bright eyes and the red, red cheeks, the Japanese servants, +velvet-footed, the big, hot-house strawberries, music and dancing, +(everyone dancing but her) and then, at last, bed. + +Out of the whirl stood two pleasant moments: one when Mr. Granger had +spoken to her, the other--Tom. + +Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed with fine lines that +curved up when he smiled. He patted her on the shoulder and said: "A +Forsyth girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. And she was +not afraid of him and answered easily and not in the tongue-tied way she +spoke to Miss Alicia and her friends. + +And Tom Granger looked like his father. He had a jolly way of talking, +too, and talked mostly to Rosalyn Crane. He had sat between her and +Robin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite comfortable by acting as +though they were old acquaintances and did not need to keep up a fire of +banter like the others. + +The next morning Robin came downstairs to find the house deserted except +for the noiseless butlers who stared at her as though she were some +strange freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for Tom, coming in +from the garage, greeted her with a pleasant: "Say, you're an early +bird, aren't you?" and then directed one of the butlers to bring her +some breakfast in the sun-room. + +"_You've_ got some sense. Al's crowd will miss half of this glorious +day!" he commented, leading Robin into a glass-enclosed room, in the +centre of which splashed a jolly fountain. + +Tom sat with her while she ate the breakfast the Jap brought on a +lacquered tray. He kept up a fire of breezy talk just as though she were +the nice Rosalyn Crane. It was mostly about the baseball nine at +Hotchkiss, of which he was manager, and the new golf holes and an +inter-school swimming match and such things, concerning which poor +Robin knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that Robin did not +feel in the least shy or awkward. + +"Say, don't you want to go with me while I try out my new car? The road +toward Cornwall is good and I've bet that I can get her up to sixty. +Great morning, too. Are you game?" + +Robin felt game for anything that would take her away from Miss Alicia's +friends--except Rosalyn. Tom took her back to the garage and tucked her +into half of the low seat and climbed in beside her. + +For the next two hours they tore back and forth over the Cornwall road +at a pace that caught Robin's breath in her throat. Occasionally Tom +talked, but most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes on the +road ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, as though the innocent +stretch of macadam was prey for his vengeance. + +Just outside of the town he slowed the car down to a snail's pace. + +"Some baby, isn't she?" he asked and at Robin's perplexed eyes he went +off into rollicking laughter. "Why she _eats_ the road! Dad said I +couldn't get it out of her. I'll tell the world. Whew!" + +Robin sat forward, suddenly alert. + +"Are those the Mills?" + +"Yep." + +They were not so very unlike the Forsyth Mills--brick walls, dust, dirt, +smoke, towering chimneys, and noise, noise. But beyond them and the +river were rows of neat little white cottages, each with a yard, already +green. + +"Best mills in New England. But Dad's prouder of his model village--as +Mother calls those cottages over there--than of his profit sheet. And +look at the school--Dad wanted a school good enough for his own son and +daughter, but Mother wouldn't let us go. I wish she had--I'll bet +there's enough good batting material right in this town to whip every +nine in this part of the country. There's Dad's library, too--" + +But Robin did not heed the direction of his nod. She had suddenly seen +something that made her heart leap into her throat; Adam Kraus walking +into the office building carrying the square box with the leather +handles, which she knew contained Dale's model. He was taking it to Mr. +Granger. + +A panic gripped Robin. She must do something to save that model for the +Forsyth Mills--she did not know just what, but _something_-- + +"Stop, oh, stop. Couldn't I see your--father? I'd _like_ to." + +Tom looked puzzled, but good-naturedly turned the car. Robin climbed out +with amazing speed. + +"Take me to his office, oh, _please_ take me," she begged, with such +earnestness that Tom wondered if she'd gone "clean dotty." + +Inside the office building there was no sign of Adam Kraus, for the +reason, though Robin did not know it, that it was his second visit; he +was there by appointment, and he had used a stairway that led directly +to Mr. Granger's office, while Tom took Robin through the main office +where a neatly dressed girl blocked their way. + +Mr. Granger was busy but the young lady could wait, this efficient young +person informed them, quite indifferent to the fact that she addressed +Thomas Granger and Gordon Forsyth. And Robin walked into an enclosure, +half consulting room, half waiting room, and sat down with fast beating +heart, upon a leather and mahogany chair. + +"I'll wait out here 'til you see Dad," Tom told her, to her relief, and +she heard him telling one of the clerks how his "baby" could make sixty +as easy-- + +Suddenly Robin took in other voices, one deep, one soft and drawling. A +door at the end of the room stood half-open. She leaned toward it, +alertly listening. + +"And you say this invention is your own, Kraus? Have you your patents?" + +"My applications have all gone in and I have some of the patents. Yes, +sir, it's my own." + +"Doran reported very favorably. With one or two changes--suppose we find +Doran, now." There came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, the +model will be quite safe here. I want Doran to point out one or two +things on our new loom. It will only take a moment. Then we'll bring +him back here." + +Oh, would they come out through the waiting-room--thought Robin, +shrinking back. And what had Adam Kraus said? + +But Mr. Granger had opened another door--Robin heard it close. She +stepped noiselessly toward that half-open door at the end of the room. +Her head was clear, her heart atingle. + +He, Adam Kraus, had _dared_ to say the invention was his! The wicked +man, the traitor--to betray Dale's trust, his friendship! + +The office was quite empty. And on the big desk, amid a litter of papers +and letters and books and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsy +box. + +Robin caught it up and held it close to her, defiantly. She snatched a +pencil and scrawled a few lines on the back of an envelope, then she +tiptoed out into the consulting office and on through the main office. +Tom was waiting at the end of the room. It seemed to Robin as though +hundreds of eyes accused her; in reality only a few lifted from the work +of the day to stare at the young girl Tom Granger had brought to see his +father. And if anyone wondered why she carried the queer box, no one of +them was likely to presume to question any friend of the Grangers. + +"Did y'see Dad?" But Tom, to Robin's relief, took that for granted and +turned back to his acquaintance among the clerks. + +"I'll take you out with me and _prove_ it to you!" + +Robin wanted to beg Tom to run but she did not dare. He asked to carry +the box and she let him, for fear, if she refused, he might suspect +something. Queer shivers raced up and down her spine and a dreadful +sinking feeling attacked her heart and dragged at her throat so that she +could scarcely speak. + +He helped her into the car and climbed in himself. He leisurely +experimented with the gears, until Robin almost screamed in her anxiety. +Then just as he started the motor, a shout hailed them from the office +door, and both turned to see Adam Kraus tearing down the steps +bareheaded, wildly waving his arms, followed by a half-dozen clerks and +Mr. Granger, himself. + +"Go! _Go!_" implored Robin, catching his arm, and so frightened rang her +voice that Tom instinctively obeyed and stepped on the accelerator with +such force that the car shot forward. "Oh, _faster! Faster!_" she +sobbed. "_He's coming._" A backward glance had told her that Adam Kraus +intended to give chase; still bareheaded, he had jumped into a Ford +standing in the road. + +"Well, I don't know what we're running away from, but my baby can give +anything on wheels a good go-by!" laughed Tom, his eyes keen. He leaned +over the wheel, his face fixed on the road with its "eat-her-up" +tensity. + +They turned into the Cornwall road. At a rise Robin saw the other car +with its bareheaded driver tearing after them. + +"Oh, he's coming," she moaned, sinking down into the seat. + +"Say, Miss Forsyth----I'm keen----on--running----away--but +what--the--deuce--from? Who's that----fellow----following--us----why are +you----afraid?" He flung the words jerkily, sideways, at Robin. + +"I'll tell you--afterwards," Robin gasped back. The wind whistled past +her, she lost her hat. She crouched in her seat, her hands clinging +tightly to the box, her head turned as though expecting their pursuer to +overtake them any moment. + +Suddenly Tom frowned. At the same time the engine gave a grating +"b-r-r-r." + +"Oh, what is it?" + +"Oil's getting low----Bad----" she caught in answer. "Pulling +some----I'll----fool him, though--" He slowed down. + +"Don't--" implored Robin. + +"We'll turn down this road. _He'll_ go straight on. Clever, eh? Say, I +wouldn't have guessed you had all this spunk in you!" he took the time +to say, casting her an admiring glance. + +He made the turn and the "baby" ploughed through the soft rough road at +a perilous clip. The road wound through thickly wooded hills, up and +down, apparently leading to nowhere. + +Suddenly it twisted up a long hill. Tom's car climbed easily, slackening +its speed for a few moments at the top. Turning, Robin could make out +the course over which they had come and, to her horror, the little car +plunging over it. + +"Look--_look!_" she cried. + +"Well, I'll be--blowed!" Tom Granger stared as though he could not +believe his eyes. "He saw the marks of my new tires, I guess. He's a +sharp one. Cheer up--we're not caught yet." He increased the speed; they +tore down the slope in breakneck haste. + +But, in the hollow, the car slopped out of the muddy ruts, gave a +sickening lurch sidewise and dropped with a jolt into mud to the axles. + +His face white with excitement Tom Granger tore at the gears, tried to +go back, to go forward, but in vain. And, presently, they both heard the +distant throb of a motor. + +Robin jumped down from the car, hugging her box. "I'll run. Good-bye, +Tom, thank you _so_ much!" She was far too excited to realize the +familiar way in which she had addressed him. She had cleared the ditch +and stood on the fringe of the deep woods. + +"I'll tell you sometime--about it!" she flung to him. +"I'm--not--stealing! That man--will know--" and she disappeared among +the leafing undergrowth. + +"Well, I'll--be--Oh, I _say_, Miss Forsyth, don't--" But the boy's +attention, quite naturally, turned to meet the enemy, who at that moment +appeared over the crest of the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE GREEN BEADS + + +Beryl waved Robin off to the Granger's with a forced cheerfulness. Left +alone, she sat in the room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily at +the disarray left from the frenzied packing and unpacking. + +Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people with +two bags full of lovely clothes would ever, _ever_ happen to her! + +In fact _nothing_ exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and on +wanting things all her life. + +She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envy +her, but she wished she could have just _some_ of the chances Robin +had--and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one of +Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham and +hold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughty +Alicia had no terrors for _her_, and if they tried to snub her, she'd +put her violin under her chin and then-- + +The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Beryl +heard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed the +stairs and stopped outside of Robin's room. + +"Miss Beryl--a telegram." + +"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her life +and the yellow envelope frightened her. + +"The boy said as to sign here." + +Beryl wrote her name mechanically in letters that zigzagged crazily. +Harkness lingered while she tore open the envelope, concern struggling +with curiosity on his face. + +"It's from Robin's guardian. He--he wants--oh, Harkness, am I reading +_right_? He says I must come to New York at _once_--tonight, if I can. +He'll meet me--it's _extremely_ important. Why, Harkness, what in the +world has happened? It doesn't sound awful, does it? Did you ever know +of anything so mysterious in your life?" + +Harkness never had. He read the telegram with brows drawn together. + +"Mebbe they left out something," he suggested, turning the sheet and +scrutinizing its back. + +"Well, I'll _have_ to go." Beryl's voice betrayed her deep excitement. +"I _can_ catch the evening train. Oh, Harkness, how often I've watched +that go out and wished I was on it! And now I'm going to be. I'm going +to New York! Harkness, be a _dear_ and hurry some dinner, will you? I'll +pack. And oh, will you take a note to mother for me? I'll not have time +to stop. Or wait--I won't tell her I'm going until I know what it's +for--she'd worry. Isn't that best?" + +"Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, don't you fret. And +Joe'll take you down to the station in the truck, he will, for like as +not he'll be meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who lives +Boston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife--" + +"Oh, that'll be _nice_. But please hurry, Harkness. That boy's waiting +for his book. And I can't think." + +Two hours later Beryl sat upright on the plush seat of the evening +train, her old suitcase at her feet packed with every garment she +possessed. + +"This is more fun than all your old house-parties," she apostrophized +the black square of window, which dimly reflected her glowing face. Then +she lost herself in a delicious "I wonder" as to why she had been +summoned so mysteriously to New York. + +Cornelius Allendyce and Miss Effie met her at the end of her wonderful +journey, no part of which had wearied her in the least, and their +smiling faces put at rest the tiny misgiving that had persisted that she +might be walking into some sort of a scheme to separate her from Robin. + +"I am glad you got my telegram in time to catch tonight's train. I've +made an important appointment for you tomorrow morning with a friend of +mine." But not another word concerning the mystery would the lawyer say. +Both he and his sister went about with a queer smile, and treated Beryl +as fond (and rich) parents might a good child on Christmas Eve. + +The next morning Miss Effie started the two of them off for the +"appointment" with a fluttery excitement bordering on hysteria. + +"You'll think, my dear, you've rubbed Aladdin's lamp," she whispered to +Beryl, patting down the neat white collar of Beryl's coat. + +Beryl thought of her words when she followed Mr. Allendyce through a +long dim room, crowded with treasures of fabric and ceramic, rich in +coloring, fragrant of oriental perfumes. + +"He's a collector," Cornelius Allendyce explained, nodding sideways and +hurrying on to a room in the back, as though their errand had nothing to +do with the curious things about them. + +"Ah, there, Eugene, we're here! Miss Lynch, this is Eugene Dominez, +known to two continents as that rare specimen, an honest collector; to +me, the only man I can't beat at chess!" + +A very small man rose from a great carved chair. He had a thin, leathery +face with an exaggerated nose, stretched out as though from sniffing for +curios in dusty dim corners. When he smiled his eyes shut and his mouth +twisted until he looked like a jolly little gnome. + +"Ah-ha! You admit you cannot beat me!" He spoke with a soft accent. "And +this is the little lady who owns the green beads." And he peered closely +at Beryl. + +The green beads! She had not thought of them once. + +"Sit down. Sit down. I will ask you to tell me a story. Then I will tell +_you_ a story. First, my dear young lady, tell me where you found the +beads?" As he spoke, he drew open a drawer, and took from it the +envelope Robin had given to her guardian. + +Beryl answered briefly, for the simple reason that she found difficulty +managing her tongue. + +"An--an old priest--back in Ireland--gave them--to us. He'd found them +in an antique shop in London." + +"Ah, so! Just so! So! So!" crowed the gnome-like man, jumping up and +down in his great chair. "Now I will tell _you_ a story." + +"Once upon a time, as you say, a beautiful Queen of the fifteenth +century, while travelling through a forest, came upon a roving band of +gypsies. So great was her beauty that the gypsy chief gave to her a +necklace of precious jade, upon each bead of which had been tooled a +crown, so infinitesimal as to be seen only through a strong lens. The +chief told the fair Queen that the necklace brought good fortune to +whosoever possessed it. But so proud was the young Queen of the precious +beads and the good fortune that was to be hers that she boasted of them +to her Court and aroused the envy of many until a knave among her +courtiers stole them from her. For generations these beads, the +workmanship of a Magyar artisan, have passed from owner to owner, +always mysteriously, for, because of the good fortune they had power to +bestow, no one parted with them except from the most dire necessity, and +only lost them through theft. Ah," he held up one of the glowing green +globes, "the stories they could tell of greed and dishonor and cunning! +The lies that have been told for them! And an old priest found them at +last! It is many years since there has been any trace." He stared at +Beryl as though to see through her into the past. Then he roused quickly +and shook his shoulders. "They have hung about the necks of crowned +people, good people--and wicked people. Perhaps they have brought good +fortune--as the Magyar chieftain said they would. Who knows? You, my +dear--you are a girl with a sensible head on a pair of straight +shoulders--tell me, do you care more for the superstition of this +necklace--than for the money I will pay you for it--say, fifteen +thousand dollars?" + +Beryl stood up so suddenly that her chair tumbled backward, making a +crashing noise in the subdued stillness of the little room. + +"Are you joking?" she asked in a queer, choky voice. + +"No, he is not joking. And I told you he is known the world over as an +honest collector," broke in Cornelius Allendyce. + +"Fifteen--thousand--dollars! Why, that's an _awfully_ big amount, isn't +it?" Beryl appealed helplessly to the lawyer. "Why--of _course_ I'll +sell it--if you're sure it's what you think it is. I--I don't want--" + +The little collector handed her one of the beads and a strong magnifying +glass. "Look!" he commanded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, she +made out a tiny crown. + +She laughed hysterically. "I see it! I thought that was a scratch. I +never noticed it was on every one. Oh, how queer! A queen wore these!" +She rolled the bead slowly in the palm of her hand. Then she handed it +back. "But I'd much rather have the money than the beads even if a dozen +queens wore them." Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the exotic +atmosphere of the room. + +"I explained to Mr. Dominez your situation--and your ambition," +Cornelius Allendyce put in almost apologetically. + +"Mr. Allendyce will represent you in this deal, Miss Lynch, if you care +to think the sale over. However, I am giving you a final offer. You are +young and--" + +Beryl reached out both hands with childish impulsiveness. "Oh, I want +the money _now!_ I want to spend it. I want--oh, you don't _know_ all I +want--" She stopped abruptly, confused by the smiles on both men's +faces. + +"Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment in cash and the rest I will +deposit in the bank to your credit," explained Cornelius Allendyce. +"You need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear; fortune like +this does not come often to anyone. It's hard, indeed, not to believe +that the little beads _have_ magic." + +"I'm dreaming. I'm just _plain dreaming_ and I'll wake up in a minute +and find I'm Beryl Lynch, poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself as +she followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of the street. She +felt of her bulging pocketbook, into which she had put the roll of bills +the little collector had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardian +had counted over, quite seriously. It felt real but it just _couldn't_ +be true-- + +"Now where, my dear? You ought to make this day one you'll never +forget." + +"Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? Oh, then--then--can I go to +see Jacques Henri and tell him? I know the way--I can take the Ninth +Avenue Elevated--or--Would it be _very_ foolish if I took a taxi?" Beryl +colored furiously. + +"Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the taxi and keep it there to +return to my house; then you and Miss Effie put your heads together and +decide just what you want to do first with your money." + +Beryl rejoiced that it was a nice shiny taxi, quite like a real lady's +car. She sniffed delightedly the leathery smell, sat bolt upright with +her chin in the air. + +"Go straight down Fifth Avenue," she instructed the driver. + +Spring, with its eternal sorcery, caressed the great city. Its spell +threw a sheen over the drab things Beryl remembered so well, the brick +schoolhouse, the Settlement, the dirty narrow street flanked by +dull-brown tenements with their endless fire escapes mounting higher and +higher, hung now with bedding of every color. The street swarmed with +children returning from school, and they gathered about the automobile +climbing on to the running board on either side and peering through the +windows. + +"It's the Lynch girl," someone cried and another answered jeeringly. + +"Aw, git off! Wot she doin' in this swell autymobile?" + +Beryl did not mind in the least the street urchins; even though she had +lived among them, neither she nor Dale had ever been of them, thanks to +her mother's watchful care. She smiled at them and fled into the dark +alley way that led to the court which, all through her childhood, had +been her playground. + +As she climbed, a dreadful thought appalled her. What if dear old +Jacques Henri had moved away--or died! But, no, at the very moment she +let the fear halt her climbing step she heard the dear sound of his +violin. She crept to his door and softly opened it. + +The old man stood near his window, through which he could see a slit of +blue sky between two walls. On the sill were the pink geraniums he +nursed through winter and summer, their pinkness brightening the gloom +of the bare, dim room. Jacques Henri called them his family. + +"Jacques Henri!" Beryl ran to him and threw her strong arms about him. + +"Hold! Let me look. My girl? Ah, do my old eyes tell me false things? +No, it's my little Beryl!" + +Beryl took his violin from him, kissed its strings lightly and laid it +carefully upon the table. Then she pushed the startled old man back into +the one comfortable chair and perched herself upon its arm. + +"Listen, dear Jacques Henri, and I'll tell you the strangest story that +you ever heard--about Queens and gypsies and green beads and a girl you +know. Don't say _one_ word until I'm through." And Beryl told in all its +wonderful detail, the happenings of the morning. + +"And don't you see what it means? I can begin to study at _once_! Right +this minute! And, _oh_, how I'll work and practice and learn until--" + +She caught up the old man's violin and its bow and drew it across the +strings. + +"Play!" commanded Jacques Henri, without so much as a word for the +Aladdin-lamp tale she had told him. + +Beryl played and as she played she wished with all her might she could +summon the power that had been hers on Christmas night. She wanted to +play for Jacques Henri as she had played then. But she could not. + +"Stop!" + +Beryl laid the violin down. + +The old man scowled at her until she shifted nervously under his +searching eyes. + +"Your fingers--they are clever, your ear is true--but there is +nothing--of _you_--in what you play! Do you know what I mean?" + +He did not wait for Beryl to answer; he went on, with a shake of his +great head and his eyes still fixed upon her. + +"You come to me and tell me your good fortune and what you will do; how +_you_ can study and _you_ can work and _you_ can learn to make good +music--and you have no word for what that money will mean to your saint +of a mother--aye, the best woman God ever made! Shame to you, selfish +girl, that you should put your ambition before her dreams!" + +The color dyed Beryl's face. "I never thought--" she muttered, then +stopped abruptly, ashamed of her own admission. + +"No, you never thought! Do you ever think much beyond yourself?" Then, +afraid that he had spoken too harshly, he laid his hand affectionately +upon Beryl's shoulder. "But you are young, my dear, and youth is +careless. Jacques Henri knows that there is good in you--my eyes are +wise and I can see into your heart. It is an honest little heart--you +will heed in time. Ambition is a greedy thing--watch out that you keep +it in your clever head and do not let it wrap its hard sinews about your +heart, crushing all that is beautiful there. Listen to me, child; think +you that your music can reach into the souls of people if you do not +feel that music in your own good soul? Your fingers may be clever and +your body strong, but your music will be cold, cold, if the heart inside +you is a little, cold, mean thing! Many's the one, I grant you, content +to feed the passing plaudits of the crowd, but not the master--he must +go further, he must give of himself to all that they may carry something +beautiful of his gift away in their hearts. _That_ is the master. _That_ +is music." + +Beryl, always so ready in self-defense, stood mute before the old man's +charge. She had been scolded too often by this dear recluse to resent +it; she had, too, faith in anything he might say. + +Then: "You just ought to know Robin," she burst out, irrelevantly, eager +that her old teacher should believe that, even though she might be a +selfish, thoughtless girl herself, she could recognize and respect the +good qualities in others. + +"Forgive your old friend if he has hurt you. Go now to your blessed +mother and lay your good fortune at her feet. That I might see her +face!" + +"And if she wants to use--_some_ of the money, will you help me?" asked +Beryl, in a meek voice. + +"Ah, most surely. And proudly." + +Beryl rode back to Miss Erne's in a contritely humble mood. + +"I wish there were some sort of medicine one could take to make them +better inside their hearts! I wouldn't care _how_ nasty it tasted," she +mourned, impatient at the long, hard climb that must be hers if she ever +made of herself what her Jacques Henri wanted. + +All of Miss Effie's coaxing could not keep Beryl from taking the +afternoon train to Wassumsic. + +"I must tell my mother about the beads--at once!" she answered, firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +ROBIN'S RESCUE + + +Just as the shrill of the train whistle echoed through the little +valley, Moira Lynch set her lighted lamp in the window. She did not sing +tonight as she performed the customary ceremony, nor had she for many +nights. Her throat seemed too tired, her arms dropped with the weight of +her lamp, a dull little pain at the back of her neck gripped her with a +pulling clutch. + +The doctor had told her she was "tired out." She had gone to him very +secretly, lest Dale or big Danny should know and worry. But even to be +"just tired out" was very terrifying to Mother Moira--if her arms and +head and heart failed, who would take care of big Danny and keep a +little home for Dale and watch over Beryl? + +With her habitual optimism she tried to laugh away her alarm, but the +pulling ache persisted and her arms trembled under tasks that before had +seemed as nothing. She told herself that it was all her own fault that +her big Danny seemed harder to please, but when, under a particularly +trying moment, she broke down and cried, she knew she was reaching the +end of her endurance. + +"Did the train stop?" queried big Danny. + +"Sure and it did!" cried Mrs. Moira, trying to throw excitement into +her voice to please the invalid man. Big Danny took childish pleasure in +listening for the incoming and New York-bound trains. + +"What's keeping Dale? Prob'bly hanging 'round the Inn!" + +Mrs. Moira smothered the quick retort that sprang to her lips in defense +of her boy. + +"He'll be here any minute," she said instead, comfortingly. "There he is +now!" Her quick ear had caught a step outside. + +Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted them. Suppressed +excitement, impatience, eagerness, an inward disgust of herself for +being a "selfish thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such an +unnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression that big Danny +whirled his chair toward her and Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over her +heart. + +"Beryl?" she cried, standing quite still. + +Beryl walked to her and very quietly gathered her into her young arms. + +"Don't look so scared, Mom, dear. Oh, _don't_ cry! Why, I'm near crying +myself! After I've told you all that has happened I shall just _bawl_. +I'm too dreadfully happy. Sit down here, Mom, and hold my hand tight. +Wait--I must take my things off first." + +In a twinkling she had her stage "set" for her surprise. Strangely +stirred herself, she had to gulp once or twice before she could begin +her story. It was difficult to keep it coherent, too, because Mrs. +Moira interrupted her so often with little unnecessary questions. + +"Did you really go to New York?" + +"And 'twas all night you stayed at the Allendyces themselves?" + +Because of her mother's agitation, Beryl abandoned the details with +which she had planned to lead up to the great surprise. She plunged +abruptly to the point of the story. + +"Those beads. They _weren't_ just plain beads. They were a precious +necklace made by some queer people, ages and ages ago. _Queens_ have +worn 'em and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from hand to +hand--I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck--for all these years and +then, suddenly, no one could find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend--the +collector--gave me _this money_ outright for them and--" + +Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She stood erect, her eyes +flashing, her fingers working in and out, her lips trembling. + +"You sold my--_you sold my beads!_ Beryl Lynch, how _dared_ you. +My--my--" + +Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for sheer amazement. + +"My beads! They--were--the last--thing--I--had that +held--me--to--my--dreams." Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisper +that hurt Beryl to the soul. + +"Mother! Mother, _please_ don't. It isn't too late. I can get them +back. I didn't know you cared, don't you see?" + +Beryl of course did not know about the pulling ache at the back of +Mother Moira's neck or she would have understood that her mother's +hysteria was due partly to that. She had never seen her mother look so +queer and old and pale and it frightened her. + +Mrs. Lynch crossed the room until she stood behind Danny's chair. +Involuntarily her hand moved to his shoulder. + +"No, you wouldn't know. It isn't your fault. Of course it's just beads +they were, but they belonged to the young part of me when my heart was +that light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong that it hurt the +inside of me. And nothing in this world was too fine for the likes of my +Danny and me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking. And then +when the clouds come--" her hand pressed big Danny's shoulder ever so +lightly, "I told myself the dreams were my own and no one could _take +them_ away from me and if I couldn't make them come true, as true for +himself and me, sure, I'd keep them for my boy and girl. And 'twas the +beads were like a dear voice out of the past telling me to be strong, +for Father Murphy, with the saints in Heaven now, God rest him, gave +them to me himself with his blessing and saying might my dreams come +true! Ah, well--sure it's a punishment, maybe, for me wanting things +just for my own--" + +"Mother!" broke in Beryl, sternly. "As if you could be punished for +anything! Will you tell me one thing? Which would you rather have--those +beads--or--or--a nice little farm in the hills with a cow and chickens +and pigs and a little orchard and--and a Ford--and a girl to do the +cooking so's you could stay with Pop, and Dale studying engineering in +some college, if he wanted to, and me--" + +"Beryl Lynch, are ye crazy?" cried big Danny, suspecting that the girl +was in someway trying to mock her mother. + +"_No_, I'm not crazy, though I ought to be, with old Jacques Henri +scolding me and now mother--" She bit her lip childishly. "Will you +please just answer me, mother?" + +"A farm--with a garden--and a cow--and trees and a good stretch of the +green meadow--ah, sure I'd think it a bit of Heaven." + +"Mother, you can have it! You can have it!" Beryl rushed to and knelt by +big Danny's chair. "That's what I was trying to tell you. That man will +give you fifteen thousand dollars for those beads! Really, truly. See, +he gave me all this money today. And Mr. Allendyce will put the rest in +the bank. Oh, I know it's hard to believe but it's true. You can ask Mr. +Allendyce." + +Big Danny, with trembling hands, took the roll of bills from Beryl's +purse. They were undisputable proof of her story. + +"Moira girl, 'tis true!" Big Danny's voice trembled. + +"'Tis Father Murphy's blessing," whispered Mrs. Lynch, a strange light +in her eyes. "May I be worthy of it!" Then she roused and laughed, a +tinkling laugh. "Ah--my girl shall have her music, now! Oh, it's too +wonderful." + +"Where's Dale?" cried Beryl, her heart jubilant that the unexpected +crisis had passed. "Won't he be surprised?" + +"What ever can be keeping the boy? 'Tis long past the hour." + +"Now, mother, don't you begin a-worrying. Dale's old enough to look +after himself." + +"It's a fussing old hen I am, as true as true!" And because once more +her heart was so light inside of her that it hurt, she kissed her big +Danny on the top of his head. + +"I wish Dale would come. I ought to go back to the Manor. Harkness is +probably worrying his head off over my strange visit to New York." + +But Harkness had other things to worry about. + +Dale burst in upon his family just a few moments after Beryl had spoken +but she did not tell her story. He gave her no opportunity. + +"Gordon Forsyth's lost!" + +"_Lost?_" + +"Yes. Somewhere in the woods between Cornwall and South Falls. Strangest +thing you ever heard. She made young Tom Granger run off with +her--goodness knows where they were headed for, and when his car went +into the ditch she made a dash for the woods and that's the last +anyone's seen of her." + +"Why, Dale, she couldn't--" cried Beryl. + +"Couldn't? Easiest thing in the world. Woods are thick and miles deep +through there." + +"I mean she couldn't be running off with Tom Granger. Why, she never met +him until yesterday--" + +"Well, it wasn't exactly _with_ him but she made him, _take_ her off. +She was running away from some one. Granger's been over here talking to +Norris. They called me in. Seems Kraus had taken my model to sell to +Granger, and called it his own, and Miss Gordon heard him. And she just +walked in when they weren't in the room and--took it. Granger wouldn't +say any more. He's too worried. What I think is that Kraus chased +them--Miss Gordon and Tom Granger--" + +"How _thrilling! What_ an adventure," exclaimed Beryl, her eyes shining. +Oh, exciting things _were_ happening! + +"Thrilling! Won't be thrilling if anything's happened to the kid. It's +four hours now and Granger's had a bunch of men hunting ever since his +son walked into the office and gave the alarm. Can you give me a bite in +a hurry, Mom? The Manor car's going to take six of us over to meet young +Granger and make a thorough search." + +"But it's tired to death you look now, Dale. Can't--" + +"I'm not tired--just bothered. Mom, I hate to think of that little thing +getting into this fix just for my model. Granger was awfully decent +about the thing; told Norris he was a fool not to jump at it. He said he +had some sort of a note Miss Robin had left and it seemed to amuse him, +but he didn't offer to show it. It isn't only because she's a Forsyth I +care, but she's such a square little thing. Hurry up, please, Mom, +Williams may stop any moment." + +"_I_ ought to go up to the Manor. They must be in an awful state." + +"Wait, as soon as ever I can fix your father I'll go with you myself," +cried Mrs. Lynch. + + * * * * * + +Toward noon of the next day, in answer to an urgent telegram, Cornelius +Allendyce arrived at the Manor, having come down from New York by motor. +Just as he was gulping down the coffee Harkness had brought to him, Mr. +Granger, Senior, was ushered in. + +The men knew one another well. They shook hands, then Cornelius +Allendyce motioned him to a chair opposite him at the table. + +The lawyer only needed to look at the other man's face to know that he +brought no good news. + +"Tom telephoned from Cornwall at six o'clock. Not a sign. Not so much as +a red hair! Strangest thing I ever heard of. They're going to search +the ravines today--easy enough for her to stumble into them if she was +frightened or hurrying. Then there's the kidnapping possibility!" + +"Improbable!" protested the lawyer. + +"Well, _nothing's_ improbable. You'd have said it wasn't to be thought +of that a youngster like that would run off with that model. I want to +give you the details of this whole matter--they'd be extremely +interesting if one were not so concerned." He told of his two interviews +with Adam Kraus and of Dale's invention. "A master contrivance. I can't +understand your man, here, letting it get away from him. Why, it's worth +a lot to me, but in these Mills--well, you may not know what I think of +your mills," he laughed. "I'll tell you another time. The girl saw this +Kraus go into my office, and persuaded my boy, who'd been taking her for +a ride, to stop. She was waiting in my outer office and heard Kraus +claim the invention as his own--scoundrel that he was--and when I took +Kraus to see my head foreman, didn't she walk in, help herself to the +model and leave me this." He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed +it to Cornelius Allendyce. "Read it." + + "This model is Dale Lynch's. I am taking it to him. When I see my + guardian, I shall make him buy it for the Forsyth Mills. + + GORDON FORSYTH." + +Cornelius Allendyce looked up from the bit of paper. He had suddenly +recalled the frightened little girl he had first brought to Gray Manor. + +"Who'd believe that the child had the nerve?" + +"That's what I said. Well, she ran off with it, Kraus gave chase, Tom +headed toward Cornwall, then switched off on an unimproved road and came +to grief. Just as Kraus was about to overtake them the child ran off +into the wood. Tom didn't have the vaguest idea what it was all about, +but he tried to head off Kraus and when Kraus started for the wood he +did a little wrestling trick that surprised the fellow, got him down, +tied him in the Ford and went himself in search of Miss Gordon. When he +came back after an hour's search he found Kraus and the Ford gone and he +walked back to South Falls. That's all." + +"That model may be worth a lot, but it is not worth another tragedy to +this house," groaned Cornelius Allendyce. + +"No. It is worth a good deal--but not--that much." + +A few moments' deep silence prevailed. Wrinkles of worry twisted the +lawyer's face. What a mess it all was, anyway--he had urged Robin to go +to the Granger's in hopes that she'd bring the two families into close +intimacy again and instead of that she had gotten herself into this fix. +If they found her safe and sound she ought to be spanked and taught to +keep her hands off the Mill affairs until she was older. But down in +his heart he knew this was only a vexatious expression of his +concern--you couldn't punish Robin for anything. + +"As her guardian I appreciate your alarm. I share it with you, not alone +because Miss Forsyth was a guest at my house but because I took a great +fancy to the child. It struck me, as I looked at her, that her coming to +Wassumsic--to the Manor, might change things, here, quite a bit." + +"It has--it will," mumbled Mr. Allendyce. For a moment, just to relieve +his feelings, he wondered if he might not confide in this very human man +the ordeal he must face with Madame Forsyth when his reckoning came. + +"My wife is prostrated with it all. She does not know the particulars +but she is deeply concerned. I do not like to add to your worry but do +you think there is any possibility that the child returned to the road, +and that Kraus, freed from Tom's rope, captured her and went off with +her?" + +"Why, every possibility in the world!" shouted Robin's guardian. "Why +did you hug that idea to yourself? We'll telephone the New York police. +He's sure to make straight for the city." + +Both men welcomed action. They rushed to the library and put in a long +distance call and then, while waiting, paced the room's length back and +forth. Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued his ear to the +crack in the door, hopeful for one crumb of comforting news. + +Below stairs Mrs. Budge, flatly refusing to believe that "Miss Robin" +could be lost just when she had learned to love her, beat up a cake for +her homecoming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into the batter. + +In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, who did not even have +the heart to play with Susy, sat with her nose against the window +watching the ribbon of road over which anyone would come if they came. +That was why she was the first of the Manor household to spy the +dilapidated Ford approaching, snorting up the incline. Something about +it made her think of the general dilapidation of the Forgotten Village. +It might be some word! She rushed down the stairs, two steps at a time, +past the startled Harkness, through the big front door. The +strange-looking car had turned into the Manor gate. A man with long +white whiskers was driving it. And yes, a bareheaded girl, who looked +like Robin, sat on the back seat. It _was_ Robin. Beryl waved her hand +wildly and Robin answered. But who rode with her? Beryl's flying feet +came to a quick halt. + +"As sure as I'm _alive_ it's the Queen of Altruria!" + +Turning, Beryl rushed back to the Manor. + +"Harkness! _Harkness!_" she cried, bursting in through the door. +"Robin's coming! She's _here!_ And she's brought the Queen of Altruria +with her! Oh, _what'll_ we do?" For surely some ceremony befitting +royalty should be prepared. + +"The Queen of _what_--" cried Mr. Granger and Cornelius Allendyce +rushing from the library. "Oh, the girl's _crazy_--" asserted the +lawyer. Nevertheless he ran to the door, followed by Mr. Granger and +Harkness and Beryl and Hannah Budge and Chloe, who had heard Beryl's +glad cry in the kitchen. + +At close range the dilapidated Ford looked even more dilapidated; Robin, +letting her royal companion talk terms of payment with the bewhiskered +scion of the Forgotten Village, clambered out the moment the car stopped +and fell into Beryl's arms. From their shelter, after the briefest +instant, she lifted her face to greet her guardian and found him staring +at the Queen in a sort of stupid unbelief. + +"I brought--" Robin started an introduction, but did not finish. For, +recovering, with an obvious effort, his natural manner of politeness, +her guardian was hurrying down the steps to the little car. + +"Madame Forsyth, I did not expect--" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME + + +"No. I judge from all your faces no one expected me!" exclaimed Madame +Forsyth coldly, extending to Cornelius Allendyce the tips of her +fingers. "Harkness, you look as though you were seeing a ghost!" + +Her rebuking words had the effect of galvanizing poor Harkness' limbs to +action--but not his tongue. Though he hobbled down the steps and took +the bag from the lawyer's hand, not a word could he speak from sheer +stupefaction. + +And Hannah Budge so forgot her long years of loyalty to the House of +Forsyth as to cry out--"Oh, Miss Robin!" before so much as one word of +greeting for Madame Forsyth. + +"You could 'a clean knocked me over," she explained to Harkness +afterward, "Our Madame going away as fine as you please with that +baggage of a Florrie who was as full of tricks as a cat after a mouse, +and coming back in that old car that had moss on it, I do believe, and +with Miss Robin, too, who they all thought was lost though _I_ knew +better. Something _told_ me to beat up that cake yesterday!" + +"And Miss Robin didn't know Madame was Madame," explained Harkness, his +face perplexed. "She and Miss Beryl here've been thinking she was some +mysterious lydy or other--Williams says they got it in their little +heads she was a Queen hiding--" + +"Madame hiding _where_?" snorted Budge. + +"Well, _I_ can't make nothing out of it. My head goes 'round in a circle +like. Only Williams says that lydy must be the lydy the young lydies +visited, mysterious like, just afore Christmas and the lydy's our Madame +all right and that's what I say my head goes 'round in a circle!" + +"Your tongue, too, Timothy Harkness. Well, there's lots going to happen +now, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. First thing, I s'pose, she'll clear +that Castle young 'un out of the house and then your Miss Beryl. And +mebbe send Miss Robin off to school somewheres to get these common +notions out o' her little head. You say they're all talking upstairs +now?" + +"Only Madame and the lawyer man. Mr. Granger's gone down to the Mills to +send word to his home that Miss Robin's found." + +"Saints be praised!" murmured Mrs. Budge, devoutly. + +Up in her little sitting-room Robin and Beryl sat arm in arm, and Robin +told Beryl the whole story of her adventure. On the window seat beside +them lay the square box containing Dale's model. + +"I just ran, Beryl, as fast as I could and _anywhere_. I was so +frightened I didn't stop to look. I fell down twice and the second time +I was so tired I could scarcely get up. But I had to. And then I thought +I'd found a path, and I followed it, but it stopped at a ravine that +was, _oh_, so deep. Well, I knew I was lost. I called and called and no +one answered. And I heard all sorts of queer noises as though there +might be wild beasts. One came very close, I'm sure, though I couldn't +see it. And I was dreadfully hungry. I sat down on a log and cried, +too--my feet ached so and my arms ached so from carrying this box. I +decided to bury it and leave a note telling about it, for, honestly, +Beryl, I didn't think then I'd live an hour longer, but I didn't have a +pencil and when I started to dig with my hands the ground was so gooy +that I couldn't bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it." She shuddered and +Beryl held her hands tighter. "And it began to get dark. I tried to be +brave and say nothing could hurt me, but I couldn't help but hear the +funny noises and I was so _awfully_ alone. I started to walk again, just +somewhere, because when I walked I couldn't hear all the sounds and +every now and then I'd call out. And just as it was almost pitch dark in +the wood something big came rushing toward me and sprang at me and, +Beryl, I fainted dead away! Well, the next thing I knew something was +licking my face. And someone was saying something queer, and Beryl, it +was Cćsar and that Brina from our House of Rushing Water! Cćsar had +heard me call and found me, and then he had barked and howled until +Brina came with a lantern." + +Beryl jumped up and down in excitement. + +"What happened then?" she cried. + +"Brina carried me--and that box--to the house in the wood. It seemed I'd +gotten most to it and didn't know it. And the Queen was awfully +frightened. But she wouldn't let me say a word; she made Brina put me in +her bed and she covered me with blankets and she fed me herself, +something hot and oh, so good. And she kept petting me and cuddling me +for I guess I shook like a leaf. You see, I couldn't _believe_ I was +safe and sound; I kept seeing that dog jump at me! And finally she sang +to me, the nicest old-fashioned song and I went to sleep, and I never +opened my eyes until this morning, and there she stood by my bed with a +tray of nice breakfast. She wouldn't let me tell her how I got lost +until I'd eaten every crumb. And then I felt so cosy and warm and safe +that I told her everything--_everything_, all about Mother Lynch and how +my plans for the House of Laughter had failed at first, and then the +Rileys and what I thought of the Mills, and how horrid Mr. Norris was +and about Susy and poor Granny and Dale's model, and then what I'd done +at Grangers'. I just got started and I couldn't stop. And Beryl, I told +her _again_ how my aunt was an unhappy old woman who worried over her +own troubles so much that she didn't have time for other people's. +Wasn't that dreadful?" And Robin caught up a pillow and buried her face +in it. + +Beryl looked troubled. + +"Yes, that _was_ dreadful. What ever did she say?" + +"She didn't say anything. She picked up my tray and went out, and I felt +the way I had that other time, all fussed, because I'd bothered a Queen +with my silly affairs. And I could have sworn then she was a Queen, +Beryl, she had such a dignified way of being sweet and she smelled so +nice and perfumy--a different perfume. And that Brina had put the +gorgeousest nightgown on me, too." + +"When did you first know the Queen was your aunt?" Beryl broke in. + +"Beryl Lynch, on my honor, not until my guardian called her Madame +Forsyth! After she took my tray out she came back, and she did look sort +of funny, now I remember, the way one does when one decides suddenly to +do something you hadn't dreamed of doing, and she told me Brina had gone +into the village to hunt up some sort of a vehicle to get me back to the +Manor. And I didn't think until the last moment that she meant to come, +too. And all the way over I was nearly bursting thinking how surprised +you'd be and what fun it would be to have the Queen visit us. Oh, dear!" +And Robin drew a long breath, half sigh. + +"Well, something'll happen _now_," groaned Beryl, in much the same tone +Budge had used. "When she finds out about Susy and me!" + +And below in the library the same thought held Robin's +guardian--something must happen, now. + +He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth freshened herself after +her long ride. And while he waited, in considerable apprehension, he +planned the course he would follow; if Madame refused to accept little +Red-Robin as her heir, because she was a girl and _different_, why, he'd +take her back with him to his own home. She could live with him and his +sister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt her if Jimmie would +let him. And he'd take Beryl, too, if Robin wished--and he'd see Susy +was put with some nice family. + +But where in the world had Robin found her aunt--or her aunt found +Robin. Everyone acted as though they were knocked stupid by the +mystery--no one had offered a word of explanation. He rubbed his +forehead as though it might have circles, too. + +"Which shall we hear first?" a voice asked behind him, "How _you_ +happened to bring little Robin here--or how _I_ did?" + +The words startled him more because of their tone than their +unexpectedness. And turning, he saw (to his immense relief) that Madame +Forsyth was smiling--and in her eyes was a softened look, though they +were shadowed with fatigue. + +"I am immensely curious, I must admit, as to where you found Robin, but +I feel that I owe you the first explanation." + +He told then, of his first visit to Patchin Place and of his finding +little Robin in her curious surroundings. + +"I really cannot say just what put the notion in my head of taking her +to the Manor--I think it was something appealing about the child." + +"You are more honest to admit that than I expected, Cornelius Allendyce. +Your silence in regard to her being a girl might seem inexcusable to me +only that I am glad, now, that you kept silence. For I would have most +certainly, then, sent her back. And--I am glad that never happened. You +see _I_ can be honest, too." + +"Before I can explain my finding the child in this last plight of hers I +must tell you a little of my 'wanderings' since I left the Manor. They +were not far. I went to New York and reserved passage on a steamer +sailing for the Mediterranean the next week. That evening I saw the 'for +sale' notice of a house in the Connecticut woods, which advertised +absolute seclusion. I telephoned to my banker, who has been in my +confidence, and he made a hurried trip to Brown's Mill and bought the +house, just as it stood. The next day I discharged Florrie, cancelled my +sailing reservations, picked up a strong German woman for a cook, bought +a dog and rode out to my new home. It offered all that I had hoped it +would. There I planned to find a change that would be a rest, to forget +the world about me and live in my past, which was all I had. And for +several weeks I did--until two girls broke in upon my precious privacy." + +She told of Robin and Beryl's first visit and then of their second, and +of the gifts they brought from the Manor. + +"I confess it was a shock to me to discover that this child was--Gordon +Forsyth. Yet it was the shock I needed to rouse me from my depression. +For, like you, I fell quickly under the girl's charm. From that day on I +found I could not hold my thoughts to my past--in spite of me they +persisted in dwelling upon the present--and the future. You see I am +frank with you." + +Cornelius Allendyce nodded. He dared not speak for he did not want to +betray the relief he felt. + +"I do not think I would have returned to the Manor for several weeks +yet, for my health has singularly benefited by my--unusual change, +except that this escapade of Robin's made me feel that I was needed +here. Something she said made up my mind for me, rather quickly. +Cornelius Allendyce--that child has a great gift. It is the gift of +giving. An unusual talent in the Forsyth family, you are thinking! But +like all talents it ought to be trained and directed and strengthened +and my work is--to do it. I had thought my life lived--but it is not, +and I am happy to have found it so. I am too old, perhaps, to learn the +new ways but I am not too old to safeguard them." + +"You are a wonderful old woman," the lawyer answered, quite +involuntarily and with such instant alarm at his audacity that Madame +Forsyth smiled. + +"Oh, no. I am not wonderful at all. I am revealing my heart to you, now, +in a way I do not often open it, but I shall, to my last day, probably, +be a proud, overbearing old woman with a sharp tongue. You, however, +will know what is underneath." + +There was a moment's silence, then Madame Forsyth told him of Cćsar's +finding Robin in the woods and giving the alarm. + +"The child was utterly exhausted. I cannot bear to think of what might +have happened if we--had not been living there. Thank God we found her. +May I summon the girls? I am curious to see more of this rather unusual +young person my niece has attached to my household." + +Then the lawyer remembered Beryl's great good fortune and that nothing +had been said concerning that. How happy Robin would be! + +In answer to Madame's summons Robin and Beryl came to the library, +nervously sedate in manner and with fingers intertwined in a close grip. + +Madame beckoned to them with her jeweled white hand. + +"Come to me, Robin. Are you sorry to find that your mysterious friend +by the Rushing Waters--is your aunt?" + +Robin advanced slowly, her eyes on her aunt's face. + +"No, oh, no! Only--maybe _you're_ sorry about--_me_--being a girl and +such a small one--and lame, too--" + +"Oh, my _dear_!" And Madame Forsyth held out her arms impulsively and +Robin, her face aglow, snuggled into them. + +Every moment of that day something exciting and significant seemed to +happen. Ever so many people called, and it was fun to see their surprise +at finding Madame home. Aunt Mathilde, (Robin could not make the name +sound natural) upon introduction, had acted as though she almost liked +Susy, and Susy had looked very cunning in the new dress the nurse had +made for her. And she hadn't said Susy would have to go! Then Robin flew +off, the very first moment, with Beryl to find Mrs. Lynch and _hug_ her +over the wonderful fortune and talk about the farm which must be very +near Wassumsic. Then Beryl played for Aunt Mathilde and Aunt Mathilde +had looked as though she "felt funny inside!" + +And then Dale had come with Tom Granger, both of them looking haggard +from anxiety and lack of sleep. They came in while Beryl was playing. +Robin was glad of that for it gave her a moment to think what she must +say to Tom Granger in explanation. + +She did not need to say anything, however. Tom knew the whole story, +from his father and from Dale. He and Dale had become fast friends. + +He caught Robin's hand and pumped her small arm until it ached. + +"I had to see you to believe you'd turned up," he laughed. "You +certainly gave us a scare we won't forget in a hurry! But you're a good +little sport and I'm coming around, if I may, to take you for a +ride--before I have to go back to school." + +"Well, I never want to go _fast_ again in my life," cried Robin, +coloring under the meaning glance Beryl shot at her. + +Dale greeted her more shyly, and because Madame Forsyth and Cornelius +Allendyce were talking to Tom, and Beryl had eyes and ears only for the +nice-looking lad, no one overheard what passed between them. + +"Miss Robin, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened +to you! You should not have taken such a risk--just for my model." + +Robin looked at Dale with shining eyes. Would she tell him of her +"pretend?" + +"_You_ saved _my_ life once," she exclaimed, impulsively. + +"_I_ did!" + +"Yes--a long time ago. I was hunting in a little park in New York for +my doll that I'd left there and you found me, crying. And you took me +home--to Patchin Place. I guess maybe you forgot, because you were big +and I was a little bit of a thing!" + +Dale stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. + +"Why, of _course_--I remember now. You _were_ a little bit of a thing, +with blue eyes and a blue tam. You asked me what a Ma was! Yes, I'd +clean forgotten." He sobered suddenly, and Robin knew it was because he +remembered _why_ he had forgotten. His father had been hurt that +evening. + +He looked very big now and very much grown up and Robin wondered, with a +wild confusion sending her blood tingling to her face, would he remember +that she had kissed him and called him her Prince? She watched him, +trembling. But no, he did not remember! + +"Well, you've more than repaid me for _that_ little thing," he said. +"Someone else would have found you if I hadn't. And please promise, Miss +Robin, you won't take any more chances for me!" + +So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in her heart--not to be +forgotten, but to be enjoyed, as a big-little girl enjoys taking out +childish toys or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressing +them tenderly, putting them back reverently--and feeling tremendously +grown-up! + + * * * * * + +A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down upon two heads close together +at a wide-open window. The one was dark and the other red. And the same +young moon audaciously winked at the whispered confidences exchanged in +the brooding quiet of the night. + +"Oh, Robin, doesn't it seem an _age_ since you went off to +Granger's?----So much has happened. I don't feel like the same +girl----Tom Granger's awfully nice looking----his eyes are _blue_, +Robin----oh, I won't let myself _think_ of going to New York until +Mom and Pop are settled somewhere away from the Mills----Robin, you're +so _quiet_----I should think you'd be bursting--" + +"I'm glad my aunt was nice to Susy and your mother and--Dale. Beryl, +she's going to make Norris take that invention----" + +"Well, I never dreamed that old toy really amounted to anything--" + +"---- ---- ---- ----" + +"Beryl, don't you love the stars? _You're_ quiet now----" + +Beryl giggled. + +"Robin--I just remembered! Do you realize we gave our--Queen--_her own +book for Christmas_?" + +"Beryl, as _sure_ as anything! Oh, how funny!" + + + + +EPILOGUE + +A STORY AFTER THE STORY + + +In a hammock hung between two leafing apple trees, a woman lay, so very +still that she seemed sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliage +over her head, now and then showering her with pink petals from the +lingering blossoms; from beneath her rose the damp sweet fragrance of +soft earth and green grass, nearby a meadow-lark sang plaintively; +somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate in the nest; from the +valley, stretching below the sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted. + +A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining woman and her eyes +stared through the lacy canopy of green into the blue sky, where fleecy +clouds sailed off to the west and south. + +A lingering echo went singing through her heart. "It is all yours, Moira +Lynch! It is all yours!" The beauty around her--the promise of spring, +the green of orchard and meadow and distant hill, the rest, the +contentment--the happiness, and oh, most precious, the fulfilment. + +There was never a day now, in Mother Moira's life, so busy that she +could not snatch a moment to go over, in reverent appreciation, the +blessings that were hers. And no longer were her dreams--for nothing +could change the dreaming heart of the little woman--for herself or +even for her big Danny; they were for her fine lad, a man now, and +Beryl, working so earnestly for her ambition, and little Robin, who +would always _be_ little Robin, and the imp of a Susy, ruddy cheeked and +happy-hearted. + +How long, long ago seemed those days when, a slip of a girl, she had +dreamed on that other hillside of a future that would be hers; how +dazzling had been the pictures she had fancied; how much she had dared +to ask. In her youthful bravado she had laughed at Destiny and had made +so bold as to declare Destiny might even then be weaving a bit of gold +into the drab fabric of her life. + +(Faith, was not little Robin her bit of gold? Had not the wonderful +change begun in their lives after little Robin came to the Manor?) + +Five years had passed, since she and her big Danny had moved from the +village to the little farm that was "just around the corner." During +them she and big Danny had been alone a great deal of the time, +excepting for little Susy; for Dale and Beryl, after settling them +snugly in the old-fashioned farmhouse, (painted as white as white with a +new barn for the gentle-eyed cow, and a pen for the pigs, and a trim +little run-way for the chickens) had gone away, Dale to an engineering +college, Beryl to live with Miss Allendyce and take her precious violin +lessons, and lessons in languages and science. But Mother Moira was +never lonesome, for mere miles could not separate a heart like hers +from those she loved! + +There had been significant changes in the village for her to watch +develop. The old Mill cottages had been torn down and across the river +had been built a cluster of white houses, each with its own yard "going +right around it," and trees and a bit of garden. There was a new school +house, too, and a new corps of teachers, and a hospital and a library. +Robin and her aunt had opened this only a month before. + +And the House of Laughter had been enlarged to meet the increasing +demands upon it; there were rooms for the girls' clubs and the boys' +clubs, and a billiard room and a bowling alley, and an athletic field +with a basketball court and a baseball diamond. + +(Sir Galahad in his scarlet coat still hung over the mantel which +Williams had built. Robin would not let anyone change that.) + +Mrs. Riley lived in the upper floor of the House of Laughter and took +care of it. + +The Manor car, with Madame Forsyth, passed often now through the streets +of the village and from it Madame nodded pleasantly to this person and +that, stopping sometimes to ask one Mill mother concerning her sick +child, another of her husband--and another whether she had finished the +knit bed-spread upon which Madame had found her working one afternoon +when she had called. Madame had herself regularly visited the new Mill +houses during the process of construction and took delight in dropping +in upon the newly organized school while classes were in session. + +"I'll be the same proud, overbearing old lady," she had told her lawyer, +but she had been mistaken--she could never be quite that again, for she +had found too much pure delight in doing the little things Robin quite +artlessly suggested--little things which had not been easy at first and +which had seemed to demand too great a sacrifice of her pride. + +The passing of time for the three at the Manor, Madame, Mrs. Budge and +Harkness, was marked, Mother Lynch well knew, by Robin's coming and +going. For, when her Jimmie had returned from southern seas, Robin had +insisted upon going straight to him, and it was not until her aunt had +laid aside the last shred of her old prejudice and invited Robin's +father to the Manor for a long visit that Robin had consented to look +upon the Manor as her "home," though, even then, she steadfastly +asserted "part" of her time must be spent with Jimmie. + +While at the Manor James Forsyth had painted his "Wood Sprite," which +won for him quick and wide recognition, and ever afterward Robin and +Madame Forsyth referred to it as "our picture." + +No, Mother Moira was never lonesome. + +A gay voice roused her now from her happy reverie, footsteps rustled the +grass, cool hands, with a touch as light as the blowing petals, closed +over her eyes. + +"Dreaming again, little Mom? You're incurable!" And Beryl, with a laugh, +dropped upon the ground close to the hammock, one hand closing over her +mother's. + +"It's a bit of a cat-nap I'm stealing," fibbed Mother Moira, blushing +like a girl. Her eyes lingered adoringly on the glowing, flushed face +close to hers. "Where have you been, Beryl?" + +"Susy coaxed me off to her fairy spring. It's really a lovely little +nook she's found and she's made a doll's house in the hollow of an old +tree. She's a funny little thing--almost elfin, isn't she? Are you sure +she isn't too much trouble for you and Dad, Mother?" + +"Trouble? Bless the little heart of the colleen, it's something +happening every minute for it's an imp of mischief she is, but, Beryl, I +like it. It keeps my own heart young." + +"As though your heart would ever grow old! You're like Robin. Oh, +mother, you can't _know_ how lonesome I've been over there in Milan for +the sight of you and this little place. I think my soul, the one poor +dear Jacques Henri tried to find in me and didn't--wakened one night +when I actually cried myself to sleep just longing to feel your arms +around me! Oh, when one has a mother and a home like mine to want to +come to, it ought to be _easy_ to keep beautiful inside, the way the +dear man said!" And Beryl, staring thoughtfully out over the valley, +did not see the glow that transformed her mother's face. + +A shrill whistle from the Mills echoed and reechoed through the valley. +Beryl turned her head suddenly and laid her cheek against the palm of +her mother's hand. + +"Mother, I saw a lot of Tom Granger when I was in Paris." + +Mother Moira started ever so slightly, with the barest twitching of the +hand Beryl's cheek touched. + +"He was very nice to me. Mother, are he and--and Robin--awfully good +friends?" + +"What's in your heart, my girl?" + +"Mom, couldn't Robin marry almost _anybody_? She's such a dear and she's +so rich and she's travelled around so much." + +"Why, bless the heart of her, she's nothing but a child!" + +"Mother!" Beryl's voice rang impatiently. "We'll just _never_ grow up in +your eyes! Why, Robin's twenty. Well, I should think _anyone'd_ like Tom +Granger." + +"Oh, my dear!" And Mother Moira, reading the girl's heart with her wise +mother-eyes, gave a tiny sigh. Must the shadow of a heartache touch the +splendid friendship between these two, Beryl and Robin? + +The thought lingered with her while she watched the girls come hand in +hand out to the orchard from the drive where Robin had left her +roadster. Beryl had only been home for three days and Robin came out to +the farm at every opportunity. + +Her girls--her tall, handsome Beryl with the strong shoulders and the +free swing of her, and little Robin, with her deep blue eyes and her +tender lips and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her walk +the appearance of eagerness. + +There was still so much to talk about that the two girls lingered under +the trees while Mother Moira swung gently and listened and watched the +dear young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a weekend at a duke's +house; Robin had spent a month in the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie; +Dale had brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from an +expedition he had made with an engineering gang into the fastnesses of +South America, and Beryl had been asked to tour in the fall with the +Cincinnati Symphony and was going to accept. Their chatter came back +then to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the library and the new +teachers, who were Smith College graduates, and Sophie Mack who had +started a Girl Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House of +Laughter. + +"Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and Dale coming!" cried +Mother Moira, springing to quick life. + +"And Dale has a wonderful secret to tell, too," laughed Robin, her eyes +shining. + +Beryl looked at her friend curiously--Robin had the "all-tight-inside" +look that Beryl remembered from the old days at the Manor. + +"Do you know the secret?" she asked. + +Robin's face flushed rose-red. "Y-yes. But I promised Dale I wouldn't +tell. We both want to see your mother's face--when she hears it." + +"Well, I think you're mean to have a secret with Dale that _I_ don't +know!" cried Beryl, with real indignation. "Is it something that's going +to make Mom lots happier?" + +"I--hope--so!" And to hide the tell-tale rose on her face Robin threw +her arms around Mother Moira and kissed her. + +"Faith, is it any happier I could be without my heart just breaking?" + +Dale came and they all, big Danny in his wheel chair, ate supper on the +broad porch where they could enjoy the sunset. Beryl watched her brother +with admiring eyes--he had grown so strong and big and good-looking, his +nice-fitting clothes set off his broad shoulders so well, his voice had +such a ring of confidence. + +"I've been offered the management of the Forsyth Mills," he announced +suddenly. + +Then _that_ was the secret! + +"Really, truly?" exclaimed Beryl. + +"And will ye take it, my boy?" asked big Danny, a note of pride +deepening his voice. + +"My boy a manager!" trilled Mother Moira. + +"Yes. I'll take it. I made one condition with Madame Forsyth--and she +granted it." And Dale flashed a look across to Robin. Everyone followed +his glance and everyone read the truth in Robin's face. + +"Robin Forsyth--and you never breathed a _word_!" cried Beryl, not +knowing for the moment whether to give way to great joy or indignation +that her friend had not confided in her. + +With a quick little motion, Robin had slipped to Mother Lynch's chair +and, kneeling beside it, she buried her face against the woman's heart. + +"I didn't know--myself," came in muffled tones from the embrace. + +"Are you happy, mother?" asked Dale, boyishly. + +"Ah, I did not know I could be happier--but, I am!" And Mother Moira +smiled through the tears that brimmed in her eyes. + +Beryl, staring at her mother and brother and her friend, suddenly gave +voice to a thought that had come with such significance as to sweep away +her girlish reserve. + +"Then it _isn't_ Tom Granger at all! You don't care a _bit_ about him?" + +Robin's face lifted. "About Tom? Oh, goodness me, no. Why, he isn't +worth Dale's little _finger_--Beryl Lynch, why do you ask me that?" + +"Oh--nothing. Really, truly--" And Beryl escaped into the house. + + * * * * * + +Robin drove Dale back to the village. At the turn of the road near the +House of Laughter she stopped the car that they might enjoy for a moment +the twilight glow of the valley. Lights twinkled from the Mill houses +across the river. From the House of Laughter came the sound of singing. +A young crescent of a moon shone silvery against a purple blue sky. + +"Little Red-Robin," cried Dale, suddenly, "Are you very sure?" + +"Sure--of what?" Robin asked in a voice that trembled in spite of her. + +"Someday you will be a rich girl. I am a--working-man. What will the +world say? They may laugh at you!" + +Robin's chin lifted. Had she ever reckoned her gifts in dollars and +cents? + +"But you're my Prince!" she protested, proudly. "Don't you remember? +That night, a long, long time ago, when you took me home, I called +you--my Prince. You said, then, you couldn't stay with me--that I'd have +to find you. Well," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I have." + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +"The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay" + +THERE ARE TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING-- + +--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected +list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent +writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & +Dunlap book wrapper. + +You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook. + +_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to +the publishers for a complete catalog._ + +_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste_ + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JANE ABBOTT'S STORIES FOR GIRLS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +Mrs. Abbott holds a unique place among the writers of fiction for young +girls. Her charming stories possess those same qualities of optimism and +high ideals for humanity that made the books of Louisa May Alcott so +popular. She never fails to create an atmosphere of happiness and the +spirit of Youth and Spring. + +RED ROBIN + In Robin Forsyth Mrs. Abbott has added a new and charming member to + the happy collection of young girls who have enlivened the pages of + her stories. + +APRILLY + A charming story of a young girl and of the adventures which lead her + to her goal of happiness. The book is filled with that joyous spirit + of youth and spring that the title suggests. + +HIGHACRES + A school story for girls full of vitality and enthusiasm. There is a + real plot and the girls introduced are sure to be interesting to the + reader. + +KEINETH + Keineth is a life creation--within its covers the actual spirit of + youth. The book is of special interest to girls, but when a grown-up + gets hold of it there follows a one-session under the reading lamp + with "finis" at the end. + +LARKSPUR + Especially interesting to any Girl Scout because it is the story of a + Girl Scout who is poor and has to help her mother. + +HAPPY HOUSE + The delightful story of two American girls, Ann and Nancy. They heal + the old family quarrel and the old homestead becomes a happy house. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE NOVELS OF TEMPLE BAILEY +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE BLUE WINDOW + The heroine, Hildegarde, finds herself transplanted from the middle + western farm to the gay social whirl of the East. She is almost swept + off her feet, but in the end she proves true blue. + +PEACOCK FEATHERS + The eternal conflict between wealth and love. Jerry, the idealist who + is poor, loves Mimi, a beautiful, spoiled society girl. + +THE DIM LANTERN + The romance of little Jane Barnes who is loved by two men. + +THE GAY COCKADE + Unusual short stories where Miss Bailey shows her keen knowledge of + character and environment, and how romance comes to different people. + +THE TRUMPETER SWAN + Randy Paine comes back from France to the monotony of every-day + affairs. But the girl he loves shows him the beauty in the common + place. + +THE TIN SOLDIER + A man who wishes to serve his country, but is bound by a tie he cannot + in honor break--that's Derry. A girl who loves him, shares his + humiliation and helps him to win--that's Jean. Their love is the + story. + +MISTRESS ANNE + A girl in Maryland teaches school, and believes that work is worthy + service. Two men come to the little community; one is weak, the other + strong, and both need Anne. + +CONTRARY MARY + An old-fashioned love story that is nevertheless modern. + +GLORY OF YOUTH + A novel that deals with a question, old and yet ever new--how far + should an engagement of marriage bind two persons who discover they no + longer love. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +MARGARET PEDLER'S NOVELS + May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +TO-MORROW'S TANGLE + The game of love is fraught with danger. To win in the finest sense, + it must be played fairly. + +RED ASHES + A gripping story of a doctor who failed in a crucial operation--and + had only himself to blame. Could the woman he loved forgive him? + +THE BARBARIAN LOVER + A love story based on the creed that the only important things + between birth and death are the courage to face life and the love to + sweeten it. + +THE MOON OUT OF REACH + Nan Davenant's problem is one that many a girl has faced--her own + happiness or her father's bond. + +THE HOUSE OF DREAMS-COME-TRUE + How a man and a woman fulfilled a Gypsy's strange prophecy. + +THE HERMIT OF FAR END + How love made its way into a walled-in house and a walled-in heart. + +THE LAMP OF FATE + The story of a woman who tried to take all and give nothing. + +THE SPLENDID FOLLY + Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from + each other? + +THE VISION OF DESIRE + An absorbing romance written with all that sense of feminine tenderness + that has given the novels of Margaret Pedler their universal appeal. + +WAVES OF DESTINY + Each of these stories has the sharp impact of an emotional crisis--the + compressed quality of one of Margaret Pedler's widely popular novels. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE NOVELS OF GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + A NEW NAME + ARIEL CUSTER + BEST MAN, THE + CITY OF FIRE, THE + CLOUDY JEWEL + DAWN OF THE MORNING + ENCHANTED BARN, THE + EXIT BETTY + FINDING OF JASPER HOLT, THE + GIRL FROM MONTANA, THE + LO, MICHAEL! + MAN OF THE DESERT, THE + MARCIA SCHUYLER + MIRANDA + MYSTERY OF MARY, THE + NOT UNDER THE LAW + PHOEBE DEANE + RE-CREATIONS + RED SIGNAL, THE + SEARCH, THE + STORY OF A WHIM, THE + TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME + TRYST, THE + VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS, A + WITNESS, THE + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + THE MIDLANDER + THE FASCINATING STRANGER + GENTLE JULIA + ALICE ADAMS + RAMSEY MILHOLLAND + THE GUEST OF QUESNAY + THE TWO VAN REVELS + THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS + MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE + SEVENTEEN + PENROD + PENROD AND SAM + THE TURMOIL + THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + THE FLIRT + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. + The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful + story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. + +JOSSELYN'S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for happiness + and love. + +MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. + The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come with a + second marriage. + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure and + lonely, for the happiness of life. + +SATURDAY'S CHILD. Frontispiece by E. Graham Cootes. + Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through + sheer determination to the better things for which her soul hungered? + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background of + every girl's life, and some dreams which come true. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE KEEPER OF THE BEES + A gripping human novel everyone in your family will want to read. + +THE WHITE FLAG + How a young girl, singlehanded, fought against the power of the + Morelands who held the town of Ashwater in their grip. + +HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER + The story of such a healthy, level-headed, balanced young woman + that it's a delightful experience to know her. + +A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND + In which Kate Bates fights for her freedom against long odds, + renouncing the easy path of luxury. + +FRECKLES + A story of love in the limberlost that leaves a warm feeling about + the heart. + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST + The sheer beauty of a girl's soul and the rich beauties of the + out-of-doors are in the pages of this book. + +THE HARVESTER + The romance of a strong man and of Nature's fields and woods. + +LADDIE + Full of the charm of this author's "wild woods magic." + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW + A story of friendship and love out-of-doors. + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN + A wholesome, humorous, tender love story. + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL + The love idyl of the Cardinal and his mate, told with rare delicacy + and humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + THE ANCIENT HIGHWAY + A GENTLEMAN OF COURAGE + THE ALASKAN + THE COUNTRY BEYOND + THE FLAMING FOREST + THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN + THE RIVER'S END + THE GOLDEN SNARE + NOMADS OF THE NORTH + KAZAN + BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + THE DANGER TRAIL + THE HUNTED WOMAN + THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + THE GRIZZLY KING + ISOBEL + THE WOLF HUNTERS + THE GOLD HUNTERS + THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Transcriber's Notes + +1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. +2. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Red-Robin + +Author: Jane Abbott + +Illustrator: Harriet Roosevelt Richards + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19057] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED-ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 350px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='THE EFFECT WAS VERY CHRISTMASY--Page 196' title='' width = '350' height = '543'/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THE EFFECT WAS VERY CHRISTMASY —<i>Page</i> 196</span> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<table width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='' border='1'> + <col style='width:100%;' /> + <tr> + <td align='center'> + <span style='font-size: 260%;'><br />RED-ROBIN</span><br /><br /> + + <span style='font-size: 100%;'>BY</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 140%;'>JANE ABBOTT</span><br /><br /><br /> + + <span style='font-size: 80%;'>AUTHOR OF</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 100%;'>KEINETH, HIGHACRES,</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 100%;'>APRILLY, Etc.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + + <span style='font-size: 80%;' class='smcap'>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 120%;'>HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + + <span style='font-size: 100%;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</span><br /> + <span style='font-size: 80%;'>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</span><br /><br /><br /> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: smaller;'>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: smaller;'>COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p style='text-align: center;'>TO BETSY</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:16%;" /> +<col style="width:4%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr><td align="right"> </td><td></td><td align="left">Prologue—A Story Before the Story</td><td align="right"><a href="#PROLOGUE">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">I</td><td></td><td align="left">The Orphan Doll</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II</td><td></td><td align="left">A Prince</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III</td><td></td><td align="left">The House of Forsyth</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV</td><td></td><td align="left">Red-Robin</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V</td><td></td><td align="left">Jimmie</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI</td><td></td><td align="left">The Forsyth Heir</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII</td><td></td><td align="left">Beryl</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII</td><td></td><td align="left">Robin Asserts Herself</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX</td><td></td><td align="left">The Lynchs</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X</td><td></td><td align="left">The Lady of the Rushing Waters</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI</td><td></td><td align="left">Pot Roast and Cabbage Salad</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII</td><td></td><td align="left">Robin Writes a Letter</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII</td><td></td><td align="left">Susy Castle</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV</td><td></td><td align="left">A Gift to the Queen</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV</td><td></td><td align="left">The Party</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">176</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI</td><td></td><td align="left">Christmas at the Manor</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII</td><td></td><td align="left">The House of Laughter</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII</td><td></td><td align="left">The Luckless Stocking</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX</td><td></td><td align="left">Granny</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX</td><td></td><td align="left">Robin's Beginning</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">250</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI</td><td></td><td align="left">At the Granger Mills</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII</td><td></td><td align="left">The Green Beads</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">279</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII</td><td></td><td align="left">Robin's Rescue</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">292</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV</td><td></td><td align="left">Madame Forsyth Comes Home</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">305</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"></td><td> </td><td align="left">Epilogue—A Story After the Story</td><td align="right"><a href="#EPILOGUE">318</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2>Illustrations</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="600" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<col style="width:80%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<tr><td align="left">The Effect Was Very Christmasy</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-001">Frontispiece</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Beautiful Little Girl Had Not Spoken To Her</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-002">25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"Couldn't I Run Away With You?"</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-003">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"It's Like The House Of Bread And Cake"</td><td align="right"><a href="#illus-004">121</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr class='major' /> +<h1>RED-ROBIN</h1> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> +<a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE"></a> +<h2>PROLOGUE</h2> +<h3>A STORY BEFORE THE STORY</h3> +</div> + +<p>On a green hillside a girl lay prone in the sweet grass, very still that +she might not, by the slightest quiver, disturb the beauty that was +about her. There was so very, very <i>much</i> beauty—the sky, azure blue +overhead and paling where it touched the green-fringed earth; the +whispering tree under which she lay, the lush meadow grass, moving like +waves of a sea, the bird nesting above her, everything—</p> + +<p>And Moira O'Donnell, who had never been farther than the boundaries of +her county, knew the whole world was beautiful, too.</p> + +<p>Behind her, hid in a hollow, stood the small cottage where, at that very +moment, her grandmother was preparing the evening meal. And, beyond, in +the village was the little old stone church and Father Murphy's square +bit of a house with its wide doorstep and its roof of thatch, and Widow +Mulligan's and the Denny's and the Finnegan's and all the others.</p> + +<p>Moira loved them all and loved the hospitable homes where there was +always, in spite of poverty, a bounty of good feeling.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span></p> + +<p>And before her, just beyond that last steep rise, was the sea. She could +hear its roar now, like a deep voice drowning the clearer pipe of the +winging birds and the shrill of the little grass creatures. Often she +went down to its edge, but at this hour she liked best to lie in the +grass and dream her dreams to its lifting music.</p> + +<p>Her dream always began with: "Oh, Moira O'Donnell, it's all yours! It's +all yours!" Which, of course, sounded like boasting, or a miser gloating +over his gold, and might have seemed very funny to anyone so stupid as +to see only the girl's shabby dress and her bare feet, gleaming like +white satin against the green of the grass. But no fine lady in that +land felt richer than Moira when she began her dreaming.</p> + +<p>Of late, her dreams were taking on new shapes, as though, with her +growth, they reached out, too. And today, as she lay very still in the +grass, something big, that was within her and yet had no substance, +lifted and sung up to the blue arch of the sky and on to the sun and +away westward with it, away like a bird in far flight.</p> + +<p>Beyond that golden horizon of heaving sea was everything one could +possibly want; Moira had heard that when she was a tiny girl. America, +the States, they were words that opened fairy doors.</p> + +<p>Father Murphy had told her much about that world beyond the sea. He had +visited it once; had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> spent six weeks with his sister who had married +and settled on a farm in the state of Ohio. His sister's husband had all +sorts of new-fangled machinery for plowing and seeding, and for his +reaping! And Father Murphy had told her of the free library that was in +the town near his sister's home, where he could sit all day and read to +his heart's content.</p> + +<p>Father Murphy (he had spent three whole days in New York) had made her +see the great buildings that were like granite giants towering over and +walling in the pigmy humanity that beat against their sides like the +rise and fall of the tide; he told her of the rush and roar of the +streets and of the trains that tore over one's head.</p> + +<p>And he told her of the loveliness that was there in picture and music. +Moira, listening, quivering with the longing to be fine and to do fine +things, could always see it all just as though magic hands swept aside +those miles of ocean dividing that land of marvel from her Ireland.</p> + +<p>That was why it was so simple to let her dream-mind climb up and away +westward. Her eyes, staring into the paling blue, saw beautiful things +and her thoughts revelled in delicious fancies.</p> + +<p>That slender, gold crowned bit of a cloud—<i>that</i> was Destiny circling +her globe, weaving, and moulding, and shaping; Moira O'Donnell's own +humble thread was on her loom! And Destiny's face was turned westward. +Moira saw shining towers and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> thronged streets and fields greener than +her own. Far-off music sounded in her ears as though the world off there +just sang with gladness. And it was waiting for her—her. She saw +herself moving forward to it all with quick step and head high, going to +a beautiful goal. Sometimes that goal was a palace-place, encircled by +brilliant flowers, sometimes a farm like Father Murphy's sister's and a +husband who worked with marvelous contrivances, sometimes a free library +with all the books one could want, sometimes a dim, vaulted space +through which echoed exquisite music—</p> + +<p>She so loved that make-believe Moira, moving forward toward glowing +things, that she cried aloud: "That's me! <i>Me!</i>" And of course her voice +broke the spell—the dream vanished; there was nothing left but the +fleecy cloud, the meadow lark's song, close by.</p> + +<p>There was just time enough before her grandmother needed her, to run +down to Father Murphy's. She knew at this hour she would find him by his +wide doorstep. Fleetly, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft earth, +she covered the distance to his house. She ran up behind him and slipped +her fingers over his half-closed eyes.</p> + +<p>He knew the familiar touch of the girl's hands. He patted them with his +own and moved aside on his bench that she might sit down with him.</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, very low, her eyes shining. "It's my dream again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span></p> + +<p>The old priest did not chide her for idling, as her grandmother would +have done. The old priest dreamed, too.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she went on. "Can one go to school over there as long as one +likes? Is it too grown-up I am to learn more things from books?"</p> + +<p>The old Father told her one could never be too old to learn from books. +He loved her craving for knowledge. Had he not taught her himself, since +she was twelve? He looked at her proudly.</p> + +<p>"Father!" She whispered now, and the rose flush deepened in her face. +"It's Danny Lynch that comes every evening to see me."</p> + +<p>Now Father Murphy turned squarely and regarded her with startled eyes. +This slip of a girl was the most precious colleen in his flock.</p> + +<p>"And, Father, it's of America <i>he</i> talks all the time!"</p> + +<p>The old priest shivered as though from a chill. Sensing his feeling, +Moira caught his hand quickly and held it in a close grip.</p> + +<p>"But if I go away it's not forgetting you I'll be! Oh, who in all this +world has been a better friend to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moira +but you?"</p> + +<p>"Child—"</p> + +<p>"Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang to her feet and stood slimly +erect. "See?"</p> + +<p>He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest had not noticed. Moira—" he +caught her arm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> leaned forward and peered into her face as though to +see through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it courage I have taught +ye? And honor? And faith?"</p> + +<p>Her heart was singing now over the secret she had shared with him. Who +would not have courage and faith when one was so happy? With a lift of +her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged away his seriousness.</p> + +<p>"If you could only see me, Father, as I am in my dream. Oh, it's +beautiful I am! And smart! And rich!"</p> + +<p>"Not money," broke in the priest with a ring of contempt.</p> + +<p>"Sure, no, not money! But fine things. Oh, Father," she clasped her +hands childishly. "It's fine things I want. The very finest in the +world! And I want my Danny to want them, too."</p> + +<p>"Fine things," he repeated slowly. "And will ye know the fine things +from the dross, child? That wealth is more times what ye give, aye, than +what ye get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart of you is +unselfish—"</p> + +<p>"What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking frogs in the Widow +Finnegan's pond you are! But, sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, as +real as real, as I lay dreaming—Destiny herself, as fine as you please, +sailing to the new world, a-spinning on her loom. She had Moira +O'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this +minute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl's +eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but my +poor heart's so light it hurts—here."</p> + +<p>The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch it +bowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness in +the kindly eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's God's blessing I ask for ye—and yes, may your dream come true—"</p> + +<p>"Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered Moira.</p> + +<p>"For the both of ye!"</p> + +<p>"Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me and no blessing," laughed +the girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be +off, Father dear."</p> + +<p>"Wait." The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came out +carrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping +the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of green +beads.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with the +youthful certainty that all lovely things were her due.</p> + +<p>"Yes. To remember my blessing." He regarded them fondly, lifted them +that she might see their beauty against the sun's glow. "'Twas in a +little shop in London I found the pretty things."</p> + +<p>Moira knew how much he must love them as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> keepsake—that visit to +London was only next in his heart to the trip to America. She caught his +hands, beads, tissue wrappings and all.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's precious they are! And you too!"</p> + +<p>The Father fastened them over the girl's shabby dress. "They are only +beads," he admonished. "But it's of this day they'll remind you."</p> + +<p>He watched Moira as she ran off down the lane. He noted the quick, sure +tread of her feet, the challenging poise of her head. "Colleen—" he +whispered with a smile. "Little colleen." He turned to his door and his +lips, even though they still twisted in a smile, moved as though in +prayer.</p> + +<p>"And may God keep pure the dream in the heart of ye!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2><h3>THE ORPHAN DOLL</h3> +</div> + +<p>November—and a chill wind scurrying, snapping, biting, driving before +it fantastic scraps of paper, crackly leaves, a hail of fine cinders. An +early twilight, gray like a mist, enveloped the city in gloom. Through +it lights gleamed bravely from the grimy windows rising higher and +higher to the low-hanging clouds, each thin shaft beckoning and telling +of shelter and a warmth that was home.</p> + +<p>High over the heads of the hurrying humanity in a street of tenements +Moira Lynch lighted her lamp and set it close to the bare window. With +her it was a ceremony. She sang as she performed the little act. Without +were the shadows of the approaching night—gloom, storm, disaster, +perhaps even the evil fairies; her lamp would scatter them all with its +glow, just as her song drove the worries from her heart.</p> + +<p>Her lamp lighted, she paused for a moment, her head forward, listening. +Then at the sound of a light step she sprang to the door and threw it +open. A wee slip of a girl, almost one with the shadows of the dingy +hallway, ran into her arms.</p> + +<p>"And it's so late you are, dearie! And so dark it's grown—and cold. +Your poor little hands are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> blue. Why, what have you here, hidin' under +your shawl? Beryl Lynch! Dear love us—a doll!" With a laugh that was +like a tinkling of low pitched bells the little mother drew the treasure +from its hiding place. But as her eyes swept the silken splendor of the +raiment her merriment changed to wonder and then to fear.</p> + +<p>"You didn't—you didn't—oh, Beryl Lynch, you—"</p> + +<p>"Steal it? No. Give me it. I—found it."</p> + +<p>But the terror still darkened the mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>"And where did you find it?"</p> + +<p>"On the bench. She left it. She forgot it. Ain't it mine now?" +pleadingly. "I waited, honest, but she didn't come back."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch was examining the small wonder with timid fingers, lifting +fold after fold of shining satin and dainty muslin.</p> + +<p>"Who was she?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"A kid." Little Beryl kindled to the interest of her story. Had not +something very thrilling happened in her simple life—a life the +greatest interest of which was to carry to the store each day the small +bundle of crocheted lace which her mother made. "She was a swell kid. +She played in the park, waitin' for a big man."</p> + +<p>"Did she talk to you?" breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Beryl avoided this question. The beautiful little girl had <i>not</i> spoken +to her, though she had hung by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> very close, inviting an approach with +hungry eyes.</p> + +<p>"She was just a little kid," loftily. Then, "Ain't the doll mine?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch patted down the outermost garment. "Yes, it's yours it is, +darlin'. At least—" she hesitated over a fleeting sense of justice, +"maybe the little stranger will be a-coming back for her doll. It's a +fair bit of dolly and it's lonesome and weeping the little mother may be +this very minute—"</p> + +<p>Beryl reached out eager arms.</p> + +<p>"It's an orphan doll. I'll love it <i>hard</i>. Give me it. Oh," with a +breath that was like a whistle. "<i>Ain't</i> she lovely? Mom, is she <i>too</i> +lovely for us?"</p> + +<p>The timid question brought a quick change in the mother's face, a +kindling of a fire within the mother breast. She straightened her +slender body.</p> + +<p>"And if there's anything too good for my girlie I'd like to see it! +Isn't this the land where all men are equal and my girl and boy shall +have a school as good as the best and grow up to be maybe the President +himself?" She repeated the words softly as though they made a creed, +learned carefully and with supreme faith. Why had she come, indeed, to +this crowded, noisy city from her fair home meadows if not for this +promise it held out to her?</p> + +<p>"And isn't your brother the head of his class?" she finished +triumphantly. "And it's smarter than ever you'll be yourself with your +little books. Oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> childy!" She caught the little girl, doll and all, +into an impulsive embrace.</p> + +<p>From it Beryl wriggled to a practical curiosity as to supper. She +sniffed. Her mother nodded.</p> + +<p>"Stew! And with <i>dumplin's</i>—" She made it sound like fairy food. "Ready +to the beating when your father comes."</p> + +<p>"Where's Dale? And Pop?"</p> + +<p>"It's Dale's night at the store. And Pop'll be comin' along any minute. +I've set the lamp for him."</p> + +<p>"I'm hungry," Beryl complained. She sat down cross-legged on the +spotless scrap of carpeting and proceeded with infinite tenderness to +disrobe the doll.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she will like it here?" she asked suddenly, looking about +the humble room which for the Lynch's, served as parlor, dining-room and +kitchen. Now its bareness lay wrapped in a kindly shadow through which +glinted diamond sparks from much-scrubbed tin. "It's <i>nice</i>—" Beryl +meditated. She loved this hour, she loved the singing tea-kettle and the +smell of strong soap and her mother's face in the lamplight, with all +the loud noises of the street hushed, and the ugliness outside hidden by +the closed door, against the paintless boards of which had been nailed a +flaming poster inviting the nation's youth to join the Navy.</p> + +<p>"But maybe this home'll be—too different," she finished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span></p> + +<p>The mother's eyes grew moist with a quick tenderness. Her Beryl, with +this wonder of a dolly in her arms! Her mind flashed over the last +Christmas and the one before that when Beryl had asked Santa Claus for a +"real doll" and had cried on Christmas morning because the cheap little +bit of dolldom which the mother had bought out of her meagre savings +would not open or shut its eyes. And now—the impudent heart of the +blessed child worrying that the home wasn't good enough for the likes of +the doll!</p> + +<p>"It's a good home for her where it's loving you are to her. It's the +heart and not the gold that counts. And who knows—maybe it's a bit of +luck the dolly'll be a-bringing."</p> + +<p>As though a word of familiar portent had been uttered Beryl lifted a +face upon which was reflected the glow of the little mother's. Babe as +she was, she knew something of the mother's faith in the fickle god of +chance, a faith that helped the little woman over the rough places, that +never failed to brighten her deepest gloom. Did she not staunchly +believe that someday by a turn of good fortune she and her Danny would +know the America and the good things of which they had dreamed, sitting +in the gloaming of their Ireland, their lover's hands close clasped? But +for that hope why would they have left their dear hillsides with the +homely life and the kindly neighbors and good Father Murphy who had +taught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> her from his own dog-eared books because she was eager and quick +to learn? Through the fourteen years since they had come to America +those girl-and-boy dreams had gone sadly astray, but the little wife +still clung to the faith that they'd have the good things sometime, her +Danny would get a better job and if he didn't there was young Dale, +always at the head of his class in school and even the baby Beryl, as +quick as anything to pick out words from her little books.</p> + +<p>"A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. Her eyes grew round and +excited. "Then I can ride all day on a 'bus and go to the Zoo, can't I? +And can I have a new coat with fur? And go to Coney? And shoot the +shoots? And can Dale ride a horse? And can Dale and me go across the +river where it's like—that?" nodding to the poster.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's anticipations. The +floor creaked and the kettle sang louder than before.</p> + +<p>"That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave girl you'll be, going +to school and learning more than even poor old Father Murphy knew, God +love him. And by and by—"</p> + +<p>But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked her words. That slow +tread was not her big Danny nor the young Dale! At a knock she flew to +the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence." She caught the old man who stood +on the threshold and laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraid +I was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't home yet but you shall +stay and eat dumplin's with us—the best outside of our Ireland—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span></p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img src='images/illus-024.jpg' alt='THE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL HAD NOT SPOKEN TO HER' title='' width = '300' height = '463'/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL HAD <i>NOT</i> SPOKEN TO HER</span> +</div> + +<p>"No! No!" protested the old man, regretfully. "My old woman's waitin'! +<i>Bad</i> news! It's <i>good</i> news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman of +the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and that +Dan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin' +home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at the +pleasant odor from the stove.</p> + +<p>"A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira Lynch caught her hands together. +"It's the good luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on the +docks works harder than my big Dan." Her eyes shone like two stars.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so I'll go along. +Good-night, Mrs. Lynch."</p> + +<p>"God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered Moira, too overcome to manage +her voice.</p> + +<p>Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught the +wondering Beryl into her arms.</p> + +<p>"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be to +have doubted. My big Dan!"</p> + +<p>"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interrupted +Beryl, round-eyed.</p> + +<p>"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> she would have used if +she had said "a king." She-danced about until the floor creaked +threateningly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. And it's fine +and beautiful my girl shall be with a dress as good as the next one. +Wait! Wait!" She flew into the tiny bedroom, returning in a moment with +a small box in her hands. From it she lifted a string of round green +beads and held them laughingly before Beryl's staring eyes.</p> + +<p>"My beads! You shall wear them this night. It's the good old Father's +blessing." She clasped them about Beryl's neck, fingering them tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Pretty beads. Pretty beads," cried the little girl.</p> + +<p>Suddenly quieted by a rush of memories Mrs. Lynch sat down and took +Beryl upon her lap. "Beryl darlin', was the likes of that other little +girl—the one who forgot the dolly—fine and beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" The child's voice carried a note of wonder.</p> + +<p>"And you shall be fine and beautiful, too, Moira Lynch's own girl, just +as I used to dream for my own self, the selfish likes o' me. You shall +go to school and learn from good books. Didn't the old Father tell me of +the fine schools he had seen when he visited his sister in America? And +anybody can go—anybody!"</p> + +<p>Little Beryl felt that it was a solemn moment. She lifted serious eyes. +"I promise," she drawled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> with a gravity out of all proportion to her +six years, "I promise to go to school and learn lots like Dale and be +fine and boo'ful so's my 'dopted dolly will like me as well as—that +other kid. I've gotta be good 'nough for her. So there."</p> + +<p>The child could not comprehend the obstacles which might threaten such a +standard; she stared bravely into the unblinking eyes of the doll who +smiled back her graven smile.</p> + +<p>Then: "I'm hungry," she declared, suddenly deciding that dumplings were +more important than anything else. "And can my Dolly sit in Pop's seat?"</p> + +<p>"That she can," cried the mother, going to her "mixin'." "And what a gay +supper it will be—with the new dolly and the pretty beads and the +dumplin's. Oh, Himself a foreman!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2><h3>A PRINCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Promptly at nine o'clock, young Dale Lynch turned the key in the door of +"Tony Sebastino, Groceries" and started, whistling, homeward. Three +times a week, from the close of school until nine o'clock, he worked in +the store, snatching a dinner of bananas, or bread and cheese, between +customers. Because "Mom" had whispered that there were to be "dumplin's" +this night and that she would keep some warm for him, and because the +wind whipped chillingly through his thin clothing, he broke into a run.</p> + +<p>His homeward way led him past a bit of open triangle which in the +neighborhood was dignified by the name of park, a dreary place now, +dirty straw stacked about the fountain, dry leaves and papers cluttering +the brown earth and whipping against the iron palings of the fence. +Dale, still whistling, turned its corner and ran, full-tilt, upon a bit +of humanity clinging, like the paper and leaves, to the fence.</p> + +<p>"Giminy Gee!" Dale jumped back in alarm. Then: "Did I scare you, kid? +Oh, say, what's the matter?" For the face that turned to his was red and +swollen with weeping. "Y'lost?" This was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> Dale's natural conclusion, for +the hour was late, and the child a very small one.</p> + +<p>"I lost—my Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"Your—<i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>"My—my Cynthia. She's my b-bestest doll. I forgot her." The voice +trailed off in a wail.</p> + +<p>Dale, touched by her woe, looked about him. Certainly no Cynthia was +visible. By rapid questioning on his part he drew from her the story of +her desertion. She had played a nice game of running 'round and 'round +and counting the "things," waiting for Mr. Tony; Cynthia did not like to +run because it shook her eyes, so she had put her down on the edge of +the straw where the wind would not blow on her. And then Mr. Tony had +come and had told her to "hustle along" and she "had runned away and +for-g-got Cynthia!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess she's somebody else's Cynthia now, kid. Things don't stay +long in the parks 'round here."</p> + +<p>Dale seemed so very old and very wise that the tiny girl listened to his +verdict with blanching face. He knew, of course.</p> + +<p>"Where d'you live?" demanded Dale. "Why, you're just a baby! Anybody +with you?"</p> + +<p>The child pointed rather uncertainly to one of the intersecting streets.</p> + +<p>"I come that way," she said, then, even while saying it, began to wonder +if that were the way she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> had come. The streets all looked so much +alike. She had run along the curb, so as to be as far away as possible +from the dark alley ways and the doors. And it had been a long way.</p> + +<p>Her lip quivered though she would not cry. After Cynthia's fate, just to +be lost herself did not matter.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you know where you live? What's the street? I'll take you +home."</p> + +<p>"22 Patchin Place," lisped the child.</p> + +<p>Dale hesitated a moment to make sure of his bearings. "Well, then, come +along. I know where that is. And you forget 'bout your Cynthia. You've +got another doll, haven't you? If you haven't, you just ask Santa Claus +for one. Why, say, kiddo, what's this? You lame?" For the little girl +skipped jerkily at his side.</p> + +<p>"That's just the way I'm made," the child answered, quite indifferent to +the shocked note in the boy's voice. "I can walk and run, but I go +crooked."</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Robin Forsyth." She made it sound like "Wobbin Force."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Wobbin Force. Funny name, isn't it? And what's your Ma and Pa going +to say to you for running off?"</p> + +<p>Putting a small hand trustingly into the boy's big one, the child +skipped along at his side. "Oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> nothing," she answered, lost in an +admiring contemplation of her rescuer. "What's they, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"A Ma? Don't you know what your mother is?"</p> + +<p>Little Robin met his astonishment with a ripple of laughter. "Oh a +<i>mother</i>! I had a lovely, lovely mother once but she's gone away—to +Heaven. And is a Pa a Jimmie?"</p> + +<p>"A—what?" Dale had never met such a strange child.</p> + +<p>"'Cause Jimmie's my Parent. I call him Parent sometimes and sometimes I +call him Jimmie."</p> + +<p>If his companion had not been so very small Dale might have suspected an +attempt at "kidding." He glanced sidewise and suspiciously at her but +all he saw was a cherub face framed in a tilted sky-blue tam-o'shanter +and straggling ends of flaming red hair.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie won't scold me. <i>He'd</i> want me to try to find Cynthia." Robin +smothered a sigh. "He wasn't home anyway."</p> + +<p>"D'you live all alone? You and your Jimmie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, only Aunt Milly's downstairs and Grandpa Jones is 'cross the +hall, so I'm never 'fraid. They're not my really truly aunt's and +grandfather's—I just call them that. And Jimmie leaves the light +burning anyway. What's your name? And are you very old? Are you a man +like Jimmie?"</p> + +<p>Dale, warming under the adoration he saw on the small face, felt very +big and very manly. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> returned the little squeeze that tugged on his +hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm a big fellow," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You look awful nice," the little girl pursued. "Just like one of my +make-believe Princes. I wish you lived with Jimmie and me. I wouldn't +mind Cynthia then."</p> + +<p>"But the Princes never lived with the little girls in the stories, you +know," argued Dale, finding it a very pleasant and unusual sensation to +act the rôle of a Prince even to a very small girl. "You have to find +me, you see."</p> + +<p>Miss Robin jumped with joy. "Oh, goody, goody! I'll always make b'lieve +you are a Prince and I'll find you and you must find me, too. You will, +won't you?"</p> + +<p>"You just bet I will," promised Dale, easily. "Here's your street." He +stopped to study the house numbers. Suddenly a door flew open wide and a +bareheaded man plunged into the street, almost tumbling upon them.</p> + +<p>"Robin! Good gracious! I thought you were—stolen—lost—"</p> + +<p>Robin, very calm, clasped him about his knee.</p> + +<p>"I <i>was</i> lost, Jimmie. But this very big boy brought me home. He's a +Prince—I mean he's my make-believe Prince."</p> + +<p>"But, Robin—" The man turned from the child to Dale.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> + +<p>"I found her way down by Sheridan Square. She was hunting for her doll +she'd left there."</p> + +<p>"While I was walking with Mr. Tony this afternoon I played in the park +and I forgot Cynthia."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens—and you went way off there all by yourself to find the +thing?"</p> + +<p>In her pride of Dale, Robin overlooked the slur on Cynthia.</p> + +<p>"I went alone," she repeated, "but I came home with my Prince."</p> + +<p>Gradually Robin's father was recovering from his shock. The muscles of +his face relaxed; he ran his fingers through his thick hair, red like +the child's, with a gesture of throwing off some horrible nightmare. To +Dale he looked very boyish—with a little of Robin's own cherubic +expression.</p> + +<p>"Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And you must promise not to do +it again. Why, I can't ever leave you alone unless you do."</p> + +<p>He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to leave the little Robin +under the doubtful protection her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end grateful +to you, my boy. If there's anything I can do for you—" He slipped one +hand mechanically into his pocket.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> don't want anything." Dale spoke curtly and stepped back. "It +wasn't any bother; it's a nice night to walk."</p> + +<p>With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that her gallant Prince +was about to slip out of her sight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> Her Jimmie had pulled his hand from +his pocket and was extending it to the boy. He was not even inviting him +to come in and smoke like he always invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and all +the others. But of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway.</p> + +<p>She waited until her father had finished his thanks, then, stepping up +to Dale, she reached out two small arms and by holding on to Dale's, +drew herself up almost to the boy's chin. Upon it she pressed a shy, +warm kiss.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Prince. You will hunt for me, won't you? Promise! Cross your +heart!"</p> + +<p>Dale, flaming red, confused, promised that he would, then wheeled and +stalked off down the street. After he had rounded the corner he lifted +his arm and wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. Then he stuck +his hands deep in his pockets and whistled loudly. But after a moment, +at a recollection of sky-blue eyes underneath a sky-blue tam-o'shanter, +he chuckled softly. "A Prince! Gee, some Prince!" But his head +instinctively went higher at the honor thrust upon him.</p> + +<p>When he returned from the store, Dale usually found his mother sitting +by the lamp crocheting. But tonight everything was different; scarcely +had he stopped at their landing before the little mother, quite +transformed, rushed to greet him and tell him the wonderful bit of good +fortune.</p> + +<p>Before it his own adventure was forgotten.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + +<p>"And it's only a beginning it is—it's the superintendent he'll be in no +time at all, at all," finished Mrs. Lynch.</p> + +<p>"And we can move? And I can join the Boy Scouts? And go to camp next +summer? And have a pair of roller skates?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch nodded her head to each question. Behind each note of her +voice rippled a laugh. "Yes, yes, yes. Sure, it's a wonderful night this +is."</p> + +<p>"Where's Pop now?"</p> + +<p>"Working with the extra shift," the wife answered, proudly.</p> + +<p>"Any dumplings?" eagerly.</p> + +<p>"And I was forgetting! Bless the heart of you, of course I saved the +biggest. 'Twas like a party tonight for I dressed your sister in the +beads. It's worn out she is, God love her, with the excitement and +trying to keep her wee eyes open 'til her Pop come home. Hushee or +you'll waken the lamb now."</p> + +<p>Dale was deep in thought choosing the words with which he would tell the +good news to the "fellows" on the morrow, his mother was busying herself +with the "biggest" dumpling, when a peremptory knock came at the door. +With a quick cry Mrs. Lynch dropped her spoon—why should anything +intrude upon their joy this night?</p> + +<p>A man stood on the threshold presenting a curious figure for he wore a +heavy coat over a white duck suit. Where had she seen such a suit +before?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> With a catch at her heart she remembered—at the hospital, that +time Dale had been run over. "Oh!" she cried. "My Dan!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lynch?" The hospital attendant spoke quickly as one would who had +a disagreeable task and must dispose of it without any delay. "Your +husband's had an accident—he's alive, but—you'd better come."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch stood very still in the centre of the room—her hand +clutching her throat as though to stifle the scream that tore it.</p> + +<p>"My Dan—hurt!" She trembled but stood very straight. "Quick, Dale, we +must go to him. My Dan. No, no, you stay with Beryl. Oh, <i>hurry</i>!" she +implored the interne, rushing bareheaded past him down the stairway. +"<i>Hurry.</i>"</p> + +<p>For a few moments Dale stared at the half-open door. In his thirteen +years he had experienced the pinch of poverty, even hunger, the pain of +injury, but never this overwhelming fear of something, he did not know +what. Pop, his big, strong Pop—hurt! Pop, who could swing him even now, +that he measured five feet three himself, to his shoulder! Oh, no, no, +it could not be true! Someone had made a mistake. Someone had cruelly +frightened his mother. Hadn't their luck just come? Hadn't Pop been made +a boss?</p> + +<p>"Mom-ma!" came Beryl's voice, sleepily, from the other room. "Mom-ma, +what's they?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> Glad of anything to do Dale rushed to quiet his little +sister. He bade her, brokenly, to "never mind and go to sleep," and he +pulled the old blanket up tight to her chin, his eyes so blinded with +tears that he did not see the waxen head pillowed close to Beryl's.</p> + +<p>Then he sat in his mother's chair and dropped his head upon the table +and waited, his hands clenched at his side.</p> + +<p>"I <i>won't</i> cry! I <i>won't</i> be a baby! Mom'll maybe need me. I'm big now!" +he muttered, finding a little comfort in the sound of his own voice.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Poor Robin's Prince; alas, he felt very young and helpless before the +trouble which he faced.</p> + +<p>Big Dan Lynch, he who had been the fairest and sturdiest of the county +of Moira's girlhood, would never work again—as superintendent or even +foreman; the rest of his days must be spent in the wheeled chair sent up +by the sympathetic Miss Lewis of the Neighborhood Settlement House. It +was fixed with a contrivance so that he could move it about the small +room.</p> + +<p>Little Beryl started school which made up for a great deal that had +suddenly been taken from her life, for mother never sat by the lamp, +now, or crocheted. She worked at the Settlement House<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> all day and all +evening busied herself with her home tasks.</p> + +<p>The "lucky dolly" Beryl hid away in paper wrappings. Somehow, young as +she was, she knew her mother could not bear the sight of it.</p> + +<p>And Dale worked every day at Tony's, going to night school on the +evenings when he had used to go to the store. A tightening about the +lips, an older seriousness in the lad's eyes alone told what it had cost +him to give up his ambition to graduate with his class, perhaps at its +head.</p> + +<p>Little Robin with the sky-blue eyes was quite forgotten!</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2><h3>THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was a time-honored custom at Gray Manor that Harkness should serve +tea at half-past four in the Chinese room.</p> + +<p>On this day—another November day, ten years after the events of the +last chapter—Harkness slipped through the heavy curtains with his tray +and interrupted Madame Forsyth, mistress of Gray Manor, in deep confab +with her legal advisor, Cornelius Allendyce.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce was just saying, crisply, "Will your mind not rest easier +for knowing that the Forsyth fortune will go to a Forsyth?" when +Harkness rattled the cups.</p> + +<p>Then, strangest of all things, Madame ordered him sharply away with his +tray.</p> + +<p>Such a thing had never happened before in Harkness' experience and he +had been at Gray Manor for fifty-five years. He grumbled complainingly +to Mrs. Budge, the housekeeper, and to Florrie, Madame's own maid, who +was having a sip of tea with Mrs. Budge in the cosy warmth of the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>Florrie asserted that she could tell them a story or two of Madame's +whims and cranks—only it would not become her, inasmuch as Madame was +old and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> a woman to be pitied. "Poor thing, with this curse on the +house, who wouldn't have jumps and fidgets? I don't see I'm sure how any +of us stand it." But Florrie spoke with a hint of satisfaction—as +though proud to serve where there was a "curse." Harkness and Mrs. +Budge, who had lived at Gray Manor when things were happier, sighed.</p> + +<p>"It's an heir they be talking about now," Harkness admitted.</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Budge and Florrie in one breath.</p> + +<p>Up in the Chinese room Madame Forsyth was saying; "Do you think any +child of that—branch of the family—could take the place of—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear Madame," interrupted the lawyer. "I am not suggesting such a +thing! I know how impossible that would be. But on my own responsibility +I have made investigations and I have ascertained that your husband's +nephew has the one child. The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtless +has his ups and downs—most artists do. Now I suggest—"</p> + +<p>"That I take this—child—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce tactfully ignored the scorn in her voice. "Exactly," he +purred. "Exactly. Gordon is the child's name. A very nice name, I am +sure."</p> + +<p>"The child of an obscure artist—"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but, Madame, blood is blood. A Forsyth—"</p> + +<p>"P'ff!" Madame made a sound like rock hitting rock. Indeed, as she sat +there, her narrow eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lips +tightly compressed, she looked much more like rock than flesh-and-blood.</p> + +<p>Her explosion had the effect of exasperating the little lawyer out of +his habitual attitude of conciliation.</p> + +<p>"Madame, I can do no more than advise you in this matter. I have traced +down this child as a possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, you +have it in your power to will otherwise. But let me say this—not as a +lawyer but as your friend. You are growing old. Will you not find, +perhaps, more happiness in your old age, if you bring a little youth +into this melancholy old house—"</p> + +<p>"I must ask you to withhold your kind wishes until some other time," +interrupted Madame, dryly. "I am at present seeking your advice as a +lawyer. I have not been regardless of the fact that the House of Forsyth +must have an heir; I have been thinking of it for a long time—in fact, +that is all there is left for me to do. And, though it is exceedingly +distasteful to me, I see the justice in seeking out one of—that family. +But, it must be done in my way. My mind is quite made up to that. You +say there is a—child. I wish you to communicate with this child's +father—this relative of my husband, and inform him that I will make +this child my heir provided he can be brought to Gray Manor at once. He +will live for one year here under your guardianship. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> will send for +Percival Tubbs who, you may remember, tutored my grandson. Doubtless he +is old-fogyish but from his long association with our family he knows +the Forsyth traditions and what the head of the House of Forsyth should +be. He will know whether this boy can be trained to measure up to it. +If, after a year, he does not, he must go back—to his father. I will be +fair, of course, as far as money goes. If he does—" She stopped +suddenly, her stony demeanor broken. The thin lips quivered at the +thought of that sunny south room in the great house where had been left +untouched the toys, the books, the games, the precious trophies, the +guns and racquets, golf sticks and gloves which marked each development +of her beloved grandson.</p> + +<p>"A very fair plan," murmured the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"You have not heard all," went on Madame Forsyth in such a strange voice +that Cornelius Allendyce looked up at her in astonishment. "I am going +away."</p> + +<p>"You! Where?" exclaimed the man. He could not quite believe his ears.</p> + +<p>"That I do not care to divulge." She enjoyed his amazement. "I am +yielding to a restlessness which in a younger woman you would +understand, but which in me you would no doubt term—crazy. I am going +to run away—to some new place, where, for awhile, no one will know +whether I am the rich Madame Christopher Forsyth or the poor Mrs. John<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> +Smith. Oh, I shall be quite safe; at my bank they will be able to find +me if anything happens. Norris has had entire charge of the mills for a +long time. And Budge and Harkness can take care of things here."</p> + +<p>"Madame," the lawyer was moved out of his customary reserve, "are you +not possibly running away from what may bring you happiness—and +comfort?"</p> + +<p>For the space of a moment the real heart of the woman shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> running away. I might learn to love this boy and he might not be +what the head of the house of Forsyth <i>should</i> be and I would have to +send him back. And my heart has been torn enough. It is tired. I have a +whim to find new places—new things—to rest—and forget all this."</p> + +<p>There was an interval of silence. Then Mr. Allendyce, lifting his eyes +from the patent-leather tips of his shoes, said quietly:</p> + +<p>"I will carry out your commands to the best of my ability."</p> + +<p>There followed, then, a great deal of discussion over details. And, +while carefully jotting figures and memoranda in a neat, morocco bound +note-book, the little man of law felt as though he were writing the +opening chapters of some fairy-tale.</p> + +<p>Yet there was little of the fairy-tale in the old, empty house, a +melancholy house in spite of its wealth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> of treasure, brought from every +country on the globe. And there was nothing of romance in the Forsyth +family which had come over to Connecticut from England in the early days +of its settlement and had left to all the Forsyths to come, not only the +beginnings of the Forsyth factory where thread was made by the millions +of spools, and the Forsyth fortune, amassed by those same spools, but +also a deal of that courage which had helped those pioneers endure the +hardships and meet the obstacles of the early days.</p> + +<p>Her business at an end, Madame expressed embarrassment at her +inhospitality in denying Mr. Allendyce his cup of tea. Would he not stay +and dine with her? Mr. Allendyce did not in the least desire to dine +alone with his client but the Wassumsic Inn was an uninviting place and +New York was a three hours' ride away. So he accepted with a polite show +of pleasure and assured Madame that he could amuse himself in the +library while she dressed for dinner.</p> + +<p>Left to himself, the lawyer fell to pacing the velvety length of the +library floor. This led him to one of the long windows. He stopped and +looked out through it across the sloping lawns which surrounded the +house. A low ribbon of glow hung over the edge of the hills which lay to +the west of the town. Silhouetted against it was the ragged line of +roofs and stacks which were the Forsyth Mills.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> Familiar with them +through years of business association, the little man of law visualized +them now as clearly as though they did not lay wrapped in evening +shadow; he saw the ugly, age-old walls, the glaring brick of the new +additions, the dingy yards, the silver thread of the river and across +that the rows upon rows of tiny houses piled against one another, each +like its neighbor even to the broken pickets surrounding squares of +cinder ground. He knew, although his eyes could not see, that these +yards even now were hung with the lines of everlasting washing, that men +lounged on those back doorsteps and smoked and talked while women worked +within preparing the evening meals. These human beings were machines in +the gigantic industry upon which the House of Forsyth was founded. Did +Madame ever think of them as flesh and blood mortals—like herself? +Cornelius Allendyce smiled at the question; oh, no, the Forsyth +tradition, of which Madame talked, built an impenetrable wall between +her and those toilers.</p> + +<p>Staring at the gray hard line of shadow that was the tallest of the +chimneys the man thought how like it was to Madame and old Christopher +Forsyth. His long connection with the family and the family interests +gave the lawyer an intimate understanding of them and all that had +happened to them. And it had been much. Mr. Allendyce himself often +spoke of the "curse" of Gray Manor. Christopher Forsyth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> and Madame had +had one son, Christopher Junior. Allendyce could recall the elaborate +festivities that had marked the boy's coming of age, the almost royal +pomp of his wedding. Three years after that wedding the young man and +his wife had been drowned while cruising with friends off the coast of +Southern California.</p> + +<p>This terrible blow might have crushed old Christopher but for the +toddling youngster who was Christopher the Third. The grandfather and +grandmother shut themselves away in Gray Manor with the one purpose in +life—to bring up Christopher the Third to take his place at the head of +the House of Forsyth.</p> + +<p>At this point in his reflections Mr. Allendyce's heart gave a quick +throb of pity—he knew what that handsome lad had been to the old +couple. He thought now how merciful it had been that old Christopher had +died before that cruel accident on the football field in which the lad +had been fatally injured. The brunt of the blow had fallen upon Madame. +And after the boy's death, a gloom had settled over her and the old +house which nothing had seemed able to dispel. As a last desperate +resort the lawyer had suggested, with a courage that cost considerable +effort, the finding of this other heir.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce had known very little of that "other branch" of the +family. Old Christopher had had a younger half-brother, Charles, who, at +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> time Christopher took over the responsibilities of the head of the +family, went off to South America where he married a young Spanish girl. +And from the moment of that "low" marriage, as old Christopher had +called it, to the investigation by Mr. Allendyce's agents, nothing had +been heard at Gray Manor of this Charles Forsyth.</p> + +<p>It had cost considerable money to trace him down but, accomplished, Mr. +Allendyce had with satisfaction tabulated the results in his neat little +note-book. Charles had died leaving one son, James. James had one child, +Gordon. They lived at 22 Patchin Place, New York City.</p> + +<p>The thought of the fairy story flashed back into the lawyer's mind. He +knew his New York and he knew Patchin Place, where poverty and ambition +elbowed one another, and squalor stabbed at the heart of beauty. This +Gordon Forsyth had his childhood amid this, lived on the rise and fall +of an artist's day-by-day fortune. Now he would be taken from all that, +brought to Gray Manor, put under special tutorage, so that, some day he +could step into that other lad's place. If that didn't equal an Arabian +Night's tale!</p> + +<p>"I'll go down to Patchin Place myself. I'd like to see their faces when +I tell them!" he declared aloud, with a tingle within his heart that was +a thrill although the little man did not know it.</p> + +<p>Harkness coughed behind him. He turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> quickly. Harkness bowed stiffly. +"Madame awaits you in the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>The little man-of-the-law's chin went out. "Madame awaits—" Poor old +Madame; she would not have known how to come in and say "Let us go out +to dinner." There had to be all the ceremony and fuss—or it would not +have been Gray Manor and Madame Christopher Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll find her," Mr. Allendyce growled. Then he was startled +out of his usual composure by catching the suggestion of a twinkle in +the Harkness eye which, of course, should not be in a Forsyth butler's +eye at all.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2><h3>RED-ROBIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>For twenty-five years Cornelius Allendyce had worn nothing but black +ties. On the morning of his contemplated invasion of Patchin Place in +search of a Forsyth heir he knotted a lavender scarf about his neck and +felt oddly excited. Such a sudden and unexplainable impulse, he thought, +must portend adventure.</p> + +<p>With a notion that all artists were "at home" at tea time, Mr. Allendyce +waited until four o'clock before he approached his agreeable task. At +the door of 22 Patchin Place he dismissed his taxicab and stood for a +moment surveying the dilapidated front of the building—with a moment's +mental picture of the magnificent pile that was Gray Manor.</p> + +<p>A pretentious though slightly soiled register just inside the doorway, +told him that "James Forsyth" lived on the fifth floor, so the little +man toiled resolutely up the narrow, steep stairway, puffing as he +ascended. It was necessary to count the landings to know, in the dimness +of the hallway, when he reached the fifth floor. He had to pause outside +the door to catch his breath; a moment's nausea seized him at the smell +of stale food and damp walls.</p> + +<p>But at his knock the door swung back upon so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> much sunshine and color +that the little man blinked in amazement. A mite of a girl with a halo +of sun-red hair smiled at him in a very friendly fashion.</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. James Forsyth live here?" It seemed almost ridiculous to ask +the question for surely it must be some witch's cranny upon which he had +stumbled.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But Jimmie isn't home. Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce stared about the room—a big room, its size enhanced by +the great glass windows and the glass skylight. Everywhere bloomed +flowers in gayly painted boxes and pots and tubs. And after another +blink Mr. Allendyce perceived that there were a few real chairs, very +shabby, and a table covered with a cloth woven in brilliant colors and +some very lovely pictures hanging wherever, because of the windows and +the sloping roof, there was any place to hang them.</p> + +<p>The young girl closed the door, whereupon there came a gay chirping from +birds perching, the bewildered lawyer discovered, in various places +around the room quite as though this corner of a tenement was a +woodland.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Bo, hush. They're dreadfully noisy. They love company. Won't you +sit down?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce sat gingerly upon the nearest chair. His companion pulled +one up close to him. He perceived with something of a shock that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +limped and at this discovery he looked at her again and drew in a quick +breath.</p> + +<p>Why, here was the oddest little thing he had ever seen. He had thought +her a child, yet the wide eyes, set deep and of the blue of midnight, +had a quaint seriousness and understanding; in the corner of her lips +lingered a tender droop oddly at variance with the childish dimple of +the finely moulded chin. Though the girl's red hair—like flame, as the +lawyer had first thought, gave her an alive look, the little form under +the queer straight dress was diminutive to frailty.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Robin Forsyth. Jimmie calls me Red-Robin because I hop when I walk."</p> + +<p>"Is Jimmie your—"</p> + +<p>"He's my Parent. Do you know Jimmie?"</p> + +<p>"N-no, not—exactly." The little man was wondering how his investigators +had failed to report this young girl.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie ought to be here soon. He went out to sell a picture to old Mrs. +Wycke. She wanted it but she wanted it cheap, Jimmie says. But we didn't +have anything to eat today so he took the picture to her and he's going +to bring back some cake and ice cream. We'll have a party. Will you +stay?"</p> + +<p>"Good heavens," thought Allendyce, startled at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> her astonishing +frankness. He reached out and patted the small hand.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind. Does your Jimmie sell—many pictures?"</p> + +<p>"Not many—I heard him and Mr. Tony talking. Mr. Tony's his best friend. +If it were not for me Jimmie'd go away with Mr. Tony. Mr. Tony writes, +you see, and he wants Jimmie to illustrate for him."</p> + +<p>"And where is your brother Gordon?"</p> + +<p>Robin stared. "My—brother—Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Gordon—"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> am Gordon."</p> + +<p>"You!"</p> + +<p>"My real name is Gordon but Jimmie doesn't like it. He always said it +was too formal for a little girl. So he calls me Red-Robin and he says +he'll never call me anything else. Why do you look so funny?"</p> + +<p>For Mr. Allendyce seemed to have crumpled together and to be quite +speechless.</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>you</i> think I'm too, oh, sort of insignificant, to be Gordon? I +like Robin much better."</p> + +<p>The lawyer did not hear her. Here was a fine balking of all his and +Madame's plans. The Forsyth heir! That that heir should be a girl had +never entered their calculations. And a little lame girl at that; Mr. +Allendyce suddenly recalled how Madame had worshipped the splendid +manliness of young Christopher the Third.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there anything the matter with you, Mr.—why, you haven't told me +your name!"</p> + +<p>With a tremendous effort Cornelius Allendyce pulled himself together. He +flushed under the wondering wide-eyed scrutiny of his companion, who +reached out and laid a small, warm hand upon his.</p> + +<p>"You're not ill, are you?" with solicitude.</p> + +<p>"No—no, my dear. No, I am not ill. But I am upset. You see—I came +here—well, I call it—a most interesting story. Up in Connecticut +there's a small town and a very big mill which has been there for ever +so long, heaping up millions of dollars. And there's a very big house +there that looks like a castle because it's built of gray stone and is +up on a hill—it has everything but the moat itself. And an old lady +lives there all alone." The lawyer paused, a little frightened at a wild +thought that was persistently creeping up over his sensibilities. It +must be the lavender tie or the witchery of the flowers and the absurd +chirping birds.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the old Dragon!" cried Robin, delightedly, with a chuckle as +though she knew all about the old lady and the lonely castle. "That's +what Jimmie calls her—poor old thing. Jimmie says she must be +dreadfully unhappy in that lonely old house after all that's happened +there."</p> + +<p>"Do you—do you mean that—you <i>know</i>—"</p> + +<p>"About those rich Forsyth's? Why, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> course. That's Jimmie's pet +story—about his terrible relatives."</p> + +<p>"But your father has never—"</p> + +<p>"Seen her? Oh, no. Jimmie's very proud, you see. And he thinks one good +picture is worth more than any old fortune or mill or anything. Oh, +Jimmie's wonderful. Why, we wouldn't trade our little home here for two +of her castles! Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. He says money +kills genius. Only—" She stopped abruptly, flushing.</p> + +<p>"Only what, my dear—"</p> + +<p>"I ought not to rattle on like this to you. Jimmie says I +am—sometimes—<i>too</i> friendly. I suppose it's because I don't know many +people. But I wish I just had a <i>little</i> money. You see <i>I'm</i> not a bit +of a genius. I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my mother did—or do +a single thing."</p> + +<p>Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that he wriggled on the +rickety chair until it creaked threateningly.</p> + +<p>"If you had money, Miss Gordon—what would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Why I'd run away." She answered with startling promptness. "Oh, I don't +mean that I'm not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. But I'm a +girl and I'm lame, so I'm a—a millstone 'round Jimmie's neck!"</p> + +<p>"What in the world—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Promise</i> you won't ever tell him what I'm saying.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> Oh, he'd feel +dreadfully. You see it's just that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame and +he won't believe that I don't mind a bit—why, I can run and do +everything—and he won't ever go anywhere without me. And an artist +shouldn't have to be tied down; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, when +Jimmie was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now Mr. Tony's going off +for a long cruise in the South Seas on a sailing boat and he wants +Jimmie to go with him. He's going to write stories and he says if Jimmie +sees it all he will make his fortune painting pictures. And he can +illustrate the stories, too. And Jimmie won't go because he won't leave +me. Don't you see what I'd do if I had some money? I'd run away +somewhere and tell Jimmie that he must go with Mr. Tony."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce sprang to his feet and paced up and down the room. In all +his life the world had never seemed so full of youth and color and +adventure as it did at that precise moment; his cautious soul fairly +burst with imaginative daring.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gordon—that's what I came for. I mean, I came to tell this Gordon +Forsyth that the old lady, Madame Forsyth, wanted him to come to Gray +Manor to live—for a year. He's to be tutored there. And if at the end +of a year he is a—"</p> + +<p>"But there isn't any he! Gordon's me."</p> + +<p>"I know. I know. But a Forsyth's a Forsyth."</p> + +<p>"You mean—<i>I</i> might go to—the castle—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, why not? Madame—and I—just took it for granted that you were a +boy, because of your name. But our mistake does not make you any less a +Forsyth or less a possible heir—" The thought was a full-fledged idea +now!</p> + +<p>"Who <i>are</i> you?" broke in Robin, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"I am Cornelius Allendyce, attorney for the Forsyth family. And I am—if +your father consents—your future guardian."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jimmie'll <i>never</i> consent, never!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" pressed the lawyer. "You say you have no—particular genius +to be killed by—money."</p> + +<p>"Would it mean that I'd have to give Jimmie up forever?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear. Indeed no. Madame's plan is that you are to go to Gray +Manor under my guardianship to live for a year. At the end of that time, +if she is satisfied—Why, your father would simply give up any claim—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know Jimmie. He'd never do it, unless—" she paused, her +eyes suddenly wet, "unless—<i>I</i>—gave <i>him</i> up. All his life he's made +sacrifices and given up things for me—big chances. So now—couldn't I +run away with you—and then write and tell him?"</p> + +<p>The Cornelius Allendyce who had lived up to that moment of crossing the +threshold of this fifth-floor witchery would have scorned such a +suggestion as "ridiculous! ridiculous!" But the Cornelius Allendyce of +the lavender tie saw mad possibilities in such a step. Take the girl to +Gray Manor and settle with Mr. James Forsyth afterwards.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span></p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a> +<img src='images/illus-056.jpg' alt='"COULDN'T I RUN AWAY WITH YOU?"' title='' width = '300' height = '481'/><br /> +<span class='caption'>"COULDN'T I RUN AWAY WITH YOU?"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Couldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Why—yes, if you think your father would accept the situation—when he +knew."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd tell him he <i>had</i> to, that he must go away with Mr. Tony. And +he'd go. But, Mr. Allendyce—I couldn't go tonight. I just couldn't let +Jimmie come back with the ice cream and cake and maybe a pumpkin pie +and—not find me here. Our parties are such fun. If you'll come tomorrow +at three o'clock—I'll be ready. But what will the Dragon say when she +sees that I'm a girl?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce suddenly laughed aloud. The whole thing was so very +simple. Madame only waited a telegram from him to set forth upon her +travels. Why let her know that Gordon was a girl until the year had +passed?</p> + +<p>"We will not worry about that, my dear. Madame is going away. She will +not be back at Gray Manor for a long time. I will call at +three—tomorrow. I trust you will make your Jimmie understand. You know +this is a very unusual step—there are some who might call it +abduction—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jimmie wouldn't!" assured Robin. "Not when I tell him why I'm +running away."</p> + +<p>Robin had answered him so indifferently that Cornelius Allendyce felt her +mind was working out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> a plan for the morrow. He gave a last look about +the room as though he wished to carry away a perfect impression of it, +then patted the girl on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Here is my card and the telephone number of my office. If you decide +that this step is—too irregular, if perhaps we ought to talk with your +father first—"</p> + +<p>"No! No!" cried Robin. "That would spoil everything!"</p> + +<p>Down in the street Cornelius Allendyce waved off a persistent taxi +driver, deciding that he needed the vent of exercise to bring him back +to earth. And as he hurried along he felt a curious elation, as though +for the first time he enjoyed a zest in living. As a lawyer his life had +been necessarily cut-and-dried; there had been little room for +adventuring. And now, in a brief half-hour, he had let himself into the +wildest sort of conspiracy. (He stopped suddenly and mopped his +forehead.) He was planning to deliberately deceive Madame Forsyth, to +steal a young and very unusual girl from her parent—and, to assume the +guardianship of this same runaway. Where would it all end?</p> + +<p>But in that half-hour just past something must have happened to the +little man's conscience for even after the startling summing up, he +laughed and walked on with a step lighter than before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Back on the fifth floor of the old house in Patchin Place Robin leaned +over the table writing a letter. Her task was made the more difficult +because of the tears which blinded her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, I love you more than anything in the world but I am going to +run away and leave you. I am going to the Dragon. She wants an heir. I +am going to live in the castle and have a tutor. And my guardian is +going to be the Dragon's lawyer—he's ever so nice and fathery—so you +see I will be looked after as well as can be. Jimmie dearest-darling, +you must not worry about me or try to make me come back for I'll be all +right and you must go away with Mr. Tony and paint lots and I'll be so +proud. And please, please Jimmie, make Aunt Milly promise to take care +of the birds and the flowers for they mustn't die. And you will write to +me, won't you? Good-bye, Jimmie, don't forget your hot milk at night. +Yours always and always, Red-Robin."</p> + +<p>She had just signed the letter when James Forsyth opened the door. She +thrust it into her pocket as she turned to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Jimmie</i>!" she cried, for under his arm he carried the picture he +had taken to sell to Mrs. Wycke.</p> + +<p>"She didn't want it," he explained, testily.</p> + +<p>The girl had been well schooled in disappointment; not the slightest +shadow now crossed her face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Someone</i> will, Jimmie," she declared, brightly, taking the heavy +package from him. "And you said yourself Mrs. Wycke couldn't tell a +chromo from a masterpiece. We don't want her to have our picture anyway. +I'm not a bit hungry—are you, Jimmie? Let's sit here all cosy and you +read to me—" and thinking of the note that lay in her pocket, she +reached up very suddenly and kissed her Jimmie to hide the break in her +voice.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2><h3>JIMMIE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Robin found running away amazingly simple. Poor Jimmie, at her urging, +went out quite unsuspecting. She was so excited and there was so much to +be done at the last moment, that she had no time to think what the +parting with all she loved so dearly must mean to her.</p> + +<p>Promptly at three o'clock Cornelius Allendyce tapped on the door. His +face was very red and moist and his hand, as he reached out for Robin's +bag, shook, but Robin did not notice all that; she slipped quickly +through the door and shut it behind her, as though fearful that at the +last moment she might find it impossible to go.</p> + +<p>Out in the thin sunshine, whirring through the traffic of the crowded +streets, neither spoke for breathlessness. Cornelius Allendyce stared at +the buildings and swallowed at regular intervals to steady his nerves—a +trick he had always found most helpful in important legal trials. Robin +kept her eyes glued on the back of the taxi driver's head but he might +have had two heads and one upside down for all she noticed. Her hands in +her lap were clenched very tight and her lips were pressed in a +straight, thin, resolute line.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span></p> + +<p>But as they kept on past Forty-second street and headed toward Central +Park West the lawyer explained that he was taking her to his own home +for the night.</p> + +<p>"My sister will make you quite comfortable. Tomorrow we will go out to +Wassumsic." He did not say that it was important, too, to give Madame +Forsyth ample opportunity to get away from Gray Manor.</p> + +<p>Robin drew a long breath and relaxed. It had taken so very much courage +to run away that she had little left with which to face her new life. +Tomorrow it might be easier.</p> + +<p>Miss Effie Allendyce took her under her wing in a fluttery, mothery sort +of a way with a great many "my dear's."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," the lawyer had said, looking at the two, "you, Effie, will +have to get Miss Forsyth some clothes tomorrow—"</p> + +<p>"Clothes," Robin cried, astonished. "I—brought some."</p> + +<p>"Well, you probably ought to have some other kind. You see, my dear, you +are a Forsyth of Gray Manor now." He turned to his sister. "Effie, can +you get all she needs—everything, before tomorrow at three o'clock?"</p> + +<p>Effie's eyes danced at such a task—indeed, she could. She knew a shop +where she could buy everything that a girl might need.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I'll leave you two to make out lists. Isn't that what you have to +do?"</p> + +<p>So, for a few hours the making of these amazing lists kept Robin's +thoughts from that little fifth floor home and Jimmie. Miss Effie began +with shoes and finished with hats, with little abbreviations in brackets +to include caps and scarfs and all sorts of things. "It is very cold in +Wassumsic," she explained, "and you will live a great deal out of doors. +It is very lovely," she added, making a round period after "sweater."</p> + +<p>And there was another list which included a wrist watch and a writing +set. "They can send on most of these things," she pondered.</p> + +<p>Robin slyly pinched herself to know that she was still a +living-breathing girl; all seemed as unreal as though she had slipped +away into a magician's world.</p> + +<p>But the lists completed, dinner over, alone with her new guardian, an +overwhelming loneliness swept her. Cornelius Allendyce, turning from a +protracted study of the blazing fire, was startled to find the girl's +head pillowed in her arm, her shoulders shaking with smothered sobs.</p> + +<p>"My dear! My dear!" he exclaimed, very much as Miss Effie would have +done.</p> + +<p>"I—I can't help it. I tried—"</p> + +<p>Poor Robin looked so very small in the big chair that remorse seized +Cornelius Allendyce. How could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> he have taken this little girl from her +corner, shabby as it was?</p> + +<p>It was not too late—</p> + +<p>"Miss Gordon," he began a little uneasily, wondering what guardians did +when their wards were hysterical. "My dear, don't cry, I beg of you. +Come, it is not too late to go back. We will explain—"</p> + +<p>Robin lifted her head. "I—I don't want to go back. But I was thinking +of Jimmie. He must be awfully lonesome—now. You see you don't know +Jimmie. He depends on me to remind him of things like his hot milk. And +just at first, it will be hard. But, no, no, I don't want to go back."</p> + +<p>"Then I would suggest that you go to bed. You are doubtless very tired +from the excitement of everything. And tomorrow will be a busy day—and +an interesting day."</p> + +<p>Robin drew herself slowly from the chair. She limped over to the divan +upon which Cornelius Allendyce sat. Her eyes were very steady, dark with +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed I cried. I won't do it again. But I want you to know, oh, +you must know, that I'm not going to Gray Manor because of all those +clothes and the money or anything like that. There could not be anything +at Gray Manor as nice as Jimmie's and my bird-cage. But I want Jimmie to +have his chance—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span></p> + +<p>Left alone, Cornelius Allendyce found himself haunted by Robin's "Jimmie +must be awfully lonesome." What a strange pair—the quaint old-young +girl living in a world which circled around this father—the father, by +the girl's own assertion, "depending" upon the girl. And little Robin, +scarcely more than a child, realizing that she hindered the man's +development, talking about giving him "his chance" and at such cost—and +promising that she would not cry again. "There's bravery for you!" +muttered the lawyer aloud.</p> + +<p>He believed that Miss Effie's lists of finery and knick-knacks held +little attraction for the girl.</p> + +<p>He recalled Madame Forsyth's scornful "that other branch of the family." +Yet this James Forsyth and Gordon had lived for years and often in want +in New York City, and had never approached Madame for as much as a +penny. Robin had said Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. Could he +paint if he lost her?</p> + +<p>Suddenly Cornelius Allendyce had a vivid understanding of the tie that +bound these two. And it was unthinkable that this man would let the girl +go and do nothing. Yet it was not of any possible embarrassment <i>he</i> +might suffer that Cornelius Allendyce thought at this moment; it was of +the heartbreak of the father. He had not considered him at all; carried +away by a mad impulse he had let himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> listen to a child and had lost +his own sense of justice. Why, it had been rank robbery! He must go to +this man at once. Muttering to himself he went in search of his hat and +coat.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>For the third time the little lawyer climbed the flights of stairs at 22 +Patchin Place. And this time, so eager was he to square himself with +Robin's Jimmie, he ran up the steps. He knocked twice and when no one +answered he opened the door quietly and walked in.</p> + +<p>A man sat at the little table, his head dropped in his outflung arms. +Cornelius Allendyce knew it was Jimmie. Another man stood over him, his +face flushed with impatience. "Mr. Tony," thought the lawyer. He was +evidently just drawing breath after a heated argument.</p> + +<p>"Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I knocked but I do not think you heard +me." Allendyce stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed out of +place at this moment. "I am Cornelius Allendyce," he finished humbly and +guiltily. "I came back to—explain."</p> + +<p>James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement as though he would spring +at the little lawyer's throat. Mr. Tony held him back.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie—wait. Let him talk."</p> + +<p>"It was Miss Robin's wish to slip away without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> telling you. She said +you would not let her go and she had quite made up her mind to give +you—what she calls—your chance. She has an idea that she ties you +down—"</p> + +<p>Jimmie choked as a sob strangled in his throat. His anger suddenly +melted to abjection. Mr. Tony laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and +turned to the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"The girl is right. She's a wonderful little thing. She always could see +further ahead than her Dad. I have been telling my pal that this is the +best thing all around that could happen—a fine bit of luck for +everyone. Robin will go up to Gray Manor and be as happy and safe as can +be and her father can travel and work—the way Robin wants him to. Robin +took rather unusual means to gain her end but—well, she knew what she +was doing."</p> + +<p>Jimmie turned to Cornelius Allendyce and studied his face with a +desperate keenness.</p> + +<p>"She isn't like other children," he began slowly. "Poor little crooked +kiddie. She's sensitive. I've kept her away from everything that could +hurt her. I've tried—to make up to her. I thought she was happy; I did +not know she guessed—or knew—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Tony had taken a few steps down the room. He wheeled now and came +back with a set expression on his face as though he had to say something +disagreeable and must get it over with.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, suppose, just for once, you look your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> soul straight in the +eye—honest. Now isn't it the artist heart of you that's hurt by Robin's +crooked little body—and not the child? Don't you keep her shut up in +here because, when people stare at her—<i>you</i> suffer? Have you been fair +to her? Oh, yes—you love her, all right. Well, then, let her go. Robin +thinks she's giving you your chance—well, <i>I</i> say, give the girl her +own."</p> + +<p>"I tell you Robin's different—she doesn't want money or clothes!"</p> + +<p>"Well, pretty things—and good food—can make even a 'different' girl's +heart lighter. Come, old man, go off with me on this cruise and work +your head off and at the end of the year—if Robin's not happy there, +well, you can make other plans. I'm like Robin, I believe that give you +a year, you'll do something rather big."</p> + +<p>James Forsyth suddenly lifted a face so boyishly helpless, so defeated, +that Allendyce's heart went out to him. He understood, all at once, what +little Robin had meant when she had said, "You don't know Jimmie!" He +certainly was not like other men.</p> + +<p>"I feel such a—quitter. I promised Robin's mother—I'd make up to the +child for her being lame—the way <i>she</i> would have, if she'd lived. And +I've failed. Why, only last night she went to bed hungry." There +followed a moment of tense silence, then the man went on dully, in a +tone that implied yielding. "I suppose I may know all the circumstances +that led up to—this."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span></p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce proceeded to tell everything from the day of his +interview with Madame to the moment of his consternation upon +discovering that Gordon Forsyth was a girl and not a boy. He repeated +word for word Robin's and his conspiring; he described their flight and +Robin's break down in his library.</p> + +<p>"She had not lost courage—oh, no. But she was thinking of you. She was +afraid you'd forget to take your hot milk at night or something like +that," he finished simply.</p> + +<p>There were other details for the lawyer to explain to James Forsyth, +having to do with allowances and schooling. Then, when everything had +been said that was necessary to be said, James Forsyth rose wearily.</p> + +<p>"If that's all, I'd like it if you two would leave me here—alone." He +held out his hand to Mr. Allendyce. "Understand, if she's not happy—"</p> + +<p>"Our agreement ends."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2><h3>THE FORSYTH HEIR</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harkness' mother had once lived in an English duke's family and Harkness +had been brought up on stories of the ceremonious life there. Therefore +he considered it quite fitting that he should take upon himself the +planning for the reception of the Forsyth heir.</p> + +<p>"I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave waited," he grumbled to +Mrs. Budge. "To 'ave the poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seem +right. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do everything—'"</p> + +<p>"Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just come down from dusting +the "boy's" room. The familiar "clutter," as she had always called it, +had roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face was streaked now +and red. "'Pears to me most you do is talk—and talk big. It's Harkness +this and Harkness that! To be sure <i>my</i> mother was a plain New England +woman—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Budge, now, Budge," interrupted Harkness, consolingly. "No one as +I know is going to dispute that your mother was a plain New England +woman. And we're not going to quarrel at such a rememberable moment, not +we. And we're going to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +Forsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the door—you must stand +at the head of the long line of servants—"</p> + +<p>"Long line of servants! And where do you expect to get them, I'd like to +know? Things have been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since the +gloom came. And that new piece from the village ain't worth her salt's +far as work goes."</p> + +<p>Poor Harkness had to recognize the truth of what Budge said. Since the +"gloom" things <i>had</i> been going at sixes and sevens—inexperienced help +called up from the village to fill any need. He was not to be daunted, +however; there were the gardener and the undergardener and the chauffeur +and the stableman and they had wives who might be induced to put on +their Sunday clothes and join in the ceremonial—all in all, they could +make a fair showing.</p> + +<p>Into the plans for the dinner Mrs. Budge threw herself with her whole +heart. There must be young turkey and cranberry sauce, and a tasty salad +and a good old New England pumpkin pie, which she would make herself, +and ice cream and little cakes with colored frosting—oh, Budge knew +what a boy liked.</p> + +<p>And Harkness would brighten the great dark hall with bitter-sweet and +deck the gloomy rooms with flowers—he knew what was proper for the +coming of the heir of the House of Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"Like as not," Budge said, "'twill be the end to this curse."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> + +<p>So the two old retainers, their hearts full of hope for a new happiness +over Gray Manor, labored until the old house shone and bloomed for the +coming of Gordon Forsyth. And a few minutes before the hour of arrival, +the gardener and the undergardener and the stableman and their wives +came in, breathless with importance; Chloe, the old colored cook, +appeared in a brand new turban and 'kerchief. Mrs. Budge, her gray hair +brushed back tighter than ever, donned her black silk which she had not +worn since young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and took her place at +the head of the line just a foot or two behind Harkness who, of course, +had the honor of opening the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Budge, however, watched the service door at the end of the long +hall with fretful eyes. "That piece," she confided to Harkness, the +moment not being so important as to still her grumbling, "said she +wouldn't come in. And when I told her she could just choose t'wixt this +and the door she said she wouldn't dress up, anyways. Impertinent chit! +Thinks she's too good for the place. Things <i>have</i> gone to sixes and +sevens—"</p> + +<p>Harkness was holding his watch in his hand. And just as he shut it with +a significant click, a tall dark-haired girl in a plain gingham dress +slipped into the room and took her place at the end of the line, at the +same moment casting a defiant glance at the knot which adorned the back +of Mrs. Budge's head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span></p> + +<p>Above the low murmur of voices came the throb of a motor.</p> + +<p>"It's him!" cried Harkness, a catch in his voice. Mrs. Budge shut her +eyes tight from sheer nervousness. There was a visible straightening and +a rustling of the line. Then Harkness threw the door open and bent low.</p> + +<p>On the threshold stood a small girl; her eyes, under the fringe of red +hair, wide with excitement, frightened.</p> + +<p>Harkness had opened his lips for his little speech of welcome but the +first sound died with a cackle in his throat, leaving his mouth agape. +He stared at the little creature and beyond her at Cornelius Allendyce, +who was superintending the unloading of several bags and boxes.</p> + +<p>Where was Gordon Forsyth?</p> + +<p>Turning, Mr. Allendyce, at one glance, took in the situation. He bustled +up the steps, and thrust a bag in Harkness' limp hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, we're here!" he cried cheerily, ignoring the amazement and +disappointment that fairly tingled in the air. "And a fine welcome +you're giving us!" He turned to Robin, who stood rooted to the +threshold. "My dear, these people have served the Forsyths faithfully +and for a long time. Harkness, this is Gordon Forsyth. Mrs. Budge—"</p> + +<p>He drew aside to let Robin enter. And Robin, conscious of startled, +curious eyes upon her, limped into her new home. Harkness, because he +had to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> do something, closed the door slowly behind her.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure—we were expecting—" he mumbled.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce imperiously waved off whatever Harkness was expecting.</p> + +<p>"We hope, Mrs. Budge, you are prepared for two hungry people. We lunched +very early and the ride here is always tiresome. In Madame's absence, I +am sure you will take care of Miss Gordon and—me." There was the finest +inflection on the "miss." "I shall stay a day or two. Robin, my dear, +this is your new home."</p> + +<p>Robin had been biting her lips to keep them steady. There was something +so terrible in the great hall, the broad stair that lost itself in a +cavern of darkness above, the brilliant lights, the staring faces. Her +eyes swept from Mrs. Budge's stony face down the line and crossed the +curious glance of the dark-haired girl in the gingham dress. Robin's +brightened, for the girl was young, but the girl flushed a dark red, +tossed her head and stalked through the narrow service door out of the +room.</p> + +<p>Robin turned to Cornelius Allendyce and clung to his arm. He seemed the +one nice friendly thing in the whole place. And, as though he knew how +she felt, he patted her hand in a way that seemed to say, "Courage, my +dear."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Budge recovered her tongue. "She'll not be wanting the young +<i>master's</i> room," she said crisply. "Madame's orders—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would suggest that Miss Gordon decide for herself what room she will +have." The lawyer's voice carried a rebuke that was not lost upon the +housekeeper. "Harkness, carry the bags upstairs and Miss Gordon and I +will follow."</p> + +<p>So Harkness' reception line broke up; the gardener and the undergardener +and their wives following Mrs. Budge's stiff back out through the +service door while Harkness led Robin and her new guardian up the broad +stairway.</p> + +<p>In the kitchen, for very want of strength, Mrs. Budge flopped into a +chair.</p> + +<p>"Sixes and sevens!" she gasped. "I'll say that things <i>are</i> just going +to sixes and sevens. I've always distrusted all lawyer-men and this one +ain't a bit different. Bringing a <i>girl</i> here, and a cripple. Did you +ever hear the like?" She looked from one to the other of Harkness' +retainers and answered herself with the same breath. "You never did. +Don't know when I've been so flabbergasted. Mebbe she's a Forsyth but +she ain't a worth-while Forsyth. She ain't. As if a girl could step into +our boy's shoes." She sniffed audibly. "She don't take in Hannah Budge."</p> + +<p>When Harkness appeared there was a fresh outburst and a reiteration that +Hannah Budge "wasn't going to be taken in by a piece no bigger'n a pint +of cider."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, the girl's here—and hungry," Harkness retorted with meaning +abruptness.</p> + +<p>A sense of duty never failed to spur poor Budge. She rose, now, quickly. +"Humph, like as not with everything else going to sixes and sevens that +old Chloe's forgot her turkey," and with a heavy sigh that fairly +rattled the stiff silk on her bosom she went off in search of the cook.</p> + +<p>Robin found much difficulty in choosing her room for they all seemed +equally lovely in the perfection of their furnishings. She had stood for +a moment in the door of the south room that had been Christopher the +Third's. "Here's where they'd have put you if you were a boy," her new +guardian had told her. In spite of Mrs. Budge's efforts at cleaning and +dusting, a melancholy hung over the room and about all the boyish things +there was such a sense of waiting that Robin was glad to turn away. +Finally she decided upon a west room the windows of which overlooked the +valley and the hills beyond.</p> + +<p>"Oh, wouldn't Jimmie love that?" she had cried, lingering in one of the +windows. "He loves hills, and doesn't that river look like a silver +ribbon tying the brown fields?"</p> + +<p>The bedroom opened on one side into a sitting room with a bay window, on +the other into a tiny bathroom, shining and gleaming with nickel and +tile.</p> + +<p>"Oh, everything's <i>lovely</i>," and Robin ecstatically clasped her hands. +"Only what'll I ever do with everything so big!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span></p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce laughed at her dismay. To be sure he had not spent +his life in such tiny quarters as the bird cage and he could not +understand the girl's state of mind.</p> + +<p>"My dear, after a little everything will seem quite natural. And +remember—everything is at your command. This is your home. You are +Gordon Forsyth. You will not have time to be lonely."</p> + +<p>Robin's serious face suddenly broke into a bright smile. She patted the +garland of roses which held back the silk hangings.</p> + +<p>"I just had the funniest feeling, as if I were not me at all but all of +a sudden someone else. Ever since I was a very little girl I've often +played that I lived a make-believe story—I make it like all the fairy +stories jumbled together. And I fit all the people I know into the +different characters. Jimmie lets me play it because I am alone so much +and it keeps me happy. Sometimes he even plays it with me. It makes +horrid things seem nice. And Jimmie never wanted me to know the boys and +girls at school—because I'm lame, I guess—so I always pretended things +about them and gave them names. You should have seen Bluebeard." She +laughed at the recollection. "And now I'm going on playing. I'm the +little beggar-maid who awakens to find her self in the castle. Do you +suppose there's a fairy godmother somewhere? And—a prince?"</p> + +<p>And Cornelius Allendyce who had never read a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> fairy story in his life, +let alone acted one, laughed with her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, this is another chapter in your story."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and don't you wish we could just peek to the end and see how it all +turns out? But that isn't fair. And we couldn't—anyway."</p> + +<p>Her new guardian shook his head. "No, we couldn't—anyway."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2><h3>BERYL</h3> +</div> + +<p>A bell tinkling somewhere in the house wakened Robin the next morning. +Through the flowered chintz curtains of her window the sun shone with a +warmth out of all keeping with the time of the year, throwing such a +joyous glow about everything in the room that she rubbed her eyes to be +sure she was not dreaming.</p> + +<p>The evening before, everything had seemed so strange that Robin had not +been able to take in small things; now an immense curiosity to explore +Gray Manor, and the grounds that were like Central Park, and the little +town, and the hills around it, seized her. She slipped her feet out of +bed and into the satin slippers which had been one of Miss Effie's +purchases. She dressed with feverish haste, rebuking herself for having +slept so late, for her new wrist watch told her it was after ten +o'clock.</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock—why, on Patchin Place the morning was almost over at that +hour, the streets about thundering with the work of the day. And here it +was as still as night, or as—a church on a weekday, Robin thought.</p> + +<p>Dressed, she opened the door of her room very quietly and peeped +curiously out. And there in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> wide hall, dusting an old highboy, was +the girl with the dark hair.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" exclaimed Robin, delighted at the encounter.</p> + +<p>The girl stared for a moment. She was tall and thin; her eyes so +intensely blue as to look black and startling in their contrast to the +whiteness of her skin. They were brooding, smoldering eyes and a too +frequent scowl was making tiny lines between the straight black +eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this the wonderfulest morning?" Robin advanced, stepping nearer. +"What is your name? I'm Robin—I mean Gordon Forsyth."</p> + +<p>"I know that. My name's Beryl but I guess it doesn't make much +difference to you what I'm called. The man who came with you's waiting +downstairs."</p> + +<p>In spite of this rebuff Robin lingered for a moment, hopeful of a +pleasanter word. But the girl Beryl shouldered her duster and marched +off, head high.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to find out more about her right off," determined Robin as +she went in search of her guardian.</p> + +<p>The big rooms below, like her own room, looked very different in the +morning light, even cheery. Mr. Allendyce greeted her with a smile and +Harkness' "Good-morning, Miss Gordon," had pleasant warmth. It was fun +to sit in the high-backed chair before the shining silver and the +flowers and to choose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> between grapefruit and frosted orange juice. So +fascinated was Robin that she forgot for the time, her interest in the +girl she had encountered upstairs.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of Gray Manor in daylight?" asked Mr. Allendyce +as the two walked into the library.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's more like a great castle than ever. But it isn't—half as bad +as I thought it was." When Robin caught the amused twinkle in her +guardian's eye she added hastily: "I mean, it isn't gloomy and sad at +all. It's so beautiful—and I love beautiful things."</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce thought suddenly that it was the first time for a long +time <i>he</i> had seen these rooms when they had not seemed overhung with +melancholy. But he checked any expression of the thought; instead he +took Robin on a tour through the library and drawing rooms, pointing out +to her the treasures which had been brought from every corner of the +world. There were rare tapestries and bronzes, and tiny ivory carvings +and tables inlaid with bright jade and old crystal candelabra, and +quaint chests and wonderful paintings and rare old books. As he told the +story of each, Cornelius Allendyce marvelled at the girl's quick +appreciation and intelligent interest. Her Jimmie had evidently gathered +travelled people about him and Robin had been always a sharp listener.</p> + +<p>Then Harkness interrupted their pleasant occupation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> by appealing to +Robin for "his orders" with such a comical solemnity that Robin had +difficulty suppressing a nervous giggle. Her guardian came to her rescue +with the suggestion that they drive about the town and the mills, have +an early tea and an early dinner and dispense with luncheon.</p> + +<p>"Must I tell him every day just what I want?" thought Robin, in dismay.</p> + +<p>The girl's active imagination could well picture the imposing motor +which came to the door as a coach-and-four, resplendent with regal +trappings. And, cuddled in the wolf-skin robes, flying over the frosty +roads which wound through the hills, it was very easy to feel like a +princess from one of her own stories.</p> + +<p>Only the mills spoiled her lovely day. The evening before they had +loomed obscurely and interestingly but in broad daylight they were ugly. +The great chimneys belched black smoke into the beautiful blue of the +sky; the monotonous drone of many machines jarred the hillside quiet. +Everything was so dusty and dirty—even the tiny houses where the men +lived. Robin, brought up though she had been in Patchin Place, turned in +disgust from the dreary ugliness about her.</p> + +<p>"Does it have to be like that?" she asked her guardian.</p> + +<p>"Like what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—dirty. And so dreary. And noisy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span></p> + +<p>Her guardian laughed. "I'm afraid it does. Work is mostly always +drab—like that. And you see it has grown like a giant. There—there's +the giant for your fairy story, my dear. And giants are usually ugly, +aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, always." Robin spoke with conviction. As they rode on she looked +back over her shoulder. "I'm glad we can't stop today. This ride has +been so lovely that I'd hate to spoil it by—seeing the Giant up close."</p> + +<p>"Giants are very powerful. And usually very rich." Cornelius Allendyce +enjoyed the fancy.</p> + +<p>"Yes—and they crush and kill, too."</p> + +<p>"But didn't a Jack climb something or other and overcome one of them in +his lair?"</p> + +<p>At this Robin laughed and then forgot, for the time being, the mills and +the dirty houses; when Mr. Allendyce hoped Mrs. Budge would give them a +very big tea party, she realized she was hungrier than she had ever been +before.</p> + +<p>So full had been each moment of her first day at Gray Manor that it was +not until she sat curled in the big divan before the library fire, a +book of colored plates of Italian gardens across her lap that she +thought of her determination to know more of the girl who had called +herself Beryl.</p> + +<p>Harkness stood at the long table putting it in order. Harkness seemed +always moving things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> about just so as to put them back in place again.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Harkness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Gordon."</p> + +<p>"Do I know everybody here?"</p> + +<p>"Why—I'm sure—What do you mean, Miss Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"I saw a young girl last night. And I met her in the hall today. Who's +she?"</p> + +<p>"That's a person from the village, Miss Gordon. I don't know as I've +heard her name. Budge mostly calls her a piece. I don't think Budge is +satisfied with her."</p> + +<p>"You mean she works here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Gordon. At least now. She helps Budge. Budge is getting on, +you see. I don't know as I've heard the miss' name. Is there anything +more, Miss Gordon?"</p> + +<p>Harkness had a warm heart under his faded livery and it went out now to +Robin because she looked very small and very much alone in the big room. +He had heard Mrs. Budge's hostile sputter and he knew the lawyer man was +going the next day; little Miss Gordon would be quite without friends at +Gray Manor. So he stepped closer to the divan and in a very human, +friendly way he added: "Excuse me if I'm so bold as to say, you just +count on old Harkness if you want anything, missy."</p> + +<p>Robin caught the kindliness in the man's voice. "Oh, thank you, Mr. +Harkness. I'll be so glad to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> have you for a friend. And won't you +please call me Robin? You see everyone who's ever liked me real well +called me that and it'll make me feel homey here."</p> + +<p>"Well, just between <i>us</i>, Miss—Robin." And the old man went off with a +mysterious smile that even Budge's sour face could not dispel.</p> + +<p>The house was very still. Mr. Allendyce was in his room writing some +letters. The early dinner had been over for sometime. Robin wondered +what Beryl was doing now and where she was—probably upstairs somewhere.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and find her!"</p> + +<p>This was more easily said than done for Gray Manor had wiggly wings and +corridors turning in every direction and little stairs here and there so +that one first went up and then down and then up again. Robin had almost +given up her search and had just about decided she was lost, for turn +whichever way she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard the +harsh, scraping strains of a violin, vibrant with stormy feeling.</p> + +<p>"I'll find that and then maybe it'll be someone who can tell me how to +get back to the library," she thought, laughing silently at the +ridiculousness of being lost in a house, anyway.</p> + +<p>She traced the music to a turning which led into a narrow hallway. At +its end a door stood ajar and from it a light streamed. Robin +approached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the music, +then stood still on its threshold in delighted amazement for the violin +player was the girl for whom she was seeking.</p> + +<p>At sight of Robin the girl flung the violin upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't stop. May I come in? I was hunting for you."</p> + +<p>It was an absurdly small room as compared to the great rooms below, and +very bare. There was one chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, at +the same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said plainly: "What do you +want?"</p> + +<p>Robin ignored her unfriendliness. She sat down on the edge of the bed, +close to Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully glad I found you," she ventured. "You see you're the only +other <i>young</i> person in this house. Though I never had any chums like +most girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds and the flowers +and the Farri children made it—" Robin stopped suddenly, for Beryl was +staring at her with rude amusement. "I—I thought it would be so nice if +you—and I—could be—sort of chums," she managed to finish.</p> + +<p>Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its case +with an angry little slam.</p> + +<p>"I guess it <i>would</i> be sort of," she mocked.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat furiously; it had taken all +the courage she could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> muster to force her advance upon this girl and +Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at Beryl's scornful laugh.</p> + +<p>"Why—we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl answered. "You're—Gordon +Forsyth. And I'm just Beryl Lynch."</p> + +<p>Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of understanding.</p> + +<p>"I don't see—" she began but Beryl would not let her go on. Beryl's +whole soul went out in resentment at what she suspected was +"patronizing." "Not me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, you +just <i>say</i> you can't see. Why I'm like a servant here. Though I won't be +that way long with that old crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn't +want me to do it. But I wanted the money. And I'm going to stick it out, +much as I hate it—"</p> + +<p>Robin watched the other girl's stormy face in an ecstasy of delight. +Here was a creature different from anyone she had ever known; almost her +own age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which she longed to +possess and knew she did not; beautifully straight and tall.</p> + +<p>"I asked old Budge for the place. I heard she wanted someone to help her +and it was work anyone could do. Mother felt dreadfully—she said I'd +hate it. I don't mind the work but I hate—oh, feeling I'm not as good +as anyone here. When Mrs. Budge told me to put on a clean uniform—ugh, +how I hate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> those uniforms—and go down to the hall to meet you, I told +her I wouldn't. She 'most sent me off then and there."</p> + +<p>"You did go, though. I saw you," Robin broke in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I went but I wouldn't change my dress just to spite her. And I +was curious to see the boy they were all making such a fuss about. You +just ought to know how upset they were when <i>you</i> came! Why, old Budge +talked as though it were a disgrace for a Forsyth to be a girl. I was +glad—because it fooled her." Beryl realized suddenly that she was +growing friendily confidential. She sharpened her tone. "<i>You'd</i> better +go down before the old snoop catches you here."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," pleaded Robin.</p> + +<p>"Like what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as though we weren't—well just girls alike and couldn't be +friends. We might have such good times—"</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a funny little kid, aren't you? And you certainly don't know +how things are run in stiff houses like this. If old Budge could hear +you! I don't mind telling you that the old cat keeps saying she's going +to watch you to see if you act like a Forsyth. So you'd better not let +her hear you asking to be friends with me."</p> + +<p>Robin slowly rose to her feet, two bright spots of color flaming in her +cheeks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, I'll—" Her anger died suddenly and a quaint little dignity fell +upon her. She straightened her slender figure and held her head very +high. "I am a Forsyth and I shall act just as I think a good Forsyth +should and not as Mrs. Budge thinks. And please don't think I'm the +least bit afraid of this Mrs. Budge."</p> + +<p>Beryl laughed so gleefully at Robin's defiance that Robin joined in with +her and the friendship for which she sought sprang into being—all +because of an unspoken alliance against the hostile housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"I'll go back now—if you'll show me the way."</p> + +<p>"They <i>ought</i> to have signs at every turning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a funny thought!" And giggling, the two tiptoed through the +winding corridors and down the stairs which led to the second floor.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you tomorrow," whispered Robin at parting.</p> + +<p>"It won't do—you'll see it won't do!" warned Beryl. "I haven't been in +this house two whole days without knowing what it's like!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2><h3>ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF</h3> +</div> + +<p>The coming of Percival Tubbs to Gray Manor added the one sweet drop to +poor Mrs. Budge's cup of bitterness. Though he brought vividly back +heartbreaking memories of young Chistopher the Third's school days, when +she had waited each day for the lad's boisterous charge upon the kitchen +after the "bite" which was his and her little secret, she hoped to find +in him an ally. <i>He</i> would see how ridiculous it was to have a Forsyth +girl, anyway, and especially a girl who limped around the house like a +scared rabbit, afraid to ask for a crumb. If this Gordon had been a boy, +as they had planned, another comely, happy youth, why, she could have +soon learned to love him. But a girl—how would she look sitting at +Master Christopher's desk, in his chair! Something was all wrong +somewhere, but Percival Tubbs would find out and say what's what.</p> + +<p>With this hope strong in her breast she made excuse to go into the +Chinese room, for the Chinese room was only separated from the library +by heavy curtains through which voices could be easily overheard. And +Harkness had said the lawyer and the tutor were talking in the library.</p> + +<p>Robin's guardian had given much thought to this interview with the +tutor. Robin's fate worried him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> not a little. He had, in the few days, +grown very fond of Robin, and he hated to leave her with Harkness and +Budge and this Percival Tubbs, a poor sort of companionship where a +fifteen-year-old girl's happiness was concerned.</p> + +<p>"I must make Tubbs see that the child is different—" he was thinking +just as Mrs. Budge tiptoed into the Chinese room.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gordon is not like other children and you'll have to plan your +school work a little differently with her," he began, speaking slowly. +"She's bright enough and knows much more about some things than most +girls her age—and nothing at all about others. What I want you to do is +to go easy; easy, that's it. I rather imagine she's always taken a lot +on her own shoulders and I don't believe she's ever thought much of +herself. If you can develop a little assertiveness in her—she'll need +it, here—"</p> + +<p>"Yes. She'll need it here," echoed the tutor, because he thought he +ought to say something. He was a tall, lanky man whose shoulders sagged +as though something about them had broken under the strain of being +dignified; his face narrowed from an impressive dome of a forehead to a +straggling Van Dyke beard which he always stroked with the fingers of +his left hand. He was the old type of schoolmaster whom the rapid +forward stride of education had left far behind. His summons to Gray +Manor had come rather in the way of a life-saver and he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> not intend +to allow the fact that the Forsyth heir had turned out to be a girl, +perturb him in the least. And so long as his rooms at the Manor were +comfortable, his food good and his salary certain, he could adapt +himself to any fool theory this lawyer guardian might care to advance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce stared hard at the other, his face wrinkled in his effort +to say the right thing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let her have her head," he finished finally. And he liked that idea +so well that he repeated it. "Let her have her head. Do you understand +me? Never mind what's in the old schoolbooks. If she'd rather take a +walk than study Latin verbs, well, let her. I want her to be happy +here—happy, that's most important. You've heard of flowers that bloom +only in shelter and sunshine? This youngster isn't unlike—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I never! No, I <i>never!... I never!</i>" Mrs. Budge's gasp, rising in +a crescendo, almost betrayed her presence. She gave a pillow a mighty +jab. As though it were not bad enough to bring the girl to the house in +the first place without paying a man a fancy price to teach her to have +her own way! "Flowers! Humph! Old fools—" Unable to endure another word +in silence she stalked off to her own quarters.</p> + +<p>In the butler's pantry she found Beryl arranging real flowers in a +squatty Bristol glass bowl and humming gaily as she did so. Now Beryl +should have beep upstairs marking the new linen and she should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> not be +singing as though she owned the whole world. These two transgressions +and the sight of the bright blossoms in the girl's hand brought the +climax to the old woman's wrath. All Beryl's shortcomings tumbled off +her tongue in an incoherent flow of ill-temper. A stormy scene resulted +which left the old housekeeper spent and Beryl blazing with indignation.</p> + +<p>Consequently, when poor Robin, depressed from her first hour with the +tutor, trying not to feel that Gray Manor was going to be a prison +instead of a castle, sought out her new friend she found her throwing +her few possessions into a cheap suitcase that lay, opened, across her +narrow bed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what are you doing?" cried Robin in alarm.</p> + +<p>"I'm going—that's what. She fired me."</p> + +<p>Robin's first thought upon awaking that morning had been of Beryl; she +had suffered the keenest impatience all through the trying morning, +longing to go in search of her new friend. She could not lose her +now—for a hundred Budges.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I won't let you go!"</p> + +<p>"A lot <i>you</i> could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, tears very close. "I +just can't please the old thing. But I hate to go home." She sat down, +dolefully, on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to stay until I had earned +two hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>Two hundred dollars! That seemed such a very big amount of money to +Robin that she sat silent, thinking about it.</p> + +<p>Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> "I s'pose that +doesn't mean much to you. But it does to me—'specially when I have to +earn it." Then, with a flash of temper: "What do you know about wanting +some one thing with all your whole heart and knowing just where you can +get it and not having the money?"</p> + +<p>Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out her troubles always +brought her a grain of comfort.</p> + +<p>"I've never had a thing in my life that I wanted," she finished.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry."</p> + +<p>"Sorry! Why, a lucky little thing like you are can't even know what I'm +talking about. That's why I said we couldn't be friends. <i>I've</i> had to +work at home like a slave ever since I can remember. Pop's sick all the +time and cross, and poor mother looks so tired and tries to be so +cheerful and brave that your heart aches for her. And even when you're +poor, a girl wants things, pretty things and to do things like other +girls—and work as hard as you can you can't ever seem to reach them. I +get just sick of it. I thought—if I could get this money—"</p> + +<p>"Did you want it for your mother?" broke in Robin, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>Beryl's face flushed redder. "Well, not exactly. That's the way it +always is in books, but in life, when you're poor, it's each fellow for +himself and there's not any time for your grand sounding self-sacrifice. +I wanted it to buy a violin. That thing I've got's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> nothing but a cheap +old fiddle. And I can play—I <i>know</i> I can play, or could if I could get +a good violin. I took lessons from an old Belgian who lived above us and +I played once for Martini at the theatre and he said—but what's the use +of caring? What's the use of <i>thinking</i> about it? All a girl like me can +do is just want big things!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl," breathed Robin, a tremble on her lips. She wanted very much +to make Beryl understand that she was not the "lucky thing" Beryl +thought her; that she knew, too, what it was to want something and not +to have it, though perhaps she had not known it as cruelly as Beryl had, +for Jimmie had always contrived to cover their bleak moments with a +makeshift contentment. "Oh, Beryl, honestly I know just how you feel. I +wish I could help you. Maybe I can. My allowance seems awfully big and I +can't ever spend it all—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not a beggar and I'm not hinting for your money," flared +Beryl.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean—" Robin began, then faltered. Beryl had spoken with such +real anger that she was frightened. Beryl, turning back to her packing, +gathered up an armful of clothing on top of which lay an oblong bundle. +Its wrappings were old and loose so that as Beryl flounced her burden +toward the suitcase, the content of the package slipped out and down to +the floor. Robin stared in amazement for there lay a doll in faded satin +finery.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span></p> + +<p>With a short, ashamed laugh, Beryl picked it up. "<i>That</i> old thing," she +exclaimed, in half-apology.</p> + +<p>Robin caught her arm. "Wait—oh, wait—let me see it!"</p> + +<p>"It's just an old doll I've kept."</p> + +<p>"It—it looks like my Cynthia. Oh, <i>please</i> just let me look at it. It's +like a doll—I lost, once, ever so long ago." She examined the pretty +clothing.</p> + +<p>Now Beryl stared at Robin as though to find in her face a likeness to +the little girl who had deserted her doll.</p> + +<p>"Lost? And I found it in Sheridan Square. A little girl went off and +left it. I waited awhile, then I took the doll home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how funny! How <i>funny</i>! It was me, Beryl. I'd been playing and Mr. +Tony called to me to hurry and I forgot—and you found it. Why, I cried +myself to sleep night after night thinking poor Cynthia was unhappy +somewhere."</p> + +<p>"And I called her my orphan doll and loved her because I thought she +missed her real mother—"</p> + +<p>"She was the loveliest dolly I ever had!"</p> + +<p>"She was the loveliest dolly I ever saw!"</p> + +<p>Both girls burst into a peal of laughter. They sat on the edge of the +bed, the doll between them, the packing forgotten.</p> + +<p>Robin clapped her hands. "And to think we find each other now. It's like +a story. I went back to the park all alone that evening and would have +been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> lost if it hadn't been for my—" she broke off short and flushed. +She was going to tell Beryl about her play-prince but then, Beryl might +laugh and she did not want that.</p> + +<p>Beryl's face suddenly grew grave as she smoothed out a fold of the +doll-garment.</p> + +<p>"I always kept the doll put away. I never played with it because—" She +hesitated a moment. "That night that I found the doll was a dreadful +night. I wasn't quite six but I'll always remember it. At first mother +and I were so happy, over finding the doll and because Pop had just +gotten a raise. It seemed as though everything were going to be +wonderful and we felt as rich as could be. We called the doll a lucky +doll. And mother dressed me up in her green beads that Father Murphy, +back in Ireland, had given her when she told him she was going to marry +Pop. And we had dumplings—ugh, I've hated dumplings ever since. And +then—"</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"They came for Mom, some man from the hospital. Pop had been terribly +hurt. And, well—nothing's been lucky since. It's just as I said; +mother's had to work and Dale's had to work and Pop just sits in a chair +and scolds and—well, I never wanted to take the doll out when mother +could see it—after all that."</p> + +<p>Robin made no effort to conceal how deeply Beryl's story had moved her. +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> sorry. But maybe things will change. They'll have +to—Jimmie always said, it's a long lane that has no turning. I'm so +glad it was you who found my Cynthia. It might have been some one who +wouldn't have loved her at all."</p> + +<p>"I s'pose you ought to have her now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no. She's yours. Anyway, that doesn't matter," and Robin added +triumphantly, "because we're really truly friends now, no matter what +you say. Cynthia has brought us together."</p> + +<p>Beryl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"That old crank—" she began.</p> + +<p>Robin stamped her foot in impatience. "I don't care a bit about Mrs. +Budge. My guardian told me that I could have anything I wanted here just +for the asking and he's made me the silliest big allowance that three +girls couldn't spend. Oh, I've a plan! Ought not a girl like me have a +companion? Don't they most always in books? You shall stay here at Gray +Manor as my—chum."</p> + +<p>Beryl still looked doubtful. "I'm too young—"</p> + +<p>"That's just why I want you. Oh, I just can't bear to think of my +guardian going away and leaving me here alone. You see I promised myself +that I'd be happy while Jimmie's having his chance—that's why I came, +you know. But this house is so big and so old and Mr. Harkness and Mrs. +Budge are so old that I know it's going to be hard not to think of +Jimmie and our lovely home and the birds. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> if you'd stay it would be +easier. Oh, say you will, say you will."</p> + +<p>Beryl stared at Robin with a suspicious scrutiny. She firmly believed +that rich people never did anything except for themselves and Robin, no +doubt, was like all the others. Yet she was such a queer little thing +that perhaps she <i>was</i> trying to be "nice" to her and make a soft place +for her. And Beryl would not allow <i>that</i> for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You can study with me, too. That Mr. Tubbs isn't so very bad. And we'll +read together out of all those books in the library. And play—I never +had a real chum because Jimmie thought the girls and boys who went to +the school I did, might make fun of my being lame. Poor Jimmie, he +always minded my being lame much more than I did because he's an artist +and shivers when anything isn't perfect. You shall have a bed in my +room—there's ever so much space. Oh, say you will."</p> + +<p>Beryl frowned, uncertainly. "I don't want a penny I don't earn. But if I +can really <i>do</i> things for you—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course you can, lots of things. But you shan't wear those +uniforms—for then you wouldn't be a girl like me. Oh, we'll have <i>such</i> +fun. Let's take this stuff right down."</p> + +<p>It took the girls only a very little time to transfer Beryl's belongings +and to establish them in Robin's room, Beryl working mechanically, +unable to believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> her good fortune. Then, at Robin's command, she +followed her while she went in search of her guardian.</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce and Percival Tubbs, sitting in a blue cloud of cigar +smoke, were pleasantly discussing the pros and cons of the tariff +question upon which they agreed, when Robin interrupted them.</p> + +<p>"Please excuse me, but this is very important." Her breathlessness +startled the two men. "I've engaged Beryl to be my chum. I—I thought I +might be lonely here at Gray Manor. I want her to study with me, too. +And do everything. This is she."</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce's mouth had dropped open from sheer amazement; +suddenly it broadened into a grin. Here was Miss Gordon taking her +"head" at once, without so much as one lesson. He glanced at Percival +Tubbs but that good gentleman was stroking his silky beard quite +indifferently.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather have Beryl than anyone else, 'cause she's almost my own age +and we like each other. Shall I tell Mrs. Budge or—"</p> + +<p>"Without so much as a by-your-leave!" murmured the guardian. He surveyed +Beryl; she seemed like a wholesome, spirited sort and the idea of a +little companion for Miss Gordon was not a bad one, not at all—strange +he hadn't thought of it.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Miss Gordon, you'd better tell her yourself. You must +begin—holding your own, my dear. Don't forget—ever, that you are a +Forsyth, and that name has great power over Hannah Budge."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin did not stop to ponder what he meant or why a twinkle shone in his +eyes. She rang the bell as her guardian indicated, then waited with a +resolute squaring of her small chin, for Harkness' coming.</p> + +<p>"Please, Mr. Harkness, will you bring Mrs. Budge here? There's something +I want to tell you both."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Budge, as she hunted out a clean apron, grumbled at the unusual +summons.</p> + +<p>"The girl herself, you say?" she asked, as she followed Harkness to the +library.</p> + +<p>Her astonishment changed to white wrath when Robin, standing by her +guardian's chair, spoke.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to tell you that Beryl Lynch is going to stay here as my +companion. I'm going to give her half of my room so that I won't be +lonely and please set a place for her next to me at the table."</p> + +<p>Once again Cornelius Allendyce caught the twinkle in the butler's eye +which should not be in a Forsyth butler's eye at all. But there was no +twinkle about Mrs. Budge; her cheeks puffed in her effort to speak +without strangling.</p> + +<p>"If that piece—" she began, but she was quickly interrupted from every +side. Both Harkness and Cornelius Allendyce cried out, the one +pleadingly, the other in warning: "Careful, Mrs. Budge." Then Robin +stepped forward and slipped her hand through Beryl's arm.</p> + +<p>"Please, Mrs. Budge, I have made Beryl promise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> to stay. She didn't want +to but I begged her. And if anyone is unkind to her it's just the same +as being—unkind to me. That is all," she finished grandly, with an +imperious little motion of her hand that waved the irate woman from the +room before she knew she was moving.</p> + +<p>"Now you can't say as that wasn't like a Forsyth," asserted Harkness, +proudly, belowstairs. "If Missy wants a young lydy for a companion, +well, she's a right to the kind of young lydy she wants." But Budge had +escaped the reach of his voice.</p> + +<p>In the library Cornelius Allendyce was patting Robin on the head.</p> + +<p>"Well, you've won out in the first skirmish, my dear. But keep your +weapons at hand."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2><h3>THE LYNCHS</h3> +</div> + +<p>The only thing that made the Lynch's cottage any different from the two +hundred others at the mills, was that it stood at the end of a dreary +row and therefore had a window on the side of its living room which +overlooked the hills and the river.</p> + +<p>This window was Moira Lynch's delight. Her poor, big Danny could sit in +it all day long. And from it she herself could watch the setting sun +flame over the crest of the hills and the narrow river shake off its +workaday dress and go racing into the shadows of the woods. Poor Moira, +years of heartbreaking work and worry had not changed her very much from +the girl who had liked to lie in the deep sweet grass of her dear +Ireland and let her fancy follow the winging birds into a land of +dreams.</p> + +<p>The other window of the tiny living room looked out directly upon the +muddy road, across to the freight tracks.</p> + +<p>It was to this window that Moira Lynch ran now, peering as far up the +road as she could see.</p> + +<p>"Beryl's late today," she said, with an anxious note.</p> + +<p>"Well, what if she is? Things don't run by the clock," Danny Lynch +answered testily. "You're always fussing. If it isn't the girl it's over +Dale."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Moira ignored the edge of crossness in her Danny's voice. She went +to him, smoothed the spotless cushion at his back and put a fresh +magazine on his table.</p> + +<p>"It's a silly, worryin' hen I am," she laughed. (But, oh, her laugh was +a tragic thing, for while her lips curved in a smile her eyes shadowed +at their mockery).</p> + +<p>"But things seem a bit different, today," she added, apologetically.</p> + +<p>And just as Danny Lynch's retort of derision died away Beryl burst upon +them.</p> + +<p>Her mother needed only to give her one look to know that something <i>was</i> +different.</p> + +<p>"And what is it, my darlin'? It's that hungry I was getting to set my +eyes on you. Two hours late you are, Beryl."</p> + +<p>Beryl welcomed this reproach as it gave her an opportunity to impart her +good news in an impressive way.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get away a minute sooner. I've a new position." She was +going to say "job" but it did not seem fitting.</p> + +<p>"What? Without so much as a word to your father and mother? And did the +likes of that old housekeeper fire you?"</p> + +<p>Beryl had no intention of telling of her ignominious fray with Mrs. +Budge.</p> + +<p>"I'm engaged to be a companion to Gordon Forsyth!" she answered, +grandly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> + +<p>At this Moira Lynch dropped a spoon with a loud clatter.</p> + +<p>"A companion to—that new boy who's come to the Manor?"</p> + +<p>Beryl, recognizing that her story needed detailed explanation, slipped +off her outer wraps, threw them into a chair, kissed her father lightly +on his cheek, perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to tell the +story of Gordon Forsyth's coming to Gray Manor while her mother listened +with breathless interest.</p> + +<p>"And it's a girl she is—a little lame girl!"</p> + +<p>"The queerest kid you ever saw. Not a bit snippy or rich acting. She +doesn't get at all excited over her new clothes and bossing those old +fogeys around and ordering her motor any minute she wants it. She thinks +the little place she lived in in New York is lots nicer than Gray Manor. +When you look at her you think she's a baby and then when she talks, +why—she seems older than I am! But she's funny like you, Mom; she's +always pretending things are different from what they are and giving +them names. She calls old Budge the wicked woman who wanted to eat the +two children," Beryl giggled. "And she calls the Mills a Giant."</p> + +<p>Moira Lynch's face beamed with joyous understanding. Here was a +fellow-soul, "funny" like herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for whom +black was always and invariably black, and a spade a spade.</p> + +<p>"Why, she even wanted to come down here with me," Beryl finished.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span></p> + +<p>There were so many questions trembling on Moira's tongue that, for the +moment, supper was neglected. Not long, however; the striking of the +clock reminded her that in a very few minutes Dale would be home, +hungry. Her mission in life, next to tending her big Danny, was feeding +her two children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite dessert, a +bread pudding, the eggs for which she had carefully hoarded during +several days' denial. Beryl, keeping up a running fire of talk, spread +the cloth on the centre table and brought the dishes from the cupboard.</p> + +<p>"By'n by, you'll be too fine for the rest of us," broke in big Danny +upon their chatter, the usual discordant tone in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess it won't be your fault if I am," Beryl flared. +"Everything that I've gotten I've gotten for myself and I don't know of +anyone ever trying to help me."</p> + +<p>Like a flash the little mother was between the two, a soothing hand on +the father's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Now don't you two be a-spoiling this night," she laughed a bit +hysterically. "Of course our girl's going to be too fine for anyone, but +it's always a-loving she'll be to her Dad and her Mommy." She declared +it with an ardent triumph. This mother who had once dreamed things for +herself dreamed them now for her boy and girl. From Beryl's infancy she +had taught her to want "fine things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> And Beryl wanted them with all +her heart and, with youth's selfishness, wanted them for herself, alone.</p> + +<p>After her father's taunt, Beryl, with sullen resentment, locked her lips +on her other pleasant experiences. Nor would she tell now how Robin had +written to her guardian to send down a real violin for her to practice +upon, or what fun it was to study with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose ears +were distractingly like Brussels sprouts. And that she learned much, +much faster than Robin did! Poor Robin was always wondering the why of +everything.</p> + +<p>Her mother suddenly exclaimed: "It's Father Murphy's beads you shall +wear this night, my girl. Didn't the good soul, God rest him, give them +with his blessing? Watch the potatoes while I get them."</p> + +<p>Moira's beads had always played a significant part in her life. They +marked what she called her "blessings." Without doubt the rare bright +spots in her life shone like blessings for the dark of their background. +Years ago, when her Danny had had his accident and her world had seemed +to turn upside down until it rested, full-weight, upon her poor +shoulders, her "blessing" had been Miss Lewis at the settlement. Miss +Lewis had given her work so that she could earn money to feed her +family; Miss Lewis had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had found +cheaper lodgings and had helped her make them homelike. Another blessing +had been Jacques Henri, the old Belgian who lived above them and whose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> +violin had attracted Beryl as the magnet draws the iron. A lonely soul, +he had found sweet company in the child and had gladly helped the eager +fingers. Later he had come down to supper with them and Beryl had played +a "piece" for her Pop, wearing the beads in honor of the occasion. When +Beryl had graduated from the graded school she had stood as class +prophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, among them Dale and +herself—wearing the green beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy were +there to see her girl.</p> + +<p>She clasped them around the girl's neck now with fingers that trembled +and eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. During +the little ceremony Dale burst in like a gust of strong, sweet air.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, everybody! M'm'm, something smells good! What's for tonight, +Mom? Salt pork and thick gravy? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. How +goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and everyone in a rush, +from the savory supper to the invalid father whose face had brightened +at his coming.</p> + +<p>"What're you getting all dolled up for, Sis?"</p> + +<p>Beryl and her mother tried to tell the story at the same time. Dale did +not seem at all impressed and Beryl was disappointed. He said he had +heard in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> girl, and lame, +too. He didn't know what difference it made to any of them, anyway. He +scowled a little as he said it.</p> + +<p>Dale had his father's strong body and his mother's face of a dreamer; +his eyes were brooding like Beryl's but his mouth was wide and tender +and might have seemed weak but for the strength in the square cut jaw.</p> + +<p>Since that time, ten years back, when he had resolutely put behind him +his precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he had +been the recognized head of the family. As such he turned to Beryl now.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll let this rich little girl wipe her feet on you and +you'll love it," he said with such scorn that Beryl turned hot and cold +in speechless anger.</p> + +<p>"Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we know the poor little +thing," begged his mother.</p> + +<p>But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing the beads, all joy for the +moment had fled. She had particularly wanted to impress Dale with her +good fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak scathingly and +bitterly of the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness of +things in general, but she had paid little attention to it and could +not, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin. When he met Robin, he'd +understand—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> while Dale ate ravenously and talked to his father +between mouthfuls, she planned how she would bring Robin to supper the +very next time she came home, despite her vow that she would never let +Robin see how humble and small her home was.</p> + +<p>After supper Beryl helped her mother clear away and Dale brought out his +"plaything" which was what he laughingly called the contrivance of +strings and spools and little wooden wheels he had made and which he and +his father "played with" each evening. Beryl had often wondered why Dale +seemed to care so much about it; why he spent hours and hours drawing +and figuring on bits of paper. Of course it amused the father, who, +during the day, cut the spools into tiny wheels, with a sharp +jack-knife; but it must be stupid for Dale to spend all of his evenings +over the silly thing. Beryl often lounged on the back of his chair and +listened to discover whether there was any part of the game she might +like.</p> + +<p>Tonight Dale's interest seemed forced.</p> + +<p>"If I could just find out what's needed <i>here</i>—" he growled, touching +the delicate contrivance. "That's the way! While I'm racking my poor old +nut, some other fellow's going to make the whole thing out!"</p> + +<p>Danny Lynch's big hand trembled where it lay on the table. "If I had had +the learning—" he began. "I could help, mebbe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span></p> + +<p>Dale hastened to comfort him. "You don't get that stuff from books, +exactly, Pop. It comes here," touching his head. "If I only had the +money to have the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use of +talking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm thinking about it all the +time. Say, Mom, can I bring Adam Kraus over to supper some night? He +said he'd like to meet Pop and he's a good sort."</p> + +<p>This Adam Kraus had only recently come to the Mills. He had at first +impressed the neighborhood somewhat unfavorably, for he encouraged a +suggestion of mystery, lived at the Inn, kept aloof from everyone, and +seemed to have no family. Moira's own quick thought of him when Dale had +pointed him out on the road in front of the Mill store was that "he +looked too white for a working man." But he seemed to have singled Dale +out for his advances; Dale thought he was a good sort and had met him +more than half-way; Dale who had had to work too hard by day and study +at night to make any close friendships. Whether she liked him or not, he +should have the best she could offer.</p> + +<p>"<i>I'm</i> going to bring Robin—I mean, Miss Forsyth, down here the next +time <i>I</i> come," broke in Beryl.</p> + +<p>"And of course you can. And Dale shall bring his friend, too."</p> + +<p>"And you can wear your fine beads, Sis," finished Dale, teasingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span></p> + +<p>"And it's a nice pot roast and cabbage salad we'll have, too. And a bit +of the fruit cake with real butter sauce." Wasn't she going to get her +check soon from the store to which she sent her lace?</p> + +<p>So Beryl forgot her vexation and Dale his problem with his wooden toy in +pleasant anticipation of the "dinner party," as Mrs. Moira grandly +called it, out of respect to the pot roast and the fruit cake which Miss +Lewis had sent them and which was hidden away in a huge crock in the +shed.</p> + +<p>"Mom, can't I take the beads back with me? They're so pretty and I +haven't a thing that's nice," begged Beryl as the moment for her to +return to the Manor came.</p> + +<p>"The Princess and the Beggar-maid!" laughed Dale.</p> + +<p>"My fine lady must have her jewels!" added big Danny.</p> + +<p>Beryl flushed under their teasing but held her tongue, for didn't she +always have that picture blazed in her heart of the moment when with her +violin she would hold enthralled her unappreciative family and thousands +of others? <i>Then</i> they would not laugh at her!</p> + +<p>"I'll be ever so careful of them and only wear them once in a while," +she promised.</p> + +<p>Though Mrs. Moira would, of course, have given her children anything +they wanted that was hers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> she hesitated now, not from reluctance to +part with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent past +came the old father's words: "They are only beads. But they'll remind +you of this day." She had been seventeen then—a slip of a girl. Beryl +was almost sixteen now.</p> + +<p>"The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they are!" she laughed, with a +little catch in her voice. "Of course you shall take them."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2><h3>THE LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS</h3> +</div> + +<p>"What'll we do today?"</p> + +<p>Beryl asked the question, turning from her post between the curtains of +Robin's sitting-room. Not in a tone of complaint did she speak, rather +as though weighing which pastime would be most worthy of the unexpected +holiday.</p> + +<p>For poor Percival Tubbs had "neuralgy" and could not leave his room; +Harkness had told them when he carried in their breakfast.</p> + +<p>"<i>This</i> is just the kind of a day you'd like <i>something</i> to happen," +Beryl went on, permitting a sigh to convey how much she would welcome +that something. "It's all gray and mysterious. The hills look awfully +far away. It's lonesomey."</p> + +<p>Robin looked anxiously to her companion. <i>She</i> did not feel lonesome at +all. This room, where they ate their breakfast each morning at Harkness' +suggestion, was cosy and full of inviting books and pretty pictures and +comfy chairs; Harkness was ever so nice and concerned as to their +comfort, they were as secure from Mrs. Budge's hostility as thick walls +and Harkness' vigilance could make them and—best of all, a letter from +her Jimmie, full of Mr. Tony's plans and their contemplated sailing, lay +close to her heart.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span></p> + +<p>"What would you like most to do, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's ask Williams to take us for a long ride—I adore going like +the wind," answered Beryl promptly.</p> + +<p>This suggestion appealed to Robin, who, although she didn't like to "go +like the wind," never tired of riding among the hills. She went +immediately with Beryl to find Williams, the chauffeur. Williams, like +the others around the Manor, with the exception of Mrs. Budge, had +fallen under Robin's spell and was enjoying the stir that her coming +brought to the old house. So he declared, now, that it would be a "nice +day for a run" and they could take the Cornwall road, because there was +a fellow in Cornwall he ought to see.</p> + +<p>Before the holiday fun could begin Beryl had her "duties" to perform. +These were tasks which she had set for herself so that she might not +feel for one moment that she was living on Robin's charity and were most +of them quite unnecessary and little things that Robin would really like +to do herself. However Beryl was too proudly intent upon saving her +pride to realize this and Robin, instinctively understanding, let her +have her way.</p> + +<p>Finally started, the girls snuggled close together in the car, holding +hands under the big robe. And, as they sped over the smooth road, each +let her thoughts take wings. Beryl's, with the honest self-centredness +that was characteristic of her, fluttered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> about herself. How she looked +in this peachy car—how she'd love to steer it and just step on the gas +and fly; some day, when she was famous, she'd have a car like this only +much bigger and painted yellow and she'd take Mom and Pop out and go +through the Mill neighborhood so that that gossipy Mrs. Whaley who had +called her "stuck-up" could see her. What she'd do in Robin's shoes, +anyway! Why, Robin didn't know what money meant, probably because Robin +had never wanted any one big thing, like she did.</p> + +<p>Robin, beside her, sat in cosy contentment—mainly because of her +precious letter. She drew a mental picture of her Jimmie, sailing away. +Then her thoughts came back to the gray hills and she wished her father +might see them at that moment, so as to paint them. He would love +Wassumsic, she knew—but, oh, he would hate the Mills. He would think, +as she did, that it was too bad they had built the Mill cottages between +the dingy buildings and the freight yards when they might have built +them where each window could have overlooked the climbing fields and +woods, where the children could have played in sweet grass the livelong +day and built beautiful snow forts when it was winter.</p> + +<p>Beryl suddenly broke the silence by a gleeful "Isn't this fun?" as +Williams coasted down a long grade with a breath-catching acceleration +of speed.</p> + +<p>The wind had whipped a fine color into the girls'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> cheeks, the changing +scenes about them were of untiring interest; they exclaimed delightedly +over each curve and hill in the road, each tiny hamlet through which +they passed. All too soon, they reached Cornwall and started on the +homeward way.</p> + +<p>At the top of a steep hill Williams slowed down to slip the gear into +second. In the valley below them was a collection of unpainted houses, +leaning towards one another as though for protection against the growing +things about them.</p> + +<p>"The Forgotten Village!" cried Robin. "Don't you feel just as though we +might tumble over into it?"</p> + +<p>"A good place to drive right <i>through</i>," Williams answered with a +scornful laugh.</p> + +<p>Alas, poor Williams—he brought the car skilfully and safely down the +difficult hill only to have it stop, with a reproachful snort, in the +very heart of the little village.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked the girls in one breath as Williams, with an +explosive exclamation, jumped from his seat.</p> + +<p>There was a moment of investigation, before the man replied.</p> + +<p>"No gas!".</p> + +<p>"Is <i>that</i> all?"</p> + +<p>"All! I'll say that's enough—here. Don't look as though anyone'd know +what gas is in these parts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> You sit in the car while I ask someone, Miss +Forsyth."</p> + +<p>"You wanted something to happen, Beryl," laughed Robin, as Williams +walked away.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! <i>This</i> isn't much of an adventure. And I'm awfully hungry."</p> + +<p>Poor Williams returned with the word that he'd have to walk on to the +next town—unless he was lucky enough to meet someone who'd help him +out. He advised the girls waiting in the store.</p> + +<p>"There isn't even a telephone in this dump," he grumbled resentfully, +quite forgetting that he had only his own carelessness to blame for the +whole thing.</p> + +<p>Neither Robin nor Beryl had the slightest intention of waiting in the +funny little store where the crackers and tea and coffee looked as old +as the old man who came out from behind the counter at their approach. +They waited until Williams had disappeared, then went forth to explore +the Forgotten Village. Unabashed, they stared at the weather-beaten +houses, at the old woman, a faded shawl tied around her head, washing +clothes at a pump, at the hideous square of dingy brick which served as +school house and church, its window frames stuffed here and there with +rags, a pathetic sign upon which was printed "library," hanging crazily +by one nail.</p> + +<p>Beyond the church stood an old mill, its roof tumbled in. Exploring it +the girls heard the sound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> of tumbling water and discovered a stream +breaking its way through thick undergrowth. A lane, marked by two wagon +ruts, edged the course of the stream.</p> + +<p>"Let's see where this goes," suggested Beryl.</p> + +<p>Robin limped willingly after her. It was an alluring lane, even in +November, for the ghostly gray branches of old trees met and interlocked +close overhead, fir trees, mingling with the silver white trunks of +slender birches, walled it either side, a whirring of invisible wings +added to its apartness and the little stream, tumbling its way, sounded +like laughter.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this the loveliest spot? Wherever do you suppose it comes out?" +For the lane twisted and turned as it climbed.</p> + +<p>"Robin, there's a house!"</p> + +<p>Ahead of them the girls could see through the trees the outlines of a +low square house. And as they drew nearer, walking stealthily, they +stared in amazement. For, unlike its neighbors in the village below, +this house was as white as fresh white paint could make it, at the +windows hung crisply white curtains, a brass knocker dignified its broad +door.</p> + +<p>Robin, always imaginative, clutched Beryl's arm with a breathless +giggle. "Beryl, it's like the house of bread and cake with the window +panes of sugar. Do you suppose someone will call out: 'Tip-tap, tip-tap, +who raps on my door'?"</p> + +<p>"Sh-h! I'm hungry enough to eat the roof. Let's ask for a drink of water +so's to see the inside."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin did not think it was just nice to deliberately intrude upon the +privacy of this shut-away house but Beryl, not waiting for her approval, +knocked boldly on the heavy old door.</p> + +<p>When the door swung open, however, and a beaked-nosed woman, absurdly +like the witch of the fairy story, confronted the girls, Beryl stood +tongue-tied and Robin had to come to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"Can we—if you please, we had an accident—I mean, we went for a +walk—oh, <i>may</i> we have a drink of water?" she floundered, fairly +blinking before the sharply piercing eyes of the woman in the door.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Brina?" came from within, whereupon the woman answered in +rapid German, her head turned backward over her shoulder, her hand still +on the doorknob.</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Brina. They are two children—lost, perhaps. Let them +come in."</p> + +<p>The room was disappointingly like any other old country-house living +room; scrupulously clean and shining, a wide fireplace aglow with a wood +fire that cast bright splotches of color over the low walls, the faded +rag rugs, the piece-work cushions on the old wooden settle.</p> + +<p>Close to its warmth sat a white-haired woman, one long thin hand +supporting her head in such a way as to keep her face in a shadow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span></p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width: 300px; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a> +<img src='images/illus-120.jpg' alt='"IT'S LIKE THE HOUSE OF BREAD AND CAKE"' title='' width = '300' height = '475'/><br /> +<span class='caption'>"IT'S LIKE THE HOUSE OF BREAD AND CAKE"</span> +</div> + +<p>Robin explained their presence in the lane, incoherently, for there was +something frightening about the silent, composed figure and the +intentness with which those shadowed eyes scrutinized her. While Robin +talked, Beryl swiftly surveyed the room and its occupants, not least of +which was a great St. Bernard dog, that, after one "gr'f'f" leaned +against his mistress' chair and regarded the intruders with watchful +eyes as though to reserve advances, friendly or hostile.</p> + +<p>Her account finished, Robin smiled bravely back into the grave face, +with that enchanting tenderness which had won Cornelius Allendyce and +enticed him to strange deeds.</p> + +<p>The smile worked its spell at least on the dog for he moved slowly over +to her, lifted a big paw and placed it gravely upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Cæsar declares you a friend," said the woman in a slow, low-pitched +voice. "He does not welcome many into our seclusion. Please sit down. +Brina, bring these young ladies a pitcher of milk and some cookies."</p> + +<p>Brina swung out of the room at her mistress' bidding. Robin, +uncomfortable but immensely curious and excited, sat on the edge of the +settle and chattered, while Beryl, well behind their silent hostess, +made mysterious signs with fingers and lips and eyes.</p> + +<p>"We think this is the loveliest spot—the old town and the mill and this +lane—and all. No one would ever dream from the road that this house was +here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> Has it a name? First I called it the House of Bread and Cake and +Sugar—like the fairy story, but it ought to be called the House of +Rushing Waters, hadn't it?"</p> + +<p>"That will do—very nicely. No, no one would know from the road that the +house stands here."</p> + +<p>But when Robin ventured: "Aren't you ever lonely?" there was a +perceptible tightening of the lips that made her sorry she had asked it.</p> + +<p>"Robin, there's something funny about that whole place," declared Beryl, +half-an-hour later as they went back down the lane. "I was doing some +thinking while you were talking."</p> + +<p>"She's a dear old lady, Beryl. I feel sorry for her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, dear enough. <i>I</i> thought she was stand-offish. But you don't +think for a moment she belongs 'round here, in the same town with that +old cheese down at the store?"</p> + +<p>Robin admitted that everything about her House of Rushing Waters was +very different from the Forgotten Village.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't that Brina just like a witch with her parrot nose and sharp +eyes?"</p> + +<p>But Beryl had no patience just now with Robin's beloved fairy lore. Two +little lines wrinkled her brow.</p> + +<p>"There's something queer about that place or my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> name isn't Beryl Lynch. +And I like to know what's what. Wouldn't it be fun to find out what it +is? Whether she's hiding there on account of something or someone's +keeping her a prisoner? Maybe—" Beryl lowered her voice, "maybe she's +crazy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl, she didn't act a bit crazy. Just very sad. She was nice. I +thought the room was lovely, too—and the lunch and that darling dog." +Robin had thoroughly enjoyed the simple hospitality and meant to defend +it.</p> + +<p>"Of course the room was nice," Beryl felt that she showed much patience +with Robin's obtuseness, "but didn't you see anything <i>different</i> in +that room? Books and magazines! Country people don't sit and read +magazines and knit on rose wool in the middle of the afternoon! Robin, +<i>that</i> woman's a lady! And you notice she didn't tell us who she was. +And a woman with her talking some foreign jibberish."</p> + +<p>"Beryl, you're wonderful to notice all these things. I'd never have +noticed half of them."</p> + +<p>Beryl tossed her head with pride. "Nothing much escapes <i>me</i>," she +boasted. "And I think it was a good thing we didn't tell her just who +<i>we</i> were. But let's not let a soul know about our finding this place +until we unravel the mystery."</p> + +<p>Robin hesitated. "She was so nice to us and it's really none of our +business why she's there or who she is—" she argued so staunchly that +Beryl put in hastily: "Well, let's just have it a secret because<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +secrets are such fun." And to that Robin agreed gladly, for secrets +<i>are</i> fun and are always a strengthening bond in true friendship.</p> + +<p>"I won't tell a soul!" she promised.</p> + +<p>They found Williams waiting for them at the store, worried at their +disappearance and annoyed at the delay. He had walked many miles in +payment for his carelessness.</p> + +<p>As they rushed homeward, both girls thought of the house they had left +and its lonely occupant.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't wonder a <i>bit</i> if she might be some royalty person hiding here +from anarchists," whispered Beryl, with a burst of imagination, amazing +for her, tinged by a novel she had recently read.</p> + +<p>"Would we dare go again to see her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we're going. Even if you don't, I want to find out who she is +and all about her."</p> + +<p>"<i>I'd</i> just like to see her again and that darling dog. If she doesn't +want to tell us who she is I don't want her to! It's more fun to pretend +that her house is made of bread and cake and sugar."</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" was Beryl's impatient answer.</p> + +<p>And that evening, as though in defense of her suspicions she thrust a +newspaper under Robin's nose with an expressive "There, read <i>that</i>!" at +the same time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph.</p> + +<p>The paragraph told of the mysterious disappearance of its Dowager Queen +from the little warring Balkan kingdom of Altruria.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span></p> + +<p>"She could be in this country as well as not. I read a book once where a +Duke hid for five years right in the heart of New York and then met his +heir face to face on Broadway. Wouldn't it be fun if that old woman +<i>was</i> this Dowager Queen?"</p> + +<p>"But, Beryl, she talked English. Wouldn't she talk—some other +language?"</p> + +<p>Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers don't. They talk ever so many +tongues. English as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You just +wait."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2><h3>POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The following Wednesday had been set for Mrs. Lynch's dinner of "pot +roast and cabbage salad."</p> + +<p>"You'll think we're awfully poor, Robin, when you see that mean old +cottage," Beryl complained as the girls were dressing for the dinner.</p> + +<p>Robin, hesitating between a Madonna blue and a yellow dress, turned +quickly at the tone in Beryl's voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl, what difference does your house make! I want to know your +mother and your father and—Dale."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's no use your dressing up—it'll just make everything else +there look absurdly shabby."</p> + +<p>Robin laid the garment she held down upon the bed. A puzzled look +darkened the glow in her eyes. There were a great many times when she +found it difficult to understand Beryl's changing moods. She herself was +too indifferent to clothes to know that it was the two pretty gowns she +had brought out from her wardrobe that had now sent Beryl into the +dumps.</p> + +<p>"I won't dress up, Beryl. I just thought your mother would like to have +me—out of respect to her party. I didn't think you wouldn't like it. +But if you think I'm going down there to stare around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> at the things in +the house and pick to pieces the dishes and the food—you're wrong, +Beryl. I think your mother must be a wonderful woman and I am just crazy +to meet her and I know I'm going to love your father and I never talked +to a boy in my whole life except in school when I had to! There!" Robin +stopped for very lack of breath.</p> + +<p>This unexpected show of spirit, so unlike Robin's usual gentleness, took +Beryl back. Fond as she was of her mother she had never thought of her +as exactly "wonderful" or of anyone wanting to know her, or her poor, +crippled father, or Dale. She laughed a little shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, wear what you want to, Robin. I suppose I'm jealous because I +haven't anything except that old gray thing that's just tottering with +age. What a joke to call Dale a boy! Why, he's never been a boy, because +he's worked so hard for everything."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad I'm going to meet him, anyway." Robin spoke with +excitement. It did not matter at all what she wore—without a moment's +hesitation she put away the blue and the yellow dress and brought forth +the mouse colored jersey she had worn when she arrived at Gray +Manor—she was going to meet Beryl's family. Robin, who had never had +any family except "Jimmie," imagined beautiful things of family life, +mostly colored by books she had read and pictures she had seen. Brothers +were always big strong fellows who sometimes teased their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> younger +sisters but were always ready with a helping hand; fathers—well, she +knew about fathers, having had Jimmie, but Beryl's father must be very +different because of his accident. It was "Mom" that she most wanted to +know. She hoped Beryl's mother would kiss her. At the thought her heart +gave a quick little beat.</p> + +<p>When Percival Tubbs, to whom Harkness, uncertain as to the propriety of +a Forsyth dining at one of the Mill cottages had appealed, had mildly +endeavored to point out to Robin that this dinner-party was not exactly +"fitting," Robin had simply not been able to understand and had answered +so honestly: "Why, just because I'm a Forsyth doesn't make me a bit +better than those people who work in the Mills, does it?" That Mr. Tubbs +had abandoned his point with a mental reservation not unlike Mrs. +Budge's beloved: "Things <i>are</i> going to sixes and sevens."</p> + +<p>And below stairs the loyal Harkness, putting off his own doubt, had met +Mrs. Budge's scorn of the whole "goings-on" with a grand defense of his +little mistress: "Some lydies in 'igh places distribute their bounty in +baskets but if Miss Gordon sees fit to carry 'ers in her pretty little +'eart, I don't say it's for us to be a thinking it isn't the 'appier +way," and Budge knew he was very much in earnest because he forgot his +h's, a little trick of speech he had long ago overcome.</p> + +<p>For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> Beryl brought forth +her green beads. Robin exclaimed over them, taking them out of Beryl's +hand to hold them to the light.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are lovely, Beryl, see the deep glow! They're like the sea. +You ought to be proud of them."</p> + +<p>"They're just some beads an old priest gave mother when she was a girl," +Beryl explained, making her voice indifferent. She loved Robin's +enthusiasm but half-suspected it might be "put on" in order to make up +to her for the things she did not have. "They do look nice on this +dress, though, don't they?" She laid them against her neck and stared +with satisfaction at the reflection in the long mirror.</p> + +<p>The Lynch cottage, in honor of the occasion, sparkled with orderliness. +Mrs. Moira looked very gay in a pretty foulard she had made over from +two of Miss Lewis' old dresses; her fluttering hands alone betrayed her +nervousness and her fears that though the most tempting smells came from +the stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little Miss Forsyth +and for Dale's new friend, too.</p> + +<p>However, when Robin came into the room with Beryl she looked so +appealingly small that Mrs. Lynch promptly forgot she was a Forsyth and +that the dinner might not be good enough and put her arms around her and +kissed her. And Robin with an impulsive movement snuggled closer to the +warm embrace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, it's a mite of a thing you are," cried Mrs. Moira with the singing +note in her voice that always came when she was deeply moved. "And +hungry, I hope. Well, Dale will be here in a moment and then we'll dish +up."</p> + +<p>Then everything was just like Robin had hoped it would be. Beryl's +mother called them "children" and let them help her with the finishing +touches of the dinner. Beryl's father smiled at her and patted her hand. +She did not see the little room with Beryl's eyes, its limited space +into which so much had to be crowded, the cracked shade on the lamp, the +dingy carpeting that held together through some kind miracle, she only +thought it cosy and homey; she liked the queer old clock and the blue +bowl filled with artificial jonquils and the crocheted "tidies" with +dogs designed in intricate stitches.</p> + +<p>"Here's Dale!" whispered Beryl. "I'm crazy to meet his friend. I'm going +to sit next to him at the table, see if I don't."</p> + +<p>In the excitement of Dale's arrival and of introducing the strange "Mr. +Kraus" no one noticed Robin for a moment, or that she stared at Dale +with round, puzzled eyes. Had she ever seen him before? When Beryl +turned suddenly and said: "Dale, this is Gordon Forsyth," she hoped he +would say: "Why, I know her." However, he merely mumbled "How do you +do," stiffly, and turned away, to Beryl's indignation and Robin's vague +disappointment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> + +<p>The pot roast and the cabbage salad were as delicious as Mrs. Moira's +loving pains could make them; Dale's friend talked mostly to big Danny +and Mrs. Moira listened and Dale occasionally put in a word. Over her +plate Robin watched first one and then another, her eyes invariably +coming back to Dale's face. Beryl, annoyed that no one noticed her and +Robin and treated them "as though they were just children," ate +ravenously, in dignified silence.</p> + +<p>The talk centered about the Mills. Adam Kraus freely ridiculed the +Forsyth methods. "They're miles behind the times," he declared and +compared them glibly with other similar industries. "Old Norris belongs +to the has-beens. Look at the machinery he uses—all right in its day, +of course. But if a fellow went to him with some new kind of a loom, +would he look at it? Not he! The old's good enough."</p> + +<p>"Hear that, Pop?" put in Dale, exchanging a meaning glance with his +father.</p> + +<p>"And look at the way they house the mill hands here, putting a fellow +like Dale with his cleanness and his brains and his possibilities, into +a dump like this. They don't recognize the human element in industries +of this sort or what it's worth to them. Why, there's no argument any +more as to the increased efficiency from giving better living +conditions—but I'll bet Norris hasn't heard of it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> + +<p>"We haven't been here long enough to know—" Mrs. Lynch began gently but +Dale interrupted her, his voice rough.</p> + +<p>"It isn't Norris alone, Adam. You've got to go further up—it's the +House of Forsyth. They're feudal lords—or like to think they are. Do +you suppose it mattered much up there, when the little Castle girl had +her arm crushed in that old wheel last month and died because her body +wasn't nourished enough to stand under the amputation? A lot they +cared—just one bit of machinery gone for a day—another—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Dale</i>—" cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed embarrassment, and suddenly +everyone looked at Robin.</p> + +<p>Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and Dale with deep interest. It +was not until Mrs. Lynch exclaimed and all eyes turned in her direction +that she connected what they were saying with her own self. Under Dale's +sudden scrutiny she flushed.</p> + +<p>"I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth." But this was so far from +an apology that Mrs. Lynch looked more distressed than before and Beryl +glared at her brother.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> don't mind me," begged Robin. <i>She</i> was glad Dale did not +say he was sorry for what he had been saying; she wanted to know more. +She wanted to tell them that <i>she</i> called the Mills a Giant and that she +hated them and that Cornelius Allendyce had told her she should look for +a Jack who could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of the +stranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell me all about +the—the Castle girl?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't much to tell about her that's different from ninety-nine +other cases. She was supporting a younger brother and sister. The +brother's only twelve years old but he had to go to work—said he was +sixteen. The kid sister helps the grandmother as much as she can."</p> + +<p>"Do they live in one of these houses?"</p> + +<p>"In the old village. They're cheaper, you see. The boy can't earn as +much as Sarah Castle did and they had to move up the river."</p> + +<p>"Could I go to see them—sometime?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch answered for Dale. "Of course you can, dearie. And I'll go +with you. It's from my own county they say the grandmother comes and +likely she'll know some of the old people."</p> + +<p>"Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep pools reflecting +starlight. "I'd like to know <i>everyone</i> here in the village and what +they do. Perhaps the—the other Forsyths wanted to really know the Mill +people, too, only they—they've been so unhappy. But I'm different, you +see—I'm a girl and so sort of—little."</p> + +<p>"Bless the warm little heart of her—defending her own," thought Mrs. +Lynch, and Dale, his face softening until it was boyish, smiled and +said: "You <i>are</i> a little thing, aren't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + +<p>At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin with such suddenness +that a breathless "oh" escaped her parted lips. A dark night and lonely +streets, a chill wind cutting her face, an iron fence enclosing a +deserted triangle of dead grass and filthy papers—a kind voice telling +her not to cry—of course, her Prince! She peeped almost fearfully at +Dale who was joking with Beryl. <i>He</i> did not know—he had forgotten, of +course. He had been a big boy, then, and he had not gone on playing the +little game the way she had. How wonderful, how <i>very</i> wonderful, to +find him. And Beryl's brother! She did not mind at all what he had said +about the Forsyth's. If he said it, it must be true. She would find out.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch, beaming over her simple dinner, little knew that Destiny sat +at her board, shaping, moulding, gathering and weaving the threads of +life, golden and drab.</p> + +<p>To Beryl's disgust, after the meal Dale brought forth his "toy." But +Adam Kraus, instead of showing the boredom which Beryl expected, studied +it with absorbed keenness, quickly grasping what Dale wanted to do.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever shown this to Morris?" he asked Dale.</p> + +<p>Dale shook his head. "No use to do it now—until I've worked the thing +out to perfection. And I can't do that—without money."</p> + +<p>Robin, wiping plates for Mrs. Lynch, caught Dale's words and Adam Kraus' +answer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span></p> + +<p>"I wonder if Norris would see what an invention like that—if you can +make it do what you say you can—would be worth to these mills. It would +lift them out of the boneyard of antiquity and put them fifty years +ahead of their competitors. Why, I'll bet Granger's would give you a +cool twenty thousand for that just as it stands. It would serve Norris +right, too."</p> + +<p>Dale's face flushed with excitement. "Do you really think all that, +Adam? Pop and I've gotten so down in the dumps trying to work the thing +out that we've lost our sense of values."</p> + +<p>"Inventors never have any," laughed Kraus, with a change in his voice. +And he commenced hastily to talk of other things, to Dale's +disappointment.</p> + +<p>Robin pulled timidly at Dale's arm.</p> + +<p>"Who's Grangers?"</p> + +<p>"Grangers? Don't you know the big mills up at South Falls?"</p> + +<p>"Would they—if they took—that—you'd go there—" She tried desperately +to voice the fear that had shaped in her heart; Grangers taking this +funny wooden thing that Mr. Kraus said was worth so much, and Dale going +away from Wassumsic, and Dale's mother—and Beryl.</p> + +<p>"You just bet I would," and Dale laughed. "But don't worry, we won't be +going for a while."</p> + +<p>Robin had so much to think about that night that she could not go to +sleep. She did not want to go to sleep. Up to this day she had been +just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin," at Gray Manor to let Jimmie +have his chance; happy, because Jimmie was having his chance and Beryl +was with her and Beryl was unfailingly interesting.</p> + +<p>Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just "anything." A Forsyth +ought to care about those awful Mills, that were in some sort of a +"boneyard," and about the people who worked in them—especially poor +Sarah Castle's brother and sister. And there were probably many other +boys and girls. She'd ask Mrs. Lynch—or Dale.</p> + +<p>Beryl stirred and Robin ventured to speak.</p> + +<p>"Beryl, are you awake? If Mr. Norris bought that invention of your +brother's, would it make things easier for—the Mill people?"</p> + +<p>Beryl jerked herself up on her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Red-Robin Forsyth, are you crazy? Fussing over that absurd toy of +Dale's at this hour? Why should <i>you</i> care?" Beryl sank back into her +pillows and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most glorious eyes?"</p> + +<p>Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, I hated his eyes. They +were not true eyes. But—I like Dale—lots." And just here, for the +second time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for Dale must +never know that she remembered him; all that belonged to her childhood. +Beryl might laugh, too, as she often did at her "fancies," and call her +"funny."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span></p> + +<p>Thinking of Dale brought her thoughts back to the Mills so that while +Beryl snuggled her sleepy head back into her pillow, she stared at the +thin shaft of light that shone under the door and wished she was big +instead of "a little bit of a thing" and very wise so that she would +know what to do to show these people in Wassumsic that she—a Forsyth, +<i>did</i> care.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2><h3>ROBIN WRITES A LETTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce had returned to New York from Gray Manor with his +mind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. His +associates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him and +they often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling +himself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far from +fields of law.</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce <i>did</i> feel pleased with himself. How many men would +have dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it had +all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest," living in her past, +her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little +Robin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned out +so surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking, +in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not want +to—he liked to think it all over.</p> + +<p>Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human race +of which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were all +alike—pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves like +kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> knew absolutely nothing of +the fearless, honest, open-air girls, with hearts and souls as straight +and clean as their healthy young bodies or that there were legions like +little Robin and Beryl who, because they had been cheated of much that +went to the making of these others, stood as a type apart. He only +thought—as he went over the whole thing—that Robin's Jimmie was to +blame for her being "different," leaving her alone so much and letting +her take responsibilities way over her head; now she would enjoy the +girlish pleasures that were her due. His sister Effie had supplied her +with everything in the way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want; +Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs would go light with +the school work—he had certainly made a point of <i>that</i>, and, when he +could run up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little companion +Robin had adopted. If she were not all that she ought to be (Miss Effie +had somewhat disturbed him on this point) why, a change could be made; +someone a little older and more cultured (Miss Effie's word) could be +sent up from New York.</p> + +<p>Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, enjoyed at intervals in his +work, Robin's letter, written a few days after her dinner at Mrs. +Lynch's, fell like a bomb.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class='letter'>"<span class="smcap">Dear Guardian</span>," she had begun,</p> + +<p class='letter'>I am ever so sorry I haven't written for so long, but I haven't +had a minute, really, truly. There are so many things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> to look at +and to do. I am beginning to really love Gray Manor—it is so +always and always beautiful. Mr. Harkness is a dear and is very +good and tells me what to do many times when I am stupid and do not +see for myself—like the finger-bowls. Jimmie and I never used +finger-bowls. I don't mind the school work, though I simply can't +keep up with Beryl. When you come up, I will tell you how wonderful +Beryl is and all about her family. Her mother had a lovely dinner +one night and Beryl took me. Beryl is going to be a great +violinist, you know, and she is saving money to buy a real violin +that will be all her own and take lessons. She will not let me do a +thing to help her, which is splendid—I mean, for her to be so +proud and brave, though I wish she would let me do just a little.</p> + +<p class='letter'>We have some very good times together, mostly taking lovely rides +back in the hills to places Harkness tells us about and once we +took our lunch and Mr. Tubbs and Harkness went, though Mr. Tubbs +had dreadful neuralgia afterwards. Beryl and I read every evening. +I love the books. I think I've been hungry for them all my life and +didn't know it. We're playing a game to see which of us can read +the most. We can play forever because one day we counted the books +in the library and there are one thousand and seventy four and +Harkness says there are more in Christopher the Third's room. +Harkness has been telling us all about him and he showed us his +picture—you know, the one in the Dragon's sitting-room (I +apologize, in Aunt Mathilde's room) and he looked like a young +prince, didn't he? How will Aunt Mathilde ever reconcile herself to +a little insignificant, lame thing like me when she sees me?</p> + +<p class='letter'>Oh, I wish I could really <i>truly</i> meet my good Fairy somewhere—the +one who forgot to attend my birth—and she'd give me one wish, I'd +just ask for one. And that wish would be to G-R-O-W. I never cared +before but now I want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> to be BIG. Oh, and wise! Mr. Tubbs will tell +you how stupid I am. A Forsyth ought to be big and wise. You see, +before this I have never thought of myself as a real true +Forsyth—I've always just been Jimmie's daughter. But lately I've +been thinking a lot about what a Forsyth ought to be and there are +about a million questions I'd like to ask:</p> + +<p class='letter'>1. Ought Mr. Norris to let the Mills sink into a boneyard of +antiquity?</p> + +<p class='letter'>2. What is the very most money I could spend all in one lump and +can I spend it without telling anyone about it beforehand?</p> + +<p class='letter'>3. There's an empty cottage just below where the Manor road crosses +the river and Williams says the Forsyths own it. Can Beryl and I +use it for a club?</p> + +<p class='letter'>Thinking of the questions makes me forget the other nine hundred +ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven, (I did that on +paper) but please come to Gray Manor soon so that I can ask the +rest.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>Your loving Red-Robin.</p> + +<p class='letter'>P.S. The violin came and thanks ever and ever so much though Beryl +says she will not call it hers for one little minute. But she most +cried over it she loves it so and she makes the most beautiful +music with it. I am dreadfully jealous because she won't even +listen to a word I say now. She says she's living in the clouds. +It's wonderful to have a big dream, isn't it? But I am starting one +which I'll tell you when it's big enough."</p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Allendyce read the letter three times, stopping at intervals to +polish his glasses as though they must be at fault. "What does this +mean?" he exclaimed over and over. "What's up?"</p> + +<p>Why on earth was Robin worrying her little head over the Mills and +talking so absurdly about a boneyard?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> And why did she want more money? +And who were these people with whom she had dined? And what did she and +Beryl want with a club when they had all Gray Manor to play in?</p> + +<p>Not able to answer any of these disturbing questions the poor man sought +out Miss Effie—who, having been a girl, once, herself, ought to know +something of the vagaries of a girl's mind.</p> + +<p>Miss Effie felt very proud that her brother cared anything for her +opinion. She nodded wisely and smiled reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Girl notions—that's all. Don't worry over the foibles of growing +girls. It's one thing today and something else tomorrow."</p> + +<p>The guardian was not so easily reassured. "But Robin isn't like other +girls—" he began, with a disturbing recollection of Robin's +highhandedness in engaging a companion.</p> + +<p>"Tush! Bosh!" Miss Effie would not let him go on. "Girls are all alike +under their skins. This poor kiddie's been starved for nice things and +her sudden good fortune's gone to her head. She doesn't know the value +of money, either; what'd seem big to her would be carfare for you. Give +her more to do. And she ought to know some young folks."</p> + +<p>Now Cornelius Allendyce beamed fondly upon his sister. She <i>had</i> +comforted him. Of course, Robin's subconscious self was reaching out to +touch the lives of others. In spite of their uncertain living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> she and +Jimmie were of a sociable sort—he ought not to have expected that she +would be content in Gray Manor with no outside interests.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't that tutor get up a party?"</p> + +<p>"That's a good idea, sister. I'll write to Tubbs. Probably the county's +expecting something of the sort, anyway. I suppose it ought to be rather +simple—she's so young and Madame Forsyth being away. I'll raise the +child's allowance, too—let her spend it if she can, bless her heart."</p> + +<p>His mind once more quite at ease, Cornelius Allendyce put Robin's letter +into his pocket. He would write to her the next day and to Percival +Tubbs. He ought to have consulted his sister sooner. Well, a guardian +learned something new every day, he told himself, with a smile.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>No one had suspected the torment of thought that racked poor Robin's +head for the few days following the dinner-party. She had arisen that +next morning with the firm resolve to "be" a Forsyth, but she did not +know just what she ought to do first and there was no one to tell her. +Beryl was no more sympathetic than she had been the night before and had +answered her persistent questioning absentmindedly. However, +unknowingly, she did give two helpful hints, upon which Robin seized +gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> is a clubhouse like Miss +Lewis' place in New York. Mother took care of that, you know. Miss Lewis +is a wonder. She always declared children need fun just the way they +need milk and <i>she</i> fixed it so that they got both."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there are ever so many boys and girls in Wassumsic only +they're mostly working in the Mills. I'd have to work there myself only +I've made Dale believe that I can do something—else. If I ever started +in the old Mills I'd be like the others. That's the way—you begin and +then you never know how to do anything different."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you're not there. I'm like—Dale. I know you'll be a wonderful +violinist some day!" Robin never failed to say what Beryl wanted.</p> + +<p>Beryl tossed her head. "I could have just settled down into a drudge, +working all day and too tired at night to care what I did and saving +just enough out of my pay envelope to buy me a hair-net but I wouldn't +begin! I wouldn't! They can all call me proud and lazy but I'll show +them—old Henri Jacques and Martini himself said I would! But I've had +to fight to make people believe me—and I s'pose I'll have to go on +fighting." To the egotism of sixteen years these words sounded very +grand; it stirred Beryl to think she had fought for every advantage that +was hers, to read the admiration in Robin's eyes. She had no thought of +disloyalty in claiming the credit that really belonged to the little +mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> who had dreamed the dream first for her girl and then, through +years of work and self-denial, had lived for that dream to come true.</p> + +<p>After the arrival of the violin Beryl promptly lost herself in a trance +of rapture that left Robin to her own pursuits. Only once the quite +human thought flashed to her mind that Beryl might be a little bit +interested in what <i>she</i> wanted to do but she put it away as unworthy +for, she told herself, Beryl, destined one day to stand on a pedestal, +could not be expected to bother with such every-day things as planning +"fun" for the Mill children.</p> + +<p>So Robin left Beryl with her beloved instrument and went alone to talk +to Mrs. Lynch who was so startled at her unexpected coming that she +kissed her and called her "little Robin" before she realized what she +was doing. That, and the fact that she found Mrs. Lynch working in the +shed where big Danny could not hear them, made it much easier for Robin +to talk and talk she did, so rapidly and so imploringly that Mrs. Moira +had to interject more than once: "Now wait a bit, dearie. What was that +again?"</p> + +<p>Robin wanted to know about how many Mill children there were.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bless the heart of you, it's no one but the doctor himself can tell +you that! They slip in and out of the world as quiet like. But Mrs. +Whaley says the school's so full that her Tommy can only go +afternoons."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy brick building as the +schoolhouse. It had a play-yard enclosed on three sides with a high +board fence, disfigured by much scrawling. It had seemed an ugly spot. +She thought of that now.</p> + +<p>"And what do the girls—the girls like me—do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they mostly work. After work? Well, they help at home and do a bit +of sewing maybe and some have beaux and they walk down to the drug store +and hang around there visiting, though Beryl doesn't. 'Tisn't much of a +life a girl in a place like this has," and Mrs. Moira's sigh was happily +reminiscent of her own girlhood in open clean spaces, "it's old they +grow before their time."</p> + +<p>"They don't have much fun, do they?" Robin asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch looked at her curiously. "Fun? They work so hard that they +haven't the gumption to start the fun. But it's so big the world is, +Miss Robin, that it can't all be rosy. Sure, there has to be some dark +corners."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lynch, if—if—someone started the fun for the girls—would they +like it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what's on your mind, dearie? The likes of you worryin' your little +head over things you don't know anything about!"</p> + +<p>Robin could have cried with vexation. She <i>must</i> make Mrs. Lynch +understand her—Mrs. Lynch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> was her one hope. She gave a little stamp of +her foot as she burst out: "I'm little but that's no reason I can't +think of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that the Forsyth's didn't care +and they ought to care—and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone in +the Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they do. And I want +them to have—fun. Beryl said your Miss Lewis said everyone ought to +have fun. I—I don't know just how to begin—but I'm going to."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Moira patted her hand. To herself she was saying: "The blessed +heart of her, she doesn't even know what she's talking about, poor +lamb," but aloud: "That you shall and if I can help you, I will."</p> + +<p>Robin's eyes glowed. "Oh, <i>thank</i> you. You don't know how hard it is for +me to think just what to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head and +then I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about them—I just +have to feel them. I'd like to begin with the little children. If my +guardian says we may, can't we open that old cottage down by the bridge +and make it into a—a sort of play-house? There could be a play-yard and +next spring we could make gardens and we could fix one room up with +pretty pictures and have books and games—and a fireplace and +window-seats. Oh, <i>does</i> that sound silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasm +to an abrupt, imploring finish.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dearie me—no." There were no reserves in Mrs. Moira's approval. With +an imagination as quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage—it was a +charming old house, snuggled under elms, half-covered in summer with +rambling vines and pink blossoms—alive with romping, happy-voiced +children, some poring over pretty picture-books, others listening to a +story, some working in a garden—some just tumbling about on the soft +grass in a pure exuberance of youthful joy.</p> + +<p>"We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always think of names before +anything else. And maybe, some day, the older girls—girls like me—will +use it, too. I'd like to begin by knowing little Susy Castle."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch promised to take her the next day to the old village where +Susy lived.</p> + +<p>"I'll come down right after our school work is over. Beryl won't mind +because she'll want to practice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tell +Dale, will you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already she had been looking forward to +telling Dale about Robin and her plans. But Robin stood firm.</p> + +<p>"You see I may spoil everything and he'd think I was just stupid. I +don't want him to know—yet."</p> + +<p>Robin walked back to the Manor with a light heart. Her world that had +always seemed so small, bounded on its every side by Jimmie, now +suddenly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> assumed limitless proportions and beautiful possibilities. +There was so much to be done and so much to think about. Tomorrow she +would see Susy Castle; maybe other boys and girls.</p> + +<p>Lights were twinkling from some of the windows of the Manor. Robin +paused for a moment at the bottom of the long ascent to "love" the Manor +in its purple cloak of gathering dusk. That first Forsyth who had broken +ground for this gray pile had chosen well; the hill upon which the house +had been built stood apart from the other hills, loftily commanding the +village and valley.</p> + +<p>"It looks just like a grand old lady holding off her skirts so's not to +touch anything," Robin thought, now, whimsically.</p> + +<p>As though to crown her day's progress toward "being" a Forsyth, Robin +found a letter from her guardian awaiting her. Cornelius Allendyce had +written it keeping in mind his sister's advice not to notice a girl's +"foibles"—"it's one thing today and another tomorrow."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class='letter'>"... I am delighted that you are happy and finding so much to +occupy your time. Do not worry about your lessons. Not all +knowledge is confined within the covers of school books. (He had +read that somewhere and thought it came in very pat, now.) How +about some sort of a party. You ought to know the people of the +country before the winter sets in. Think it over and decide what +you want. I will double your allowance if you haven't enough. If +you need a club to make<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> you happy, help yourself. Don't worry +about the Mills—let Norris do that. I'll run up to Wassumsic very +soon and answer as many questions as you may wish to ask. Until +then, I am</p> + +<p class='sig'>Devotedly yours,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Cornelius Allendyce</span>."</p></div> + +<p>"Beryl—read this! I may use that old cottage. I believe my guardian'll +do everything I ask when he understands. He's a <i>dear</i>!"</p> + +<p>Beryl came slowly down from her "clouds."</p> + +<p>"Robin—listen to <i>this</i> vibrato!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2><h3>SUSY CASTLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Forsyth Mills had built Wassumsic—in truth, Wassumsic <i>was</i> the +Forsyth's Mills. It had had its beginning in that first small mill where +the first Forsyth worked in his shirt-sleeves; a cluster of houses had +sprung up close to the river, a store, more houses, more stores, a +tavern, a church, a school. And as the Mills grew, so grew the village. +For themselves the Forsyth family had built the stone house on the hill, +that looked, indeed, like a grand old woman holding off her skirts from +contamination. And that lofty apartness had always been the attitude of +the Forsyth family to the workaday life in the village.</p> + +<p>The growth of the village had been toward the railroad so that the first +Mill houses had been left by themselves "up the river" and were commonly +known as the "old village." They were so old that they were not worth +keeping in repair and so close to the river that they were damp the year +round and for these very good reasons were offered to the mill workers +at a low rental. Many of the mill workers—such as Dale—looked upon +them as a disgrace to the Mills and felt a hot anger in their hearts +when they thought of them—but unfortunates like the Castles were glad +to move into the worst of them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span></p> + +<p>The short walk from the Mills to the old village skirted the river and +was overhung with a double row of willows which, on this wintry day, +cast long purple shadows. Robin, walking along it with Mrs. Lynch, +thought it lovely and solemn—like a cathedral aisle. But when they +stopped before a low cottage, one window nailed across with boards where +the panes were missing, the front door propped in place by a rotting +rail tie, tin cans and frozen refuse littering the strip of yard, and +Mrs. Lynch said "This is the house," she wanted to cry out in protest at +the ugliness. They had to pick their way around to a back door upon +which Mrs. Lynch knocked. Several moments elapsed before the door swung +back a little way, a round black eye peered at them cautiously, and a +shrill voice piped "whachy'want?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose that's Susy," thought Robin, her heart skipping a beat with a +terror of shyness.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch's pleasant: "We want to see Granny," admitted them. Robin, +blinded for the first moment of coming into the darkness of the room +from the bright sunshine outside, stumbled over a chair and in her +confusion mumbled some incoherent answer to the shrill cackle of welcome +that came from the shrunken bit of humanity bending over a small stove.</p> + +<p>"Poor Granny doesn't understand who you are," explained Mrs. Lynch, in +an apologetic whisper, touching her head significantly. "Come here, +Susy," and she motioned the staring child to her. Susy approached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> with +the hang-back step of a child or a dog not always certain of what he may +get but Mrs. Lynch magically produced a round cookie, fat with currants, +and Susy sprang at her with a quick leap.</p> + +<p>The room was heavy with stale air and bare of any comforts. A tattered +First Reader lay on the greasy floor, unwashed dishes cluttered the bare +pine table, on every available shelf and in every corner were piled old +cans and bottles and half-filled paper bags. On a what-not in the corner +a faded bunch of pink paper roses drooped over a cracked vase. The +wallpaper, its ugly pattern mercifully faded, was fantastically streaked +from the dampness, in one corner the ceiling plaster had fallen and +newspapers had been tacked over the laths to keep out the cold.</p> + +<p>A sickening revulsion, a longing to escape into the sweet crisp air +swept Robin. She shrank away into a corner for fear the dreadful old +Granny might touch her. But she <i>must</i> say something! She had come here +for a purpose—to know Susy.</p> + +<p>At that moment Susy's voice pealed out in a merry, piping laugh—because +she had put her small finger into her cookie and pulled out a fat round +currant! And something in the laugh touched the spark to the mothering +instinct strong in Robin's young heart—the mothering instinct that had +caused her bitter anguish over Cynthia's loss, that had taught her how +to care for her Jimmie, and had given her strength to run away from her +Jimmie that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> might have his "chance." She forgot the dirty +surroundings, the old Granny in her rags and her crown of wispy gray +hair, she saw only the child's face, lightened with joy, and laughed +with Susy as Susy held out the currant on the end of an uplifted—and +very dirty—finger.</p> + +<p>The ice broken, Susy made friends quickly. She leaned her thin little +self against Robin's knee and stared with rapture into Robin's face. +Like Granny she could not seem to realize that Robin was a Forsyth; to +her she was "a big girl" and big girls did not come to the house now +that Sarah had died. She timidly touched Robin's soft coat sleeve with a +rough, sticky hand and poked at the bright buttons of Robin's blouse, +her eyes round with wonder.</p> + +<p>Afterward, after Robin and Mrs. Lynch had, with some difficulty, broken +away from Susy's clinging and Granny's childish lamentations, and were +walking back through the "cathedral aisle" Robin gave herself a little +shake as though to rouse herself from some nightmare.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Lynch, it's dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"What, dearie?" Mrs. Lynch had been thinking that Granny Castle couldn't +be one of the Castle's of her old-country county.</p> + +<p>"That place. Are they all like that? How can they live?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch hesitated a moment and there was a perceptible tightening of +her tender lips.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, dearie, people <i>have</i> to live—life goes on in spite of things. +Maybe poor old Granny wishes real often it'd been her that had been +taken instead of that poor Sarah. Things weren't so bad for them when +Sarah lived—they say. She was an up-and-doing girl and kept things nice +though she had to work hard to do it, poor little thing. It's in the +hospital that old woman should be with some one to wait on her and keep +her warm. No one but little Susy—"</p> + +<p>"I forgot all I'd planned to say! Susy looked so cold, Mrs. Lynch. I +hated my nice warm clothes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Susy was warm enough. She's a bright child, she is. When she's a +bit older things will ease up."</p> + +<p>Robin remembered what Beryl had said of the girls in Wassumsic having +nothing else to do but go into the Mills. Susy would grow older and take +Sarah's place. But what if she didn't want to? What happened to the "big +girls" who didn't want to go into the Mills? Robin could hear Beryl's +contemptuous: "Why they haven't a chance in the world." Well, anyway, +someone could make the Mills so nice that the girls would <i>want</i> to work +in them. "I wish I were big!" cried Robin with such passion that Mrs. +Lynch, not knowing her train of thought, had a sudden qualm at taking a +sensitive little thing like Miss Robin to poor old Granny Castle's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now, dearie, don't you worry. Things come out somehow—in the next +world maybe for the Granny Castles, but they do. Now that idea of yours +of fixing that cottage—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot to tell you! My guardian says I may. At least he said that +if I wanted a club, to help myself, and that must mean he consents. He's +a dear. Have you time to go there with me now and just peek into it? I'm +sure we can get in."</p> + +<p>"I'll take the time," cried Mrs. Moira with an interest as eager as +Robin's. "I'll just drop in and tell my Danny when we go past—it's so +lonesome he gets when I'm slow coming."</p> + +<p>Robin's House of Laughter looked a little deserted standing alone in the +shadow of the hillside, gaunt branches creaking over its low roof, the +ends of the trailing vines whipping restlessly against the gray +clapboards. But Robin and Mrs. Lynch saw it as they wanted it to +be—neatly painted, its windows curtained, its yard trimmed, its +doorstep dignified by a broad inviting step, and flanked by a trellis +for the rambling rose vine. The door opened for them in the most +promising way and they tiptoed into a big bare room with two windows at +one end looking out over the hills and river.</p> + +<p>"Isn't this nice?" cried Robin in delighted staccato. "It's just made +for what we want. Look—a fireplace!" To be sure, it was nothing more +than a gap in the wall. "And these darling windows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> We can put a seat +way across, all comfy." She promptly saw, in her mind, Susy curled upon +it with a beautiful picture book and a handful of cookies. "Oh, let's +see the rest. Look, a cunning kitchen. The children can play cooking. +And this room—what can we use this room for?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch was thinking rapidly. Because of her experience with Miss +Lewis she saw possibilities way beyond Robin's eager planning—class +rooms where the older girls could learn other trades—a domestic science +class in the kitchen for the mothers—a sewing room, a library full of +instructive and entertaining books, and the big living room where the +children could gather after school hours, and the men and women and big +boys and girls in the evening. And a playground outside—and gardens.</p> + +<p>"Can't we fix it up right away?" Robin's eager questioning brought her +sharply out of her dream to a practical realization that all the House +of Laughter had as endowment was an unselfish girl's enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Harkness will help if I ask him and maybe Williams, too. And Mrs. +Williams."</p> + +<p>"It's quite tidy for standing empty so long," mused Mrs. Lynch, sweeping +the bare rooms with an appraising eye. "That stove's good as new under +the rust."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <i>will</i> help, won't you? I can't do anything without you."</p> + +<p>"That I will, Miss Robin." Mrs. Moira promised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> with no thought of the +added tax it must be on her energy. "It's a beginning everything has to +have and you get your Harkness man and some brooms and some soap and +we'll have your little House of Laughter ready to begin in no time."</p> + +<p>A half hour later Robin burst upon Beryl absorbed in her practicing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> listen," she cried and without waiting for encouragement +poured out her precious plans. Beryl obediently listened but with an odd +surprise tugging at her attentiveness—this Robin seemed different, full +of a fire that was quite new, and all over fixing up that old place for +the Mill kids. To Beryl, wrapped in her own precious ambition, that +seemed a ridiculous waste of energy. However she concealed her scorn, +affected a lively interest and put in a few helpful suggestions.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tubbs has been hunting for you," she suddenly informed Robin. "I +heard him talking to Harkness about a party. Your guardian's written to +him, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>dear</i>!" cried Robin, in dismay. She remembered what Mr. Allendyce +had written to her. A party would be terrible!</p> + +<p>"I should think you'd think it was fun—and with all your pretty +clothes. It's exciting meeting people, too. If <i>I</i> were you—"</p> + +<p>Beryl simply wouldn't finish—there were so many things she would do if +she were Gordon Forsyth, she could not begin to name them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin's doleful face betrayed her state of mind.</p> + +<p>"What will I have to do?"</p> + +<p>"That depends upon what kind of a party it is." Beryl felt flattered +that Robin should appeal to her. "And I should think you'd have the say. +<i>I</i> certainly would. Receptions are stiff and dinners aren't much fun. I +think a dance—"</p> + +<p>"But I can't dance. And I never went to a young party in my life!"</p> + +<p>"Well, you're Gordon Forsyth, now, and you'll have to do lots of things +you never did before," reminded Beryl, a comical sternness edging her +voice.</p> + +<p>An hour before, in her empty House of Laughter, poor Robin had thrilled +at the thought of "being" a Forsyth; now, alas, her heart sank to her +boots under the weight of these new obligations she must face. Nor was +she cheered when Mr. Tubbs found her and laid his plans before her. Mr. +Tubbs, short of memory, always carried his thoughts on neat little slips +of paper over-written with memoranda. He fluttered some of these now +before Robin's eyes and Robin saw that they contained lists of names.</p> + +<p>"A party—your guardian is quite right—we were remiss—of course Madame +would have wished—in the old days—it must be at least an at-home—yes, +an at-home—I have found the cards of the best people of the county in +Madame's desk—Harkness will know who of them have died—yes, an +at-home, say from four to seven—Mr. Allendyce and his sister will come +to help you receive—I will talk to Budge—yes—" Mr. Tubbs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> rarely +finished a sentence. He always spoke as though he were thinking +memoranda aloud, and punctuated his words with little tugs at his silky +Van Dyke beard.</p> + +<p>Robin had a rebellious impulse to snatch the fluttering lists from his +long fingers and tear the "best people of the county" into tiny bits but +she remembered what Beryl had said about a Forsyth having to do many +things, smothered a sigh, and said meekly: "I don't know much about +parties."</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady, experience will teach you. They are important—yes, +for one of your station—important as your books. I will see +Budge—about the date—yes."</p> + +<p>"Old grandmother!" cried Beryl, as Mr. Tubbs went off in search of the +housekeeper. "An at-home!" She mimicked his precise tones. "Of all the +tiresome things. He'll invite a lot of doddering old women who'll come +and look you over <i>this</i> way!" Beryl lifted an imaginary lorgnette to +her eyes. "Why didn't you say you'd like a regular party and just have +young people—there's a boys' school only ten miles from here and it +would have been such fun. Of course I couldn't have come down but I +could watch you—"</p> + +<p>"Beryl Lynch, you <i>are</i> coming down or I won't stir one foot. You shall +pick out one of my dresses and we'll make it longer or something. And I +think a party with boys I don't know would be lots more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> terrible than +an at-home. All I hope is that he makes the date soon so that it will be +over with."</p> + +<p>Percival Tubbs, inwardly much annoyed at having the peaceful routine of +his days at the Manor thus disturbed, was as anxious as Robin to have +the party over with. After due deliberation with Mrs. Budge he fixed the +date for a day two weeks ahead. Mrs. Budge insisted she needed that much +time to make "things look like anything."</p> + +<p>Budge and Harkness welcomed the party as a beginning of the "change" +they had prayed might come to Gray Manor.</p> + +<p>"It'll be some'at like old times," Harkness had declared.</p> + +<p>"That chit won't look like much," (poor Budge had not yet forgiven Robin +for being a girl) "but it'll make talk if she ain't shown. Talk enough +for Madame going away like she did. I've half a mind to get out the gold +plate. That old Mis' Crosswaithe from Sharon'll be over here the first +of any, peeking around and she ain't going to see how things are going +to sixes and sevens. No one else ain't either or my name ain't Hannah +Budge. It ain't." And Budge squared her shoulders as a challenge to an +inquisitive world.</p> + +<p>Harkness, while he anxiously watched the weather, grew loquacious over +the old times. "This house has known great parties, missy," he told +Robin. "The best lydies from miles 'round coming in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> carriages. +The Crosswaithes, from Sharon, before old Mr. Crosswaithe died. And the +Cullens and the Grangers—she as was the daughter of a gov'nor. The +Manor was the finest place in the county and things were done right here +and as gay as could be." He launched forth on a long description of +Christopher the Third's eighteenth birthday party. "He come up from +school, missy, with his friends and the young lydies come from New York +and some from these parts and the house was as gay, what with flowers +and palms and music and their talk. And the young master's table was +laid in the conservatory—and the olders sat in the dining-room and Held +come from New York—the best caterer, missy—"</p> + +<p>Robin and Beryl listened with breathless interest—Robin with a moment's +vision of that handsome lad laughing and talking with the "young lydies +from New York." How dreadful, she thought, that only a few months after +that brilliant affair he should have been killed—he would have been +about twenty-four, now—and would have been such a splendid Forsyth, +while she was so small and insignificant.</p> + +<p>"These automobiles are all very well, missy, but if it snows—" and +Harkness scowled through the window at the darkening sky.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean, if it snows—no one will come?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not thinking that, missy, but not so many—the Grangers and their +young people."</p> + +<p>Robin refrained from saying she hoped it <i>would</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> snow, for if Harkness +and Budge enjoyed fussing over the dreadful party she did not want to +spoil their anticipation.</p> + +<p>The entire house seemed ridiculously astir over the approaching event; +extra help came from the village, the air throbbed with the hum of +vacuum cleaners, chairs and tables were beaten with a frenzied +thoroughness, tables polished, everything dusted. Certainly, no one +<i>was</i> going to see that things were going to sixes and sevens!</p> + +<p>Robin and Beryl busied themselves making over one of Robin's dresses for +Beryl, a process to which Beryl consented only after a stormy scene and +tears on Robin's part.</p> + +<p>Robin's plans for her House of Laughter had to be tucked away for the +time, and when she sighed now and then over her ripping and stitching it +was because she'd so much rather be making frilly, crispy curtains for +those little windows.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2><h3>A GIFT TO THE QUEEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>By no means had the girls forgotten their Dowager Queen of Altruria. +They talked of her often; Beryl usually in a speculative vein. Had she +brought the court jewels with her? Did that dreadful Brina kneel on one +knee and kiss the hem of her garment? Did she ever wear her crown?</p> + +<p>Royalty meant much more to Beryl than it did to Robin, for Beryl +attached to it a personal interest. Would she not, as sure as anything, +sometime play before crowned heads by royal command? Sometimes, lying +wide-eyed in the dark, she pictured herself at such a moment, gorgeously +gowned, and delightfully disdainful of the bejeweled, becrowned, stately +kings and queens and little princelings, dukes and duchesses and earls +and countesses, all hanging on the exquisite notes she drew from her +strings. After she finished they would forget their crowns and things +and fall upon her in a sort of humble adoration. Beryl shivered +exquisitely, she could make the picture so very real! Now, when she +dreamed, the queens and duchesses looked like the mysterious mistress of +the house by the Rushing Water.</p> + +<p>Robin thought of their Dowager Queen of Altruria as perhaps being a +little lonely, sometimes. With everyone, now, watching the weather in +anxious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> dread of a snowstorm, it occurred to her that such a storm +would shut the little house near the Rushing Water off from the world.</p> + +<p>"Beryl, let's go and see our Dowager! It may be the last time we can +until Spring. I'd like to take her something, too. Something Christmasy. +Christmas is only two weeks off and think how dreadful to spend +Christmas all by yourself."</p> + +<p>Beryl thought both the visit and the gift a fine idea and set her wits +to working to contrive an offering suitable for one of the Dowager's +station in life.</p> + +<p>She suggested helping themselves to what the Manor had to offer, for, +certainly, Robin, being a Forsyth, had such a "right."</p> + +<p>"Flowers and fruit and maybe a book. It would never be missed and you +could take one of these that hasn't anything written in the front. See, +here's a collection of Dante's poems—it's as good as new. And who'd +ever want it with all these other books here?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's reasoning seemed logical and Robin put aside a tiny doubt she +had as to her right to "help herself" to even a very small volume. Some +day she could explain to her Aunt Mathilde that she had given it to a +nice old lady who lived all alone.</p> + +<p>The girls filled a huge basket with luscious fruit from Budge's +storehouse, and gay flowers from the conservatory, and concealed the +little book under the bright foliage. They decided, after much +deliberation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> to let Williams into their secret, and show him their +offering, so that he would surely consent to drive them to Rushing +Waters.</p> + +<p>"We'll just about get it in before the snow comes," agreed Williams, +scanning the sky with that anxiety to which Robin had grown very +familiar. "A Queen, you say? Well, what do you think of that!" He +laughed uproariously.</p> + +<p>"We're not exactly <i>sure</i>, but we have our suspicions," corrected Beryl +in a freezing tone.</p> + +<p>"And please don't tell a soul because we really have no right to force +ourselves on her if she wants to hide away," begged Robin.</p> + +<p>Williams promised with a chuckle. "Funny kids," he said to himself, +enjoying, nevertheless, the adventure. "I'll do the sleuth stuff in the +corner store while you two are interviewing the Duchess—I beg pardon, +the Queen."</p> + +<p>The girls left Williams, as he suggested, at the little store, while +they, tugging their basket between them, found and followed the path by +the Rushing Water. It was as alluring as ever—berries still clung to +the undergrowth, gleaming red against the dark of the fir trees; the +dead leaves underfoot crackled softly as though protesting their +intrusion; there was a whirring of wings and always the rush of the +water.</p> + +<p>"I'd forgotten how spooky it was," cried Beryl, drawing in her breath.</p> + +<p>"I hope she won't be sorry we came."</p> + +<p>This time Robin knocked. As before, Brina<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> opened the door a little way. +When she saw the two girls she scowled, but stepped backward, announcing +their presence in crisp German.</p> + +<p>The mistress of the house rose a little hastily from the table before +which she was sitting. She was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe of +soft velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and crossing over her +breast, where it was held in place by a brooch of flashing gems. At +sight of her visitors her face softened from haughty surprise to a +resigned amusement. Robin broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"May we come in? We thought we'd like—that maybe you'd like—" Oh, it +was dreadful to know what to say, when all the time you were thinking +she really was a Queen!</p> + +<p>"You have stumbled upon my little house again? Come in and sit down. +Brina and I do not often have callers; you must pardon us if, perhaps, +we are a little awkward in our hospitality. Cæsar, lie down <i>He</i> is glad +to see you! I have been looking over a book of colored prints of old +cathedrals. Would you like to pull your chairs up to the table and look +at them with me?"</p> + +<p>Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to say: "Isn't that just +what an exiled Queen would be doing?" The prints were rare and +exceedingly lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from a New York +gallery. Their hostess told them of some of the quaint cathedral towns +and the stories of the cathedrals themselves. Robin, who had an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> +inherited appreciation of beauty, listened eagerly, putting in now and +then a question or a statement of such intelligence that the "Dowager +Queen" studied her with interest.</p> + +<p>Beryl, thrilled by the ermine and the gleaming brooch, did not care a +fig about the cathedrals but sat back in a rapture of speculation. There +seemed something in the stately head with its crown of white hair, +vaguely, tantalizingly familiar; she must have seen pictures of the +Queen of Altruria somewhere. She watched each gesture and fitted it to +her dream. This Queen who seemed really truly friendly now and almost +human, might go back some day to Altruria, wherever that was, and of +course, when <i>she</i> toured Europe, or maybe even when she was there +studying, she could go and stay at the Palace just like a relative. It +would be fun to visit in a palace and smile at all the fuss and crowns +and things because you were an American and didn't believe in them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we forgot our basket!" cried Robin, suddenly darting to the door +where Brina had, with a sniff, dropped their precious offering. "We +brought these—for a Christmas greeting."</p> + +<p>"They are lovely," cried the "Queen" with sincere delight, her eyes +drinking in hungrily the beauty of the exotic blossoms—for Robin and +Beryl had helped themselves to the best the Manor had. "And fruit—ah, +Brina's heart will rejoice. What is this?" Her slender, shapely hands +fussed over the wrappings of the book, while Robin and Beryl watched.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why—" The Queen turned the book over and over, her face bent so that +its expression was hidden. The girls' delight gave way, now, to +concern—the Queen held the book so long and with such curious +intentness that they wondered, anxiously, if there were anything about +Dante's verses displeasing to a Queen of Altruria. "You never <i>can</i> tell +about those jealous kingdoms over there!" Beryl said afterwards.</p> + +<p>After their hostess had "most worn the book out staring at it" she +lifted her eyes and fixed a curious gaze upon her visitors.</p> + +<p>"This is a rare little treasure," she said in a queer tone. "And may I +not know how it came into your possession—and who you are?"</p> + +<p>Robin's heart jumped into her throat. What had they done? It had looked +like any book except that the leather of the binding seemed softer than +most books and smelled very nice and there were beautiful colored +illustrations inside—but the Queen said it was a rare book and was +wondering where they had gotten it. Perhaps they had helped themselves +to the Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked frantically at +Beryl, who, guessing her intention, gave violent signs of warning, to +which she paid no heed.</p> + +<p>"Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch who lives with me at +the Manor. We took the book from the library there because there are +ever and ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely—when winter +comes—and enjoy it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are Robin Forsyth?" The old lady said the words slowly.</p> + +<p>"My real name is Gordon Forsyth, but I've always been called Red-Robin. +I'm living at Gray Manor now—over in Wassumsic. My father—he's not one +of the rich Forsyths, you see—is an artist and he's travelling with Mr. +Tony Earle, who writes, you know. I wish you could come to the Manor." +Robin's heart was light now, having, by confession, cleared itself of +its moment's dread, and she rattled on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowl +and the Queen's searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. Madame +Forsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though—at least now. She's—she's +travelling. We have a tutor and I have a guardian who lets me do about +what I please. You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I was a +boy—the Forsyths have always <i>been</i> boys; and it was a dreadful shock, +I guess, when my guardian found out I was a girl—and such a small +girl—and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten that, now. But the +housekeeper never <i>will</i> forgive me. And my great-aunt doesn't know, +yet. I wish for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome young +man like young Christopher Forsyth who died—but I can't, so I'm just +going to be as good a Forsyth as I can and make up to them all +for—being a girl."</p> + +<p>"Whom do you mean—'them all?'" asked the Queen. She had dropped into a +chair and turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> her head toward the fire, in very much the same +attitude she had held upon their first visit.</p> + +<p>Robin, encouraged, squatted on the hearth rug, the big dog beside her, +and clasped her hands over her knee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean just Madame Forsyth and my guardian, though I don't +think he cares, now, or that cross old housekeeper; I mean—all the Mill +people. You see the Mills have grown very fast and there are lots and +lots of people working in them, but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent, +is very old-fashioned and he'll never improve things." Robin racked her +brains to recall Dale's and Adam Kraus' exact words. "He's letting the +people live in awful houses and they don't have any fun or—or anything. +And Dale—he's Beryl's brother—says they'd work much better if they had +everything nice. <i>He</i> says the Forsyths don't care, that they just think +of the Mill people as parts of a machine to make money for them, and not +as human beings. Why, there was a girl, Sarah Castle—" and Robin, her +tongue loosed, told eloquently of Sarah Castle and of Susy and Granny +and the old cottage "up the river," and then—because it made it seem so +real to tell about it—of her House of Laughter.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she finished, "if I were a boy I could do much more—or +even if I were big. You see, there's been what Mr. Harkness calls a +gloom over the Manor for a long time; and my great-aunt's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> been so sad +over that that she couldn't think of anything else—and maybe I'll be +doing something if I just show the Mill people that a Forsyth, even if +she's only a girl, <i>does</i> care—a little bit. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>At her appeal the Dowager Queen turned such a haughty face upon her and +answered in such a cold voice: "I'm sure I do not know," that Robin +turned crimson with embarrassment. Of course, a Queen could not even be +remotely interested in the Manor and the Mills—especially if she had to +worry over a whole kingdom herself. She had been silly to rattle on the +way she had!</p> + +<p>Brina, quite unknowingly, came to the rescue with a tray of cakes and a +pot of cocoa.</p> + +<p>Their hostess, her annoyance put aside, smiled graciously again, and +poured the cocoa into little cups while the firelight flashed from the +brooch on her dress. Brina went back and forth with heavy tread, +sullenly watchful of her mistress' smallest need. The girls sat close to +the table upon which still lay the book of cathedral prints and sipped +their cocoa and ate their cakes. The wintry sun shone in through the +curtained windows, giving the room, with its pale glow, a melancholy +cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>"Must you really go?" asked their hostess, politely, when, a half-hour +later, Robin and Beryl exclaimed at the lateness of the hour.</p> + +<p>"Why, we never meant to stay so long! It has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> been so nice." Robin +wondered, if she held out her hand, would the Queen take it? She +ventured it with such a shy, appealing movement that the old lady +clasped it in hers, then dropped it abruptly, as though annoyed by her +own impulsiveness.</p> + +<p>"The afternoon has passed very pleasantly for me." The Queen's voice was +measuredly polite. "I thank you for thinking of me—in my out-of-the-way +corner, and bringing me such lovely gifts." Her eyes turned from the +flowers which Brina had put in a squat pewter pitcher to the book which +lay on the table. Then she turned to Robin and levelled a glance upon +her which held a queer challenge.</p> + +<p>"If you succeed—with your—what did you call it—House of Laughter, let +me know, sometime. I shall be most interested in your experiment."</p> + +<p>"Then she <i>was</i> listening," thought Robin, wondering at the bitter tone +in the woman's voice. "Maybe she's so lonely and so unhappy she hates to +think of laughter."</p> + +<p>"Well, Red-Robin Forsyth, you certainly did spill everything you knew +and a lot more besides," cried Beryl, when the two were alone. "As if a +Queen cared a fig! I tried to head you off a couple of times." Beryl +laughed scornfully. "It was <i>funny</i>!"</p> + +<p>Robin still smarted from her recent embarrassment; she did not relish +Beryl's laughing at her.</p> + +<p>"We had to talk about something," she cried in defence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, if you'd given me a chance I'd have talked about things that are +happening in Europe. Sort of led her on, you know, so's maybe she'd give +herself away. <i>That's</i> what <i>I</i> wanted—to find out something about +<i>her</i> instead of telling all about ourselves. Here she knows everything +about you and you notice she didn't say one word about herself! The +whole afternoon's wasted and we might as well not've gone at all. I +wanted to get something on her so's maybe—some day—" Disgusted, Beryl +broke off abruptly, quickening her step to show her companion her +displeasure.</p> + +<p>Robin limped in silence after her; she <i>had</i> talked too much, the Queen +was probably laughing at her now—and Beryl was angry and disgusted.</p> + +<p>Beryl forgot her moment's displeasure, however, when Williams imparted +to them the "dope" he had on the "Queen-dame," gleaned from the old +storekeeper.</p> + +<p>"Old Si says the 'queer party' bought that house off up there last fall +suddenly and moved up from somewhere or t'other with a truck load of +stuff. The Big-gun, beg pardon, I mean the Queen, came herself, with +some sort of a body-guard in an enclosed car, that went away after it'd +landed them in the woods. Si's sore, I suppose, because they get 'their +vittles sent up from New York'—though I don't know as I blame them from +what I saw in his store. Says the 'queer party' walks through the +village<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> sometimes, but she's always with her body-guard and a big dog, +and wears a heavy veil 'like them furrin' women'." Williams chuckled as +he tried to give to his little account the touches Si had put into it.</p> + +<p>Beryl caught Robin's hand in an ecstasy of delight. "There. <i>That</i> +settles it as sure as anything. I'd like to write to somebody in +Washington and tell what we know and maybe we'd get a reward. Royalty +most always has a price on its head," Beryl finished grandly.</p> + +<p>Robin wanted to protest at the thought of there being a price on that +snow-white head, but not certain as to how far she had been restored in +Beryl's favor, she refrained, and merely smiled in assent to Beryl's +excitement.</p> + +<p>"We've got to hurry back if we beat that cloud yonder," declared +Williams, nodding toward a gathering bank of dark clouds in the western +sky, and the mention of snow brought back to the girls the approaching +party.</p> + +<p>It did snow—long before Williams reached the Manor, so that the car was +covered; throughout the dinner Harkness went again and again to the +window to peer out, always turning back with the worried announcement: +"It's still coming down." And at bedtime Robin, peeping out, saw a world +blanketed white. Even Mr. Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon his soft +pillow with the regretful thought: "Now the Grangers cannot come. A +pity. Yes."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2><h3>THE PARTY</h3> +</div> + +<p>The household at Gray Manor looked upon the heavy fall of snow with +varying emotions. Harkness lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off for +Missy's party. If it was the old days—well, the county lydies could a' +come in their sleighs. All right as far as the post road goes, but the +Grangers—"</p> + +<p>Downstairs Budge rejoiced that the Grangers might not come. "Eyes like a +ferret that woman has and like as not she never got over our boy's +going. She'd say things <i>was</i> going to sixes and sevens, with a little +thing no bigger'n a penny in our boy's shoes—she would. But I'd like to +know who ever'll eat all the stuff I'm fixing!" The house cleaned to a +fine polish from attic to cellar, Mrs. Budge had turned her attention +most generously to the food.</p> + +<p>"Why does everyone care about Mrs. Granger?" asked Robin, of Harkness, +when even Percival Tubbs regretted, with a sigh, that Mrs. Granger might +not find it possible to come.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame herself," explained +Harkness. "In the old days her people and the Manor people were thick +like and visited backward and forward. And there was talk of young +Christopher some day marrying the young lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tell +his death was a sad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> blow to them. They haven't been coming much to the +Manor since, but we laid it to Madame's queer ways and the gloom."</p> + +<p>"Will the others be able to come? Won't Mrs. Budge have <i>lots</i> too much +food?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you might say most will make it, for they keep the post roads +open. We'll hope for the best, missy," he added, interpreting Robin's +anxious questioning as an expression of disappointment.</p> + +<p>But Robin's sudden concern over the party had nothing to do with the +coming of Mrs. Granger or anyone else. As she had stood in the window, +her nose flattened against the pane, staring out at the snowy slopes, +she had been suddenly inspired by a beautiful plan. She turned to Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Can something be sent up from New York in a day?"</p> + +<p>"Depends." Beryl answered shortly. "What?"</p> + +<p>With one of the lightning-like decisions, characteristic of her, Robin +decided not to take Beryl into her confidence—just yet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was thinking. Something about my party. I'll tell you—later."</p> + +<p>Beryl stared at Robin a little suspiciously—Robin looked queer, +all-tight-inside, as though she'd made up her mind to do something. It +was the new Robin again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell—</p> + +<p>After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer garments and slipped out of +the house while Beryl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fully +grown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch.</p> + +<p>Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted down Mrs. Budge, whom +she found mixing savory concoctions in a huge bowl.</p> + +<p>"M'm, how good things smell," she began, to break down the hostility she +saw in Budge's eye, "Is that for the party?"</p> + +<p>"'S going to be," and Budge stirred more vigorously than ever.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Budge, will there be enough food for—some extra ones—I've +invited or I'm—going to invite?"</p> + +<p>Budge dropped her spoon. "Well, no one ever went hungry in <i>this</i> +house," she answered crisply. "May I ask who <i>your</i> guests are?" Budge +permitted herself the pleasure of a meaning inflection on the "your."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not quite sure—yet, only I wanted to know about the food—" +Robin retreated step by step toward the door, her limp exaggerated by +the movement. "I'm waiting for word from my guardian."</p> + +<p>"<i>Robin</i>! Humph," Budge flung at the door as it closed upon the girl. +"If it wasn't that this house depended on me I'd drop my spoon and walk +out this minit, I would, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. Guests! Like as +not some of these Mill truck."</p> + +<p>More than the snowstorm threatened the success of Robin's "at-home." For +Cornelius Allendyce was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> suddenly prostrated by a bad attack of +sciatica. And his sister declared she could not leave him; at such times +only her patient and faithful ministrations eased his intense suffering.</p> + +<p>"I'll telephone to Wassumsic right away and don't you worry," she begged +of him, "they'll get along somehow or other."</p> + +<p>"They'll have to," the guardian growled, between groans.</p> + +<p>But before Miss Effie could telephone, Robin's telegram came. Cornelius +Allendyce opened it with indifferent fingers, read it, then rose upright +with such suddenness that a loud cry of pain burst from him.</p> + +<p>"Will you listen to this? That child wants me to express fifty sleds to +the Manor, at once! Read it and see if I've gone crazy."</p> + +<p>"There, there, lie still, Cornelius—I don't care if she wants fifty +sleds or fifty hundred. Send them to her and wait until you're well to +find out if she coasted on all of them or wanted them for kindling wood. +There—I knew it'd make your pain worse. Wait—I'll warm this!" All +solicitous, for her brother's face had twisted in agony, the sister +dropped the telegram and busied herself over her patient.</p> + +<p>Her advice seemed good. "Well, send them. Tell them to rush the order," +he groaned, then gave himself over to his suffering with, somewhere back +in his head, the thought that there was quite a bit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> more to being a +guardian than he had calculated.</p> + +<p>So while Harkness and Budge and Mrs. Williams, pressed into service, +made the old Manor festive with flowers and pine boughs, Robin completed +the plans for her part of the party, and confided to Beryl that fifty of +the Mill youngsters were coming to the Manor to coast on the sloping +hillside.</p> + +<p>"Robin Forsyth, what ever will they all say?"</p> + +<p>"Who?" demanded Robin, with aggravating innocence.</p> + +<p>"All the guests. Why, Robin, you're hopeless! You simply can't get it +into your head that the Forsyths are different from—the Mill people."</p> + +<p>"They're not. And we haven't time to argue now. They're coming—a lot of +them. Your mother invited them for me through the school teacher—you +see, there wasn't time for me to, because I didn't know where the +younger children lived. My guardian has sent on the duckiest sleds—all +red. Williams brought them up and they're out in the garage. He's going +to take charge of my part of the party."</p> + +<p>"Does Budge know?"</p> + +<p>Robin hated to admit that she had been afraid to tell Budge. She flushed +ever so slightly. "N-no. At least I told her there were some extra +coming. Oh, Beryl, <i>don't</i> act as though you thought everything was +going to be a failure. I thought—as long as there was going to be this +stupid old reception here and lots of nice food, it was the <i>only</i> time +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> have a party for the kiddies, for Budge would never cook a crumb if +it were just for them. I wish my guardian were here—I <i>know</i> he'd +understand."</p> + +<p>"Where are they going to eat?"</p> + +<p>"The ladies? Oh, the children. I've told Harkness to put a table in the +conservatory and make it Christmasy."</p> + +<p>"You're clever, Robin. Harkness will do it for you—but, oh, he'll hate +it; I can hear him—'things aren't like they used to be.' As my father'd +say-you're killing the goose that lays the golden egg, all righto. Budge +will tell Madame, sure's anything."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Robin quietly, a little gleam in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, stupid, the Forsyths aren't going to stand for that sort of thing. +They'll send you back—"</p> + +<p>"Beryl, do you think I'm staying here for the Forsyth money—or—or care +about it? I came here so that Jimmie could go away without worrying +about me. When he comes home I shall go back to him, of course."</p> + +<p>"Leave Gray Manor?" Beryl's voice rang incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Of course. I like it here and there are lots of things I want to do, +but when Jimmie comes back—if he wants me—" her voice trembled.</p> + +<p>Beryl stared at Robin as though she saw a strange creature in the +familiar guise. "You <i>are</i> the queerest girl. You don't seem to care for +the things money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> can get for you!" She had to pause, to pick her words. +"Why, if <i>I</i> had the chance—all the advantages, and taking lovely +trips, and the fun. You could go to one of these girls' schools and play +tennis and golf and ride horseback! And always have pretty clothes!" The +bitter edge to Beryl's voice betrayed how much she would like these +things.</p> + +<p>"Would you desert your mother and—and Dale for things like that? Would +you?"</p> + +<p>In her relentless dreaming, in her sturdy ambitions, Beryl had never put +such a question to herself. She had simply never seen them in her +picture. She evaded a direct answer now.</p> + +<p>"They'd want me to!"</p> + +<p>"Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are like that. Just +unselfish. But you wouldn't give your mother up for anything. I know you +wouldn't."</p> + +<p>Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. In her innermost +heart—an honest heart it was—she was not quite sure; her life had been +different from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things and go +straight for them; so had Dale. If getting them meant sacrificing +sentiment—well, she'd do it. So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thought +Dale perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand because Robin had +never wanted anything big—Beryl always fell back upon this comforting +thought.</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't get so interested in +your kids that you forget Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> Granger. She <i>is</i> coming—they +telephoned that the road is open."</p> + +<p>Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of Beryl's head to show her +that, no matter how much they disagreed, they were good friends, and +went off in search of Harkness.</p> + +<p>The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servants +ready. With myriad lights, gleaming from candles and chandeliers, +reflecting in the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and bronze, +the air sweet with the scent of pine and flowers, the old Manor had +something of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the +old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with a +dour and suspicious eye and Harkness, dignified in his faded livery, +made the "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as he could, +with a heart heavy with doubt as to the "fitness" of Missy's whims.</p> + +<p>Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very small in the stately +drawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the +hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as +Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts +on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were +flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in +glee.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span></p> + +<p>True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrived +first. Robin saw masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened face +somewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot Mr. Tubbs' careful +teaching, said "I'm pleased to know you," instead, and held out her hand +to the tall, thin, mannishly dressed young woman behind Mrs. +Crosswaithe, who, though Robin did not know it, was Mrs. Crosswaithe's +daughter.</p> + +<p>For an hour the guests arrived in as steady a stream as their +high-powered cars could carry them through the heavy roads. The Manor +had not been opened like this for years and the "best people in the +county" took advantage of the opportunity to look for signs of failing +fortunes, to see the "girl" who had come to the Manor, and to find out +just where Madame was travelling. Thanks to Budge's heroic work no one +discovered any sign of change in the old house; their questioning only +met with disappointment, and Budge's food was of much more interest than +the young heiress who, they decided, was a pretty little thing but much +too small for her age.</p> + +<p>Robin shook hands until her arm ached, mumbled the wrong thing most of +the time which, however, did not seem to make any difference with +anyone, and kept one eye longingly on the window, and one ear listening +for the shouts outside which were growing louder and louder. She seized +an opportunity to go to the window and watch, so that when the great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> +Mrs. Granger arrived Mr. Tubbs had to, a little sharply, recall her to +her duty.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she—awful?" whispered Robin to Beryl, as Mrs. Granger, after +condescendingly patting Robin's hand, swept on.</p> + +<p>"She thinks <i>she's</i> so grand, but she ought to see the Queen!" Which +observation would have enraged Mrs. Granger, had she heard it, for she +had felt particular satisfaction in her dress and hat, sent on, only the +day before, from the most expensive shop in New York.</p> + +<p>"Miss Alicia didn't come—she's in California. Say, Robin, there's a +Granger boy, 'bout eighteen. Maybe that's why my lady Granger's so sweet +to you."</p> + +<p>"Silly!" Robin flung at Beryl in retort. "Oh, dear, can't I go out to my +own guests now?"</p> + +<p>Robin and Williams had planned that the children should be admitted to +the conservatory through a side door, leaving their outer garments in a +vestibule. So, when everything was in readiness for them, Harkness gave +the sign, and Williams herded his noisy troupe to the house.</p> + +<p>Many of the older guests had been present at that memorable birthday +party on young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and they recalled now, +over their salad plates, the brilliancy of that affair and touched upon +all that had happened since in the way of change. Mrs. Granger displayed +much emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> made a picture I will never forget!" and she nodded toward the +glass doors, curtained in soft silk, which led from the dining room to +the conservatory and which Harkness had carefully closed. "I wonder if I +might just peep in? Ah, the memories. My dear Alicia and that handsome +boy—" she touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes.</p> + +<p>Several who had overheard her followed Mrs. Granger to the closed doors +and stood behind her as she opened them. And their eyes beheld a sight +so different from that birthday party that they stepped back in +amazement, Mrs. Granger lifting her lorgnette in trembling fingers.</p> + +<p>Youngsters of every size and of every degree of greed crowded around the +long table, the "Christmasy" decoration of which had already been pulled +to pieces by eager reaching hands. Faces, still red from the crisp air +and streaked where dirty coat sleeves had rubbed them, beamed across the +heaping plates, busy fingers crammed away the goodies. One small boy +half-lay across the table; another stood in his chair, his frayed woolen +cap set rakishly back and over one ear. On each excited countenance a +shadow of suspicion mingled with the joy, a fear that the same magic +which had brought it might snatch all this strange and lovely fun away. +Harkness watched at one end of the table, Williams at another. And in +their midst sat Robin.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" murmured Mrs. Granger. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> exclamation was drowned, +however, in the babble of youthful sound let loose upon the "best people +of the County" by the opening of the door. "Miss Gordon is going in for +the pretty charity thing, is she?"</p> + +<p>All might have gone well even then—for Harkness had a stern eye on +everyone of Robin's small guests—had not little Susy seen her beloved +"big girl" slip through the group at the big glass doors. Susy was the +youngest of the children there; she did not go to school regularly +enough to feel at home with the others, she had refused to slide, and, +at the table had not really begun to enjoy herself until Robin had sat +down next to her, put her arm around her and coaxed her to eat the food +on the plate before her. The food had turned out to be very good and +Susy had crammed it down with her fingers, regardless of fork or spoon. +Now her "big girl" had slipped away, she was alone, that man at the end +was staring at her, panic seized her, a mad longing to escape, +anywhere—preferably back to the shelter of the "big girl's" friendly +arm. She slid down from her seat, her eyes wildly sweeping the room; +Harkness, like an ogre, guarded one end of the table, Williams' bulk +stood between her and the outer door; there was only the one way, +through the glass doors. Head down, she ran swiftly the length of the +conservatory and bolted into the little group of people watching from +the dining room door. Someone big blocked her way. With frightened hands +she pushed at her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span></p> + +<p>"Want Granny! <i>Want Granny!</i> Get 'way! Uh-h-h!"</p> + +<p>"The dreadful little thing!" someone said.</p> + +<p>Robin, hearing the shrill cry, rushed to the rescue, and, kneeling, +gathered poor weeping Susy into a close embrace. Over the child's +tousled head she smiled nervously at her staring guests.</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing, she's shy!" Then, feeling Susy quivering in her +clasp, she whispered something magical in her ears. It was only: "Robin +will keep tight hold of your hand, Susy-girl, and you needn't be a bit +frightened and by and by, if you're quiet, we'll fill a bag of goodies +for your brother and Granny." But it soothed Susy at once, and, clinging +to Robin's hand, she stared at the guests from the shelter of Robin's +skirts.</p> + +<p>There was a little stir among the "best people of the County"—a renewal +of the chatter, high-pitched, pleasant nothings, and side remarks, in +careful undertones.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, not a bit like a Forsyth."</p> + +<p>"I rather think Madame doesn't know what is going on here."</p> + +<p>"Fancy entertaining these little persons and Mrs. Granger with the same +spoon, so to speak."</p> + +<p>And, in a corner, Mrs. Granger was raging over the damaging imprint of +two sticky hands on the delicate fabric of her costly gown. For her's +had been the bulk that had stood between Susy and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> "big girl," and +Susy had been eating chocolate marshmallow cake with both hands!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Granger had come to Gray Manor with the intention of coaxing Miss +Gordon to spend Christmas at Wyckham, the Granger home. But, as she made +ineffectual dabs at the greasy spots on her skirt with her silly little +handkerchief, she put such a thought quite away from her mind.</p> + +<p>"Brat!" she cried under her breath, angrily, and from the way she glared +at Robin and Susy no one could have told which of the two she meant.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2><h3>CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR</h3> +</div> + +<p>Christmas without Jimmie was, for Robin, a thing not to think about. And +from Beryl, inasmuch as that young lady affected a stoical indifference +to the holiday, she could get little sympathy. Beryl had shocked her +with the heresy: "Christmas is just for rich people, anyway."</p> + +<p>"It is not. Oh, it isn't," Robin had cried in remonstrance. But she +could not tell of her and Jimmie's happy Christ-days without giving way +to the tears which, at the thought, scalded the backs of her eyes. It +had not been alone the holly and pine of the shop windows, or the simple +gifts Jimmie's loyal and more fortunate friends brought, or the usual +merry feast that had made them happy; it had been a deep and beautiful +understanding of the Infinite Love that had given the Christ-child to +the world, that Love which surpassed even Jimmie's love for her or hers +for Jimmie, and that was hers and everyone elses. She had felt it first +when, a very little girl, she had gone, once, with Jimmie into the +purple shadows of a great church, where the air was sweet with incense +and vibrating with the muted notes of an organ. She had stood with +Jimmie before a little cradle that had seemed beautiful with gold and +precious colors but, when she looked again, was a humble thing of wood +and straw, and what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> she had thought so bright was the radiance of +candles and the reflection from the many-colored windows. Then she had +looked at the cradle more closely and had found that it held a beautiful +wax babe. When Jimmie tugged at her hand she had reluctantly turned +away. At the same time a shabby old woman and a little boy, who had been +kneeling nearby, arose, and the old woman and the little boy had smiled +at her—a <i>different</i> smile and she had smiled back. On the way home +Jimmie had explained to her that the Gift of the Christ-child was the +great universal gift and belonged to everyone, the world over. She knew, +then, why the shabby old woman had smiled—it was over the Gift they +shared.</p> + +<p>"Christmas is for <i>everybody</i>," she finished.</p> + +<p>"Well, all it means to me now that I'm big," pursued Beryl, "is stores +full of lovely things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money +to buy them. And talking about how much everything is. I heard a woman +once saying she had to spend five dollars on her aunt because her aunt +always spent five dollars on her. That's why I say Christmas is for the +rich—it's a sort of general exchange and take it back if you don't like +it or have half a dozen like 'em, or put it away and send it to some one +next Christmas. Miss Lewis, at the Settlement where mother worked, gave +a book to a lady one Christmas and got it back the next, and the leaves +weren't even cut."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span></p> + +<p>Robin laughed in spite of her disapproval of Beryl's heresy. "There +<i>are</i> different kinds of Christmases, Beryl, and I'll show you," she +protested, then and there vowing to make the Christmas at the Manor a +merry one, in spite of odds.</p> + +<p>"Well, the nicest thing <i>I</i> know that's going to happen is that +Rub-a-dub-dub is going home," retorted Beryl.</p> + +<p>"That <i>is</i> nice, but there'll be even nicer things. Let's invite your +mother and Dale for dinner and have a little tree and we'll make all +sorts of foolish things to put on it."</p> + +<p>To Beryl this did not sound at all exciting but Robin loved the thought +of sitting with Mrs. Lynch and Dale and Beryl, like one happy family, +around the long table. She'd ask Harkness to cut pine boughs and a nice +smelly tree, which she and Beryl would adorn with gifts that had no more +value than a good laugh.</p> + +<p>And she would coax Harkness to get Williams and his nice wife to help +open and clean the House of Laughter. She'd like to have it a Christmas +gift from her to the Mill children.</p> + +<p>She found Harkness ready for her wildest suggestion. He had confided to +Williams and Mrs. Budge that he felt sorry for little Missy alone in the +big house on Christmas.</p> + +<p>"A lot of pine and holly, Missy, and the old place won't look the same. +A tree—of course there'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> be a tree! Whoever heard of Christmas +without a tree. Many's the one I've cut with the young master; he'd have +no one but Harkness do it, for he said I always found the best trees."</p> + +<p>But the old man's head began to whirl a little when Robin explained +about the House of Laughter and the dinner that must be "different." She +had to tell him again and again, until her tone grew pleading.</p> + +<p>"I'll help you, Missy, only I'm a little slow just understanding. It'll +come, though, it'll come. Williams will give a hand and his wife maybe, +and I'll tell Mrs. Budge about the Christmas cakes and things. It'll be +as merry a Christmas as old Harkness can make it, Missy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Harkness, you're a dear," Robin cried, with a look that made +the old man's heart almost burst with affection.</p> + +<p>"But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than she has to know," he +thought, as he went off to do Robin's bidding.</p> + +<p>With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, who had married the +telegraph operator at the little station, pressed into the work, the +empty cottage at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Windows +were opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in the sweet cold air; +under the magic of strong soap and good muscle the old wood-work shone +with cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> Harkness and +Williams hauled down a load of wood and piled it high by the back door; +Mrs. Lynch transformed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, eager +thing.</p> + +<p>Williams, who was very clever and would have been a carpenter if he +hadn't been a chauffeur, built tables out of rough boards and, in the +living room, put up shelves for books and the window seat Robin wanted.</p> + +<p>Robin and Beryl flew about in everyone's way, eager to help and generous +with advice.</p> + +<p>"There, I'd say things were pretty nice," exclaimed Williams, at the end +of the sixth day of work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction the +chair he had made out of "odds and ends."</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't look like what we want—yet!" Robin glanced about +dolefully. "It needs such a lot to make it homey. Where'll we ever get +it all?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Robin, Rome wasn't built in a day, as I ever heard of," +protested Harkness, a smudge over his nose and two long nails between +his teeth. "I guess there's truck enough in the attic up there at the +Manor to fill this house and a dozen like it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Harkness, may we use it? Or—just borrow it until my aunt +returns? Can we?"</p> + +<p>Harkness exchanged glances with Williams. Harkness knew that it had long +been Mrs. Budge's custom to make a two day trip to New York during the +week preceding Christmas. They could take advantage of her absence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, to do." And no one thought +of smiling at his "we" for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or she +had a share in Robin's House of Laughter.</p> + +<p>But even stripping the Manor attic of its "truck" did not satisfy Robin +and the day before Christmas found her House of Laughter lacking in the +things she wanted most.</p> + +<p>"It ought to have jolly pictures and ever so many books and pillows and +nice, frilly curtains," she mourned, wondering how much they would cost +and how she could ever get them.</p> + +<p>On Christmas morning, Harkness dragged to Robin's door a box of gifts +from her guardian. Most of them Miss Effie had selected, as poor +Cornelius Allendyce was still confined to his room, and that +good-hearted woman had, with a burst of real Christmas spirit, simply +duplicated each gift, for, though she wasn't at all sure, yet, that this +"companion" of Robin's choosing was the refined sort Robin ought to +have, nevertheless she was a girl like Robin and Christmas was +Christmas. Beryl appreciated the thoughtfulness more than she could +express and when she found a little book entitled "Old Violins" and +<i>only one</i>, she hugged it to her with a rush of happy feeling.</p> + +<p>Later in the morning Mrs. Granger's chauffeur arrived with a great box +of bon-bons in queer shapes and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had ever +seen anything quite so extravagantly contrived.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span></p> + +<p>"She paid a fortune for <i>that</i>," declared Beryl, appraisingly. "She must +have forgiven Susy for spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking of +her son again. Let me read the card. 'Hoping you will coax that nice Mr. +Tubbs to bring you to us before my youngsters go back to school—' +Didn't I tell you, Robin?"</p> + +<p>"I won't go," Robin answered briefly, pushing box and card away with a +gesture that disposed of Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim the +tree."</p> + +<p>Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the straightest, +princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. Its fragrance penetrated and +filled the old house. The girls went about sniffing joyously, carrying +in their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of bright paper. +Harkness, oddly dishevelled and excited, balanced on a stepladder and +fastened the gay ornaments where Robin directed.</p> + +<p>Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christmas tree without the +usual tinsel and glittering baubles. But after Robin and Harkness had +worked for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very Christmasy and +"different."</p> + +<p>"You're awfully clever, Robin," she declared, in a tone frankly +grudging. "You make little things count for so much—like mother."</p> + +<p>"I think <i>that's</i> a compliment. And speaking of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> your mother, Beryl +Lynch, we have just time to wash our hands and faces and change our +dresses before she comes. Oh, hasn't this day simply flown? And <i>hasn't</i> +it been nice, after all? Isn't Harkness darling—look at him." For +Harkness, his head on one side, a sprig of holly over one ear where +Robin had put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which Robin had +made of bright tissue paper and which he had carefully hung by the +heels.</p> + +<p>"That kite looks as real as can be, Missy."</p> + +<p>Giggling, the girls rushed away to make ready for what Robin declared +(though she had been much hurt by Dale's refusing to come) the nicest +part of Christmas.</p> + +<p>Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with the last touches of the +Christmas feast.</p> + +<p>"That's the prettiest cake I ever saw if I do say so," she cried, +patting the round cherry which adorned the centre of the gaily frosted +cake. Then, lest she grow cheerful, she drew a long sigh from the depths +of her bosom. "But, cake or no cake, I never thought I'd live to feed +Mill persons, coming to our table like the best people. Things plain +common. It ain't like the old days—it ain't."</p> + +<p>"The old days are old days, Hannah Budge," rebuked Harkness, who had +come into the kitchen. "Mebbe our little lydy's ways aren't our ways but +it isn't so bad hearing the young voices and you'll admit, Mrs. Budge, +that that's a fine cake and there'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> be no cake if Missy wasn't here, +now, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't time for your philosophizing, Timothy Harkness. With things +at sixes and sevens I have enough to do!" But Mrs. Budge's tone had +softened. She <i>had</i> not made a Christmas cake (at sixteen Hannah Budge +had taken the prize at the County Agricultural Exhibit for the finest +decorated cake, and she had never forgotten it) since Master Christopher +the Third had left them. And she <i>had</i> enjoyed hearing young voices and +eager steps in the old house and had caught herself that very morning, +as she helped Chloe stuff the turkey, singing:</p> + +<p>"Oh, com-m-me let 'tus a-dor-r-re Him."</p> + +<p>Chloe's last delectable dish for the dinner eaten, Harkness drew back +the folding doors to reveal the Christmas tree in the conservatory. And +Robin, waiting for Mrs. Lynch's "oh" of admiration, gave vent herself to +a delighted cry of surprise for, at the foot of the tree, so still as to +seem a graven image, sat little Susy, cross-legged, staring in wrapt +contentment at the bright ornaments.</p> + +<p>"Susy, you <i>darling</i>, where in the world did you drop from?" Robin +rushed to her and knelt at her side.</p> + +<p>Without moving her eyes so much as a fraction of an inch, Susy indicated +the side door of the conservatory as her means of entrance. In one hand +she clutched a soiled ragged picture book, on its uppermost page the +colorful illustration of "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> Night before Christmas." Susy had not +forgotten the magic of that side door which had opened for her upon a +feast beyond her wildest imaginings; if there were a place on earth +where that Christmas tree of her picture could come really true it must +be at the "big girl's." Alone she had bravely climbed the hill to the +Manor to find out.</p> + +<p>Not a word could Robin's questioning drag from her.</p> + +<p>"You shall stay here as long as you want," Robin finally declared, +popping a round bon-bon between the child's trembling lips. "We needed a +little girl to sit at the foot of that tree, didn't we?"</p> + +<p>At Robin's command, Harkness played the rôle of Santa. The girls had +fashioned all sorts of nonsensical gifts out of paper and cardboard and +paste; no one was forgotten. Mrs. Lynch declared herself "as rich as +rich" with bracelets and a necklace made of red berries. Mrs. Budge, +forgetting, when Robin held a sprig of mistletoe over her head and +daringly kissed her wrinkled cheek, that "things was going to sixes and +sevens," laughed until her sides ached at Harkness in his silly clown's +cap. Robin and Beryl, with much solemnity, exchanged purchases each had +secretly made at the village store and Robin could not resist adding: +"Dare you to send it to me next Christmas."</p> + +<p>Beryl had to admit, deep in her heart, that Robin had managed a +Christmas full of joy that had nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> to do with stores full of lovely +things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money to buy them. +Never having thought much about the Christmas spirit, she had no name +with which to explain Mrs. Budge's awkwardly kind manner—even to her, +or her mother's unusual animation, or why the picture of little Susy, +still rooted to the tree, clasping a great paper doll in her arms, made +her glad all over. But after a little she disappeared, and presently, +from the library, came the strains of her violin, low, pulsing with a +deep emotion, now a laugh, now a sob, climbing higher and higher until +they sang like the far-off, quivery note of a bird, flying into the +heavens.</p> + +<p>A deep hush fell over the little group of merrymakers. Harkness coughed +into his hand. Mrs. Budge fussed around the spacious belt of a dress for +a handkerchief and, finding none, surreptitiously lifted a corner of her +apron. Mrs. Lynch caught her throat with a convulsive movement as though +something hurt it. Robin, watching her, slipped her hand into the +mother's and squeezed it.</p> + +<p>"Don't go," she whispered when the music suddenly ceased. "Beryl's +funny. She likes to be alone when she plays."</p> + +<p>"I never heard her play—like <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl's wonderful!" Robin smiled happily in her faith. "She makes +that all up, too, 'cause she hasn't any music. She's going to be the +greatest violinist in the world. Hush!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span></p> + +<p>Beryl had begun a lilting refrain, as though a mother laughed as she +sang a lullaby. It had in it a familiar strain which carried little Mrs. +Moira back to Beryl's baby days. Then the lullaby swung into the deeper +tones of a Christmas anthem and again into a tempestuous outburst of +melody, as though Beryl had let loose all at once the riotous feelings +that surged within her.</p> + +<p>Just as the last note died away a bell pealed through the house. Because +it was still Christmas, really being only nine o'clock, everyone looked +for a surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when Harkness placed an +impressive envelope in Robin's hands and said that a stranger had +brought it to the door.</p> + +<p>"He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but before I could as much +as say 'Good evening' he was off in the dark."</p> + +<p>Robin studied the address, which was printed. It gave no clue +whatsoever. Nor was there anything else on the envelope. She broke the +sealed flap, with an excited giggle. Five crisp bank-notes fell out.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake," cried Beryl, staring. "Who ever sent them?"</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class='letter'>"<span class="smcap">To Miss Gordon Forsyth</span>. Please use this money for your House of +Laughter. I am deeply interested in your experiment. Frankly, I do +not believe it will work; but if it does my little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> contribution +will be well spent; and if it doesn't, my own conviction will be +justified.</p> + +<p class='sig'><span class="smcap">Your Friend near the Rushing Water</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Beryl squealed with delight. "How <i>larky</i> to have her remember every +solitary thing you told her, Robin—even what we called her house. What +are you going to do with it all? I wish <i>I</i> could get money like that."</p> + +<p>Robin stood staring at the letter—not at all jubilant over the +unexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't said she didn't believe the +experiment would work. It <i>isn't</i> an experiment and it <i>will</i> work. I'm +not <i>trying</i> anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, who hastily +assured her with a "No, dearie." Then Robin gathered up the bank-notes.</p> + +<p>"Though I did wish we had more nice things for the house and now we can +get them. But isn't this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen a one +and two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. "I never had so much in my +life."</p> + +<p>At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas celebration apparently +abandoned in the excitement of the strange letter, she departed +kitchenward.</p> + +<p>Harkness volunteered to escort Susy and Mrs. Lynch back to the village. +In a twinkling the house had quieted so that the girls' footsteps, as +they climbed the stairs, resounded strangely.</p> + +<p>Robin leaned for a moment against the banister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> and looked back into the +shadows of the great, dimly-lit hall.</p> + +<p>"Listen a moment, Beryl! Can't you hear tiny echoes of voices and +laughter? Don't you s'pose even the things we think and feel get into +the air, too—and linger?"</p> + +<p>Beryl tugged at her arm. "Oh, come on, Robin. You make me creepy. You'll +be seeing ghosts in a moment. I want to have a good look at that letter. +<i>Wasn't</i> it a surprise, though?"</p> + +<p>But after a close study of it, Beryl threw the letter down in +disappointment. "Not so much as a tiny crown on it! I'll bet she had +someone write it for her, too. It looks all big and scrawly—like a man. +Anyway, Robin, you ought to keep one of the bills as a souvenir."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2><h3>THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>The day after Christmas, and for many days thereafter, Robin counted +over the five precious bank-notes. She knew with her eyes shut each line +and shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept them in a little +heart-shaped box that had been a favor at a studio party she had gone to +with Jimmie a few years ago.</p> + +<p>Their magic opened possibilities for her House of Laughter; +curtains—cushions—books—pictures—games, why, she could have all the +things she had wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And behind +her eager planning was a thought she kept shut tight away in her heart. +If there were any money left—by careful buying—the Queen would surely +want her to give it to Dale to perfect his model. For had not Adam Kraus +and Dale both said that the little invention would make everything at +the Mills better? She would present her gift to him at the "opening" of +the House of Laughter. Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there. +Under cover of the general merriment she would find an opportunity. She +went over and over, until she could say them backward, the few words +with which she would make him accept the money.</p> + +<p>Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> mind, declared she +fussed an awful lot over samples and lists for anyone who had so much +money to spend and Mrs. Lynch encouraged her economy because, she said, +"'Twas likely as not the roof'd leak in the Spring and shingles cost a +lot, they did." When Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonne +too expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese cloth they bought at +the village store a gay yellow. And she wisely counselled Robin to let +her write to Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the Settlement +House where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitable +pictures and the right books with which to begin. "<i>She'll</i> know, +dearie."</p> + +<p>While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch took +pains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the Mill +Village by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley and +telling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word," she +explained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people were +going to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute little +cards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not been +able to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poor +Harkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> Miss +Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves.</p> + +<p>Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of the +living room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and +laughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, because +he looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang over +the shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest in +the festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robin +let her help in planning everything to the smallest detail.</p> + +<p>The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their +sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and +depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening +the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in +the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the +books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be +sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little +speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do +what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind +the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, +shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted +that she really must because she was a "Forsyth."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them +to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night.</p> + +<p>And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars left +in the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from her +ridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune.</p> + +<p>Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectant +sponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve +o'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went to +Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and better +living conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the +first time these complaints and requests had been laid before the +superintendent—but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girls +who hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hope +kindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talk +so convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris +realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more money +almost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. Adam +Kraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero—for the moment. As he +came, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quick +shout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw his +failure written on his angry face. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> pressed about him, eager for +details, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he +had not been able to make Norris listen.</p> + +<p>"I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills more +than a month.</p> + +<p>A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking strident +laugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the louder +curses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, +talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one of +these groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he +shake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat his +mother's good Saturday meal—overcooked for standing.</p> + +<p>"Has Adam been to Norris again?" asked big Danny.</p> + +<p>Dale nodded. It was not necessary for either his father or mother to ask +the outcome of the call. "Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've been +wondering if Adam is right—about the way to get this."</p> + +<p>"He ought to know more'n you do," flared big Danny, who loved something +upon which to vent his own rancor.</p> + +<p>"I suppose." Dale admitted, eating with quick, absent-minded gulps. "I'd +like to be the head of these Mills—I'd see both sides and make the +other fellow see, too."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure, it's wonderful you'd be," murmured Mrs. Lynch, caressingly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm about as far from it as I am from being President of the +United States. Adam has a better chance—if he ever gets his way. +<i>There's</i> a leader."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch cut a generous portion of apple pie in a silence that said +plainly she did not agree with her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped his +lips, pushed back the plate.</p> + +<p>"The Rileys have got to move up the river."</p> + +<p>"Dale, you don't say so?" Mrs. Lynch was all concern now. The Rileys +were neighbors. Tim Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at the +Mills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped Mrs. Riley care for +her husband and had grown very fond of the plucky little woman. "Why, +it's his death he'll get with the dampness up there, and those blessed +little colleens."</p> + +<p>"Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work half-time now and he can't +afford one of these houses."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Lynch. "Don't tell Robin," she begged. +"It's so happy the child is with her House of Laughter, as she calls it +and—Dale, she's a different Forsyth."</p> + +<p>"She's just a kid," he answered, in a tone that implied Robin could have +little weight against the impregnable House of Forsyth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span></p> + +<p>But a few hours later, when, with the coming of night into the valley, +the last tired youngster departed from the House of Laughter, balloon on +high, the "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its original +perfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as her spirits.</p> + +<p>"<i>Wasn't</i> it a success? Didn't the children have a wonderful time?" she +begged to know, with all the happy concern of a middle-aged hostess. +"Are you dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's the real +test." She stopped suddenly and leaned on her broom, her face very +serious. "I do hope the big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn't +said she didn't believe our—experiment would work. Why <i>won't</i> it work? +Don't grown-ups like to be happy just as much as children—when they get +a chance?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch had no answer for Robin's wondering. "Queens don't know about +things in this country," Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books are +just about ruined. I thought Tommy Black would eat up this Arabian +Nights."</p> + +<p>"That shows how much they want them! I don't care if they <i>do</i> eat +them." Robin was too happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't her +beautiful plan in the process of coming true? And didn't she have her +money in her pocket all ready for Dale's grasp?</p> + +<p>She had brought flowers from the Manor which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> she arranged on the tables +and the mantel under her beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellow +glow of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and the gleams of +red from the shiny stove, which had to do for the fireplace Robin had +wanted, and the brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served to +soften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpeting and the shabby +furnishings brought from the Manor attic.</p> + +<p>"I do think everything's lovely and it's just because you've all been so +kind about helping," Robin declared, viewing the room with pride. "I +hope ever so many people'll come and that they'll believe it's theirs. +But, oh, Beryl, don't you think we could make them know without my +saying a speech?" And Robin shivered with nervousness.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," Beryl answered with cruel promptness. "Anyway, as long +as you thought about all this you ought to get the credit." Beryl had no +patience with Robin's "blushing-unseen" nature. "It'll be easy, anyway. +You just ought to know how I felt the day Mr. Henri took me to play for +Martini. Why, my knees turned to putty. But then, <i>that</i> was different. +Listen, there comes some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until the +sandwiches are made."</p> + +<p>Dale opened the door and Adam Kraus followed him in. Then, while Robin, +two bright spots of color burning in her cheeks, was showing them the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> +new books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and miserable in their +Sunday best, and she shyly greeted them. When another knock sounded Mrs. +Lynch took the women in charge so that Robin might welcome the +newcomers. They were four of the Mill girls and they crowded into the +room, staring curiously about them and at Robin, whose greeting they +answered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they rushed to him with noisy +banter and laughter that had a shrill edge.</p> + +<p>Robin, left alone and without the courage to join either group, watched +the girls as they gathered about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panic +seized her. She fought against it, she told herself that everything was +going all right and that in a few moments more people would come, and +these girls, who looked at her so rudely from the corners of their eyes, +would forget about her and have a good time. From the kitchen, where +Harkness was presiding, came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryl +and Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on plates as fast as +their quick fingers could make them. Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemed +to be gossiping contentedly at one end of the room but Robin wondered +why they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch now and then glanced +anxiously in her direction; once she heard something about "the Rileys" +and an imploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus and the four girls +were urging Dale to do something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> and Robin saw a big girl with bold +black eyes lay a persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook off +almost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she had the courage to +break into the circle and drag Dale away from her, instead of standing +in such a silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued to the +roof of her mouth.</p> + +<p>And, oh, why <i>didn't</i> more people come? What was the matter?</p> + +<p>After what seemed to Robin an interminable time, though in fact it was +only a few minutes, Adam Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the four +girls. "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth," he said in his easy, soft +voice. "There's an important meeting in the village. You've fixed a nice +little doll house here."</p> + +<p>The girl with the black eyes, standing just back of Adam Kraus' +shoulder, laughed—a scornful laugh.</p> + +<p>"Too bad the Rileys can't move here!"</p> + +<p>The Rileys again! Robin flushed at the girl's laugh and hateful eyes, +tried to answer Adam Kraus and to beg them all to wait until Harkness +brought in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her feet +rooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam Kraus and the girls start +for the little hall and hastily moved in that direction themselves.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> go!" Robin managed to cry, then, moving after them, "Mrs. +Lynch, make them stay.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> Why, I wanted this to be a <i>party</i>, to—to—This +is your House of Laughter! I—" She struggled desperately to recall the +words of the "speech" Beryl had declared perfect and to keep from +breaking down into tears before these hard, staring eyes.</p> + +<p>The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from behind the others, casting +a quick look at Adam Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess you +named this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It <i>is</i> to laugh! But there +ain't many of us that know all poor little Mamie Riley's stood, and +cares about her the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels like +laughing tonight!" She tossed her head as though proud of her courage, +then singled out Dale for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, that +you're too good to come with us! Ma, (turning to a meek-faced woman), +leave the door unlocked. The meeting'll be a long one."</p> + +<p>And just as Mrs. Williams patted down the last sandwich, Mrs. Lynch, +with a shaking hand, closed the door and, turning, faced Dale and Robin.</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the ungrateful creatures!" cried Beryl, who had taken in +the little scene from the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear," begged Mrs. Lynch, frightened +at Robin's stricken face.</p> + +<p>Robin turned her glance around the deserted room as though she simply +could not believe her eyes. It must surely be an awful dream from which +she would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as though to +keep back her own tears of disappointment. "It's a grand time the +kiddies had this day, bless the little hearts of them, and a loving you +like you were some bit of a fairy—the impudence of them—"</p> + +<p>"Who are the Rileys?" demanded Robin, sternly—for she <i>had</i> to know; +the Rileys had spoiled her beautiful plans.</p> + +<p>"Now don't you be a-bothering your bright head with the Rileys or anyone +else—"</p> + +<p>Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still lingered the dark flush +that had crept up over it at the black-eyed girl's taunt.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why Miss Forsyth <i>shouldn't</i> know the reason the Mill +people didn't come tonight. There's a big protest meeting about the +Rileys—it wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told you. Tim +Riley's been laid up for six months and he's just back on half-time and +can't ever do any better, I guess—and he's been ordered out of his +house which means—up the river—"</p> + +<p>"Up—where Granny Castle lives?" broke in Robin, in a queer voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes. And it's hard on Tim's wife and her children—they're just little +things. And he can't go anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife went +herself to Norris and begged for a little time until she heard from an +uncle up in Canada or found some way of earning extra money herself, and +Norris<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all pretty sore and +they called this meeting—"</p> + +<p>"That's where that girl wanted you to go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. And that's why Adam Kraus had to hurry off."</p> + +<p>Robin suddenly clutched at her pocket, her face flaming. "Dale, will you +hurry—down to that meeting—and take them—this?" She held out a thick +roll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. I had saved it +for something else, but, oh, those babies just <i>can't</i> go to that +dreadful place—"</p> + +<p>Dale shook his head and put his hands behind him.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't go at that meeting, Miss Forsyth. The men would see red. +It isn't charity they want—it's justice. They're giving good honest +labor to Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing to pay to +live decently—they just want the chance. And to work decently, too. If +you knew the Rileys you'd know what a proud sort they are—they wouldn't +take your money any more than I would—or mother, here. If your aunt +were home or—if you'd go to Norris—" He considered a moment, frowning. +"The men and girls are so roused up that it'll be only a step to +organizing and all that sort of thing and these Mills have been pretty +free from labor trouble—if only Norris could be made to understand +that. But he's so set and out-of-date—" Dale laughed suddenly, a short, +bitter laugh, "I suppose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> I'm extra sore because he refused to even look +at my model."</p> + +<p>"You all needn't take your spite out on Robin," broke in Beryl, +vehemently.</p> + +<p>"Well—Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all that's happened today, the +Forsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blame +them too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to be +patronized and they look upon—all this—as a sort of—oh, charity."</p> + +<p>Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laid +his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his +mother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if you +begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them—yet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw he +offered.</p> + +<p>"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to—when they get +the idea."</p> + +<p>"But I wanted it to be—my gift."</p> + +<p>"The opportunity for them to have it <i>will</i> be your gift."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a rift in all the clouds.</p> + +<p>"Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And I forgetting it! Let them +pay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring +what's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> folks are +good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feel +and a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit +of fun. It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't grieve your +blessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, there'll be laughter enough in +this house by and by. Mind you what I said once about beginnings had to +come first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. Lynch and amazingly +comforting to Robin.</p> + +<p>She slipped the roll of bank-notes back into the pocket of her dress; +she could not even offer them to Dale, now. "You're dear and patient and +I guess I've been stupid and expected too much. But I shan't make any +more mistakes and I'm going to make the most of my 'beginning'."</p> + +<p>"And now, Dale boy, why not have a bit of Mr. Harkness' good coffee?"</p> + +<p>But, though Beryl and Robin pressed, Dale refused and slipped away and +Robin had a moment's picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl when +she saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remembering the plight of the +Rileys' she was ashamed of herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sitting +around the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while Harkness and +Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped coffee. The fire sputtered and +gleamed cheerfully, and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliant +splash of color in the soft glow of the room.</p> + +<p>"Who was that big girl with the black eyes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> Robin found the courage to +ask Beryl when the whole dreadful evening was over and they were back at +the Manor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle were chums and worked +together. Dale says she's awfully clever but <i>I</i> think she's horrid. The +way she spoke to him tonight."</p> + +<p>Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she hated to think that her Prince +could find this Sophie Mack clever.</p> + +<p>Too tired from the disappointing evening to want to talk, and too wide +awake to dream of going to sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deep +breathing told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. Then she +crept from bed and crouched, a mite of a thing, at the window sill and +stared out into the brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowy +hills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and buildings of the Mills. +Robin recalled that day she had first likened them to a Giant. That day +seemed—so much had happened since and she had grown so much +inside—very long ago and she a silly girl thinking stories about +everything. Her guardian, to amuse her, had talked about finding a Jack +to climb the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled scornfully at +the fancy—so futile in the face of the tremendous misery—and +happiness—that Giant had the power to make!</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2><h3>THE LUCKLESS STOCKING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Two hours after Robin's lonely vigil at the window ended, fire destroyed +the empty cottage "up the river" into which the Rileys had been ordered +to move.</p> + +<p>"I wish it had burned in the daytime when we could have watched it," +Beryl had declared, almost resentfully. But Robin's concern had been for +old Granny Castle and little Susy.</p> + +<p>Harkness, who had brought them the news, reassured her. "Too bad they +couldn't all a' burned but no such luck—only th' one. It's said that +there are some as <i>knows</i> how a' empty house without so much as a crumb +to draw a rat could a' gone up like that did. And Williams says as how +there was men stood around and wouldn't lift a hand to help put out the +blaze though they took care it didn't spread."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mr. Harkness?" broke in Robin.</p> + +<p>"Why, just this, Missy, Williams says that there's a lot of bad feeling +stirrin' and bad feelings lead to hasty things like revenge."</p> + +<p>"You mean some one of the Mill people set it on fire?" asked Beryl +slowly, with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>"And who else'd have bad feelings?"</p> + +<p>Robin recalled, with alarm, what Dale had said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> at the House of +Laughter. Could Dale have done this thing—or helped? Or stood around +and watched it burn? Oh, no, no—not Dale.</p> + +<p>Harkness, seeing her concern, dexterously broke a soft-boiled egg into a +silver egg-cup and said in a carefully casual voice, intended to put the +fire quite out of their minds: "Well, the constable'll find the man what +did it, so don't you worry your head, Missy."</p> + +<p>Robin, her heart heavy with all she wanted to do and couldn't find a way +to do, swallowed a scream at his "Don't you worry your head." Why <i>did</i> +everyone say that to her—just because she was little on the outside? If +<i>she</i> didn't worry her head—who was there to worry?</p> + +<p>It was with a heavy spirit she dressed herself—girded herself, she +called it—for her call upon Mr. Norris at the Mills. The long hours of +Sunday, through which she had to wait, had filled her with misgiving. +Now she looked so absurdly small in the mirror, her tousled hair so +childish, no matter how much she tried to tuck it out of sight under the +little dark blue toque, why would anyone, especially a manager of a +Mill, listen to her?</p> + +<p>Beryl, stirred to sympathy by Robin's daring to face the lion in his +den, told her for the hundredth time just how she had suffered before +that momentous visit to Martini, the orchestra leader, in New York.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, my hands were clammy and my teeth rattled and everything whirled +in front of me and my knees just knocked together, but, say, I gulped +and I said terribly hard to myself, 'You want this thing and you can't +get it if you're all soft inside and a coward', and, Robin, in a +twinkling, something began to grow inside of me and get big and big +until I had courage to do anything! Of course it was different with me +but you'll probably feel just the way I did, all strong inside, when you +face him and get stirred up. Only—I hate to tell you, but I saw you put +your stocking on wrong side out and then change it and <i>that's</i> bad +luck!"</p> + +<p>Robin looked down at the luckless stocking. It looked too absurdly a +trifle to have weight with anything as important as righting the wrongs +of the Rileys.</p> + +<p>Afterward, however, Robin vowed she'd always take great care in her +dressing!</p> + +<p>Frank Norris had been superintendent of the Forsyth Mills for +twenty-five years. Since the death of old Christopher Forsyth he had run +them pretty much as he pleased, for, inasmuch as his accounting was +accurate to the smallest fraction and his profits unfailingly +forthcoming, neither Madame Forsyth nor her financial or legal advisers, +saw fit to interfere with him. For that reason the old man felt +annoyance as well as surprise when Robin broke into the usual routine of +his Monday morning, already disturbed by the mystery of Saturday night's +fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span></p> + +<p>He had duly paid his respects to the little Forsyth heir with a Sunday +afternoon call and had afterward reported to Mrs. Norris that she "was a +little thing, all red hair and eyes." But now, as she stood at one end +of his desk, something in the resolute set of her chin arrested and held +his attention; there <i>was</i> something more—he could not at the moment +say what—to the "little thing" than eyes and red hair.</p> + +<p>Robin swallowed (as Beryl had instructed) and plunged straight into her +errand. Wouldn't he please let the Rileys stay in their cottage for a +little while—until something could be done?</p> + +<p>At the mention of the Rileys the smile he had mustered vanished, and his +bushy eyebrows drew sharply down over his narrow eyes from which angry +little gleams flashed.</p> + +<p>"Who asked you to come to me, Miss Forsyth?"</p> + +<p>Robin's heart went down into her boots. "No one," she answered in a +faint voice. Then, quite suddenly, something in the hard, angry face +opposite her fired that spark within her that Beryl had assured her she +would feel. She felt the "big thing" grow and grow until she stood +straight, quite unafraid, and could go on calmly. "Only I don't +think—and I don't believe my aunt would think—it is quite fair to put +them out of their house when they've had so much trouble. Hasn't Mr. +Riley always been a very good workman? There are lots of things here I +don't think quite right, and when my aunt comes back I'm going to ask +her to change—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span></p> + +<p>"May I interrupt you, Miss Forsyth, to inquire upon what experience you +base your knowledge? For I assume, of course, you would not want to +radically change things here without knowing what you were offering in +their place. I was under the impression that you were quite a youngster +and had lived with your father in a somewhat Bohemian fashion—"</p> + +<p>A deep rose stained Robin's face. She caught the hint of a slur.</p> + +<p>"My father taught me what is honest and fair and kind and cruel and—" +She had to stop to control the trembling in her voice. The man took +advantage of it by breaking in, his voice measured and conciliatory. He +suddenly realized the ridiculousness—and the danger—in quarreling with +even a fifteen-year-old Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, I can readily understand in what light certain +conditions appear to one of your tender years. When you are older you +will understand that an industry such as I am in charge of here, and +conducting, I believe, quite satisfactorily for the Forsyths, has to be +run by the head and not the heart. I dislike immensely having to do such +things as forcing the Rileys to move but you must see it is my duty. If +I make an exception in their case—there will be hundreds like them. As +it happens—" he let a rasp of anger break into his voice—"the cottage +into which they were to move was burned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> down Saturday night. However +that will only delay the enforcing of my order and when the man or men +who set fire to it are caught they will be dealt with—severely. Your +Rileys will enjoy a few days of grace until we can put another into +shape."</p> + +<p>"If they burned it it's because they had to show—us—how they +felt—that the place wasn't fit to live in! Mr. Norris, the Mill people +<i>are</i> nice people; I heard—I heard someone say that this was the only +Mill in all New England where real white folks worked—but they think +we—I mean—the Forsyths—don't care—"</p> + +<p>Norris stood up abruptly. Somehow or another he must end this absurd +interview while he could yet hang on to his temper. Some one of these +miserable agitators—he suspected who it might be—had influenced the +girl, was using her for a tool. He had heard, of course, of the intimacy +between Miss Gordon and the Lynchs.</p> + +<p>"My dear girl—you have no idea how much I would like to go into all +this with you and straighten out the muddle in your head—but, really, I +am a very busy man. Tell me, didn't young Dale Lynch persuade you to +come to me?"</p> + +<p>Robin's lips parted impulsively to deny it—then closed. Dale <i>had</i> +suggested her coming to Norris. Before she could explain, the man went +on, a ring of triumph sharpening his voice.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought so! Now let me tell you why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> he is disgruntled. I would +not look at some contrivance he brought to me which he claims will, when +it is perfected, increase the efficiency of our looms fifty per cent. +He's a bright young fellow but he doesn't know his place, and he's too +chummy with a certain man in these Mills to be healthy for him. However, +I'm looking to our friend the town constable to straighten all that out. +Now, Miss Gordon," with a hand on her shoulder he gently and in a +fatherly manner led her toward the door. "I would suggest, that, without +the advice of your aunt—or your guardian—you do not worry your pretty +little red head over this!" And he bowed her with pleasant courtesy out +of the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh! Oh!" <i>Another</i> one telling her not to worry! She clenched her +teeth that no one in the outer office might see how near she was to +tears. Outside, in a stifled voice, she directed Williams to drive her +back to the Manor, then sat very straight in the car as though those +hateful eyes could pierce the thick walls and gloat over her defeat.</p> + +<p>Halfway to the Manor she remembered suddenly that she had quite ignored +the study hours and that doubtless poor Percival Tubbs was pulling his +Van Dyke to pieces in his rage. Then in turn she forgot the tutor in a +flash of concern for Dale. That beast of a Norris had said something +about Dale being too chummy with a certain man—and the constable! Did +they suspect Adam Kraus and Dale of setting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> fire to the cottage? Oh, +why had she let him think Dale had suggested her interfering for the +Rileys—how stupid she had been! If they arrested Dale and accused him +it would be her own fault. A fine way for her to repay dear, dear Mother +Lynch. What <i>could</i> she do?</p> + +<p>Beryl met her with the warning that Mr. Tubbs was "simply furious"—and +had said something about "standing this vagary about as long as he +could," which did not mean much to Robin, not half so much as Beryl's +own ill-temper, for the tutor had taken the annoyance of Robin's +high-handed absentedness out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl cross +she could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into trouble. She must +meet the situation alone.</p> + +<p>She must warn Dale, first of all. And to do that she must resort to the +distasteful expedient of hanging about in the groceries-and-notions +store until Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as he might +possibly do.</p> + +<p>She found no difficulty in getting away alone, for Beryl, in the sulks, +had buried herself in the deep window-seat of the library. Down in the +store she startled the old storekeeper by an almost wholesale order of +candies and cookies and topped it off by a demand for a pink knitting +wool, which, Robin hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmost +shelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grumbling under his breath, she +hurriedly told him she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> <i>didn't</i> want it and dropped a crisp five dollar +bill on the counter, for the men were pouring down the street and any +moment Dale might come.</p> + +<p>No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad of her fancy, could have +planned things to more of a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurd +purchases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam Kraus walked +along. It was not so much the unusualness of the girl's being there—and +alone, that brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring look in +her wide and serious eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where's Beryl—or that chauffeur?" He took her packages from her.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you. I <i>have</i> to. Will you walk just a little way +home with me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, let's cut through here." For +Dale realized that many curious eyes were staring at them, and not too +kindly. Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truckling" to a +Forsyth, which, just then, was likely to bring contempt upon him.</p> + +<p>Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous picture they made; she in her +warm suit of softest duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his working +clothes, swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other balancing +her knobby packages. All she thought of was that this was Dale, the +Prince who had once befriended her, whose make-believe presence had +often gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> was in danger now; +and he looked down into the little face under its fringe of flame-red +hair and wondered what in the world made it so tragic and why it +strangely haunted him as belonging to some far-off picture in the past.</p> + +<p>Vehemently, because it had been bottled up so long, Robin told him how +afraid she was for him—that Norris had as much as said he suspected him +and Adam Kraus, and that the constable might arrest them any moment and +wouldn't he please—go away—or—or something?</p> + +<p>"He says you're disgruntled 'cause he wouldn't look at your 'toy.' He's +terribly mad about everything—I could see it in his horrid eyes. Oh, I +<i>hate</i> him!" she finished.</p> + +<p>They had left the village and were close to the bend in the road where +stood the House of Laughter. Dale stopped short and threw his head back +with a loud laugh. Robin had wondered in her heart with what courage her +Prince would take the news of his danger but she had not expected this! +However, his laugh softened the lines of his face until it looked boyish +and oh, so much like it had that night long ago when she had been lost.</p> + +<p>"Well, here I am laughing away and forgetting to thank you for wanting +to help me. But you needn't be afraid for me, Miss Robin. There is still +a little justice in the world, in spite of men like Norris, and I can +prove to anyone that I was snug in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> my bed until my mother dragged me +out to go off up to the old village. I can't say I helped fight the +fire—what was the use? Nothing could have saved the old place. And I'd +rather like to shake hands with the man who set it on fire, though it +was sort of a low-down trick. Norris won't house anyone in that +rat-hole."</p> + +<p>An immense relief shone in Robin's face. She knew Dale had not done the +"low-down trick." She wished she had made Norris believe it!</p> + +<p>"About the toy—" Dale went on, soberly. "Maybe in the end it'll be a +good thing for me that Norris turned it down. Adam Kraus has taken it +and he's going to have some little metal contrivances made that it had +to have and then he'll take it to Grangers' and he feels pretty sure +that Granger will buy it. Only I had a sort of feeling that I wanted it +used here—you see these mills gave definite shape to this thing that +has been growing in my head for a long time, just like verses in a +poet's. I went to a technical night school for years, you know, and I +couldn't get enough of the machine shop. One of the teachers in the +school got this job for me here. I'd never been outside of New York +before and I thought this was Heaven, honest."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Norris said you claimed it would—oh, something about efficiency," +Robin floundered.</p> + +<p>Dale nodded. "I not only claim, I know. That little thing of mine +attached to the looms here would revolutionize the whole industry for +the Forsyths.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> You see these Mills are way behind times in their +equipment; with improved looms they could turn out more work, pay better +wages, and give the men better living and working conditions. And +men—the sort they have here—will work better with up-to-date things +around them; gives them an up-to-the-minute respect for their job."</p> + +<p>Robin stamped her foot in one of her impetuous bursts of anger.</p> + +<p>"He ought to be <i>made</i> to buy it!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Dale turned to her and stared at her intently.</p> + +<p>"You're a funny little thing. Why do you care so much?"</p> + +<p>Robin had a wild longing to bring back to his mind that November night, +long ago, when he had found her clinging abjectly to the palings of the +park fence and had taken her home, that she had declared then that he +was her play-prince and that she would hunt for him until she found him! +And, quite by coincidence, she <i>had</i> found him and now she wanted to do +this thing for him and not entirely to help the Forsyth Mills! But if +she told him—and he laughed—her pretty pretend would be all over and, +because it belonged to that happy childhood in the bird-cage with +Jimmie, it was precious and she did not want to lose it—yet.</p> + +<p>So she flushed and answered shyly: "I—don't—know."</p> + +<p>"I'm ever so much obliged, Miss Robin, for your interest and your +worry—over me. It gives a fellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> a jolly feeling of importance to know +that a little girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss Robin, +you've made things tremendously bright for my mother this winter—and +for my father, too. I didn't know whether mother'd be happy here in +Wassumsic after being so busy in New York but it was the only way I +could stop her from working her head off and I'd decided <i>my</i> shoulders +were broad enough to support my family. And you've done a lot for Beryl, +too. I can see it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i>!" cried Robin. As if she could let him thank her for Mother +Lynch—as if the debt were not on her side. They had reached the Manor +gate now and Dale handed her the packages.</p> + +<p>"Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, so don't you be +worrying your little head," he admonished and strangely enough Robin +answered him with a smile. <i>He</i> was different.</p> + +<p>But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's "sulk" had grown, like +the gathering clouds of an impending storm, into a big gloom that did +not lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left alone in the +library with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books. From +over the edge of "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccupation +and shadow on Beryl's face.</p> + +<p>(Oh, why <i>had</i> she changed that inside-out stocking!)</p> + +<p>"Beryl, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span></p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i>. You won't read or talk or—anything."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't feel like it."</p> + +<p>"What <i>do</i> you feel like—inside?" persisted Robin.</p> + +<p>"Like—nothing. <i>Just</i> like it."</p> + +<p>"Beryl, are you discouraged about—your music?"</p> + +<p>Robin put her finger so accurately upon the sore spot that Beryl winced. +Robin added: "You ought not to be—you're wonderful!"</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i>. You think so 'cause you don't know! I can't get something I +used to have. I had it when I played on Christmas night and oh, I felt +as though I'd always have it—it just tingled in my fingers and made my +heart almost burst and then—it went away. I can't rouse it now. I don't +even know—what made it come—inside me. But I do know that I'm as far +away from—what I want, really working and getting ahead—as I ever was. +<i>Further</i>, way off here. At least when I was in New York I had dear old +Jacques Henri to help me!"</p> + +<p>Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an odd feeling as though +Beryl—the first girl friend she had ever had—might be slipping away +from her. "You want to go back to New York?" she asked stupidly.</p> + +<p>"Of course, silly. There isn't anything, here."</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to go. Beryl, you <i>must</i> go. I'm going to give you the +rest of the money—what I saved from the Queen's Christmas gift +and—and—my allowance. Oh, please, Beryl, <i>don't</i> look like that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thanks!" Beryl's voice rang cold. "But I'm not reduced to charity, yet. +Of course I've been kidding myself that I earn all the money you pay me +for living here—with a few clothes thrown in. Don't think I don't know +what those horrid creatures at the Mills say about me being proud and +too stuck-up to work like Dale and the others. They even taunt Dale. I +hate myself when I think of it. And all I'm earning wouldn't keep me +very long—if I ever did go to study. Oh, I just hate—<i>hate</i>—<i>hate</i> +being poor!" Her voice broke in a great sob.</p> + +<p>Robin wanted to throw her arms about her and comfort her but she was +afraid for Beryl looked like a different being. And, while she +hesitated, Beryl flung herself out of the room.</p> + +<p>Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry and perplexity +wrinkling her face. Everything was so stupidly hard; no matter what she +tried or wanted to do—she ran up against a wall of pride. Her poor +little treasured money that she had kept in the heart-shaped box! If she +had had it in her hands then she would have thrown it into the fire.</p> + +<p>Oh, for a chance to do something, give something that could not be +counted—and spurned—in dollars and cents!</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2><h3>GRANNY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Thoroughly exhausted by the nervous strain of the day before Robin slept +late. When she awakened it was to the alarming realization that Beryl +was not with her—her bed was empty, the room deserted, from the +bathroom came no sound of splashing water, with which Beryl usually +emphasized her morning dip.</p> + +<p>The unhappy happenings of the evening just past flashed into Robin's +mind. Beryl had not even said good-night, had pretended to be asleep. +What if she had gone away from the Manor?</p> + +<p>The thought was so upsetting that Robin dressed in frantic haste, paying +careful regard to her stockings, however, and tumbled down the stairs, +almost upsetting Harkness and a tray of breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Where's Beryl?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Miss Beryl's gone, Missy. She got up early and went off directly she +had breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Did she—did she have a bag?" faltered poor Robin.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 'near as I can +remember. Didn't she tell you she was going?"</p> + +<p>"Well—not so early," Robin defended.</p> + +<p>"If it's a quarrel, and young people fall out more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> times 'n not, Missy, +don't you feel badly. Miss Beryl'll be back here, mark my words! She's +smart enough to know when things are soft."</p> + +<p>"Don't you ever, <i>ever</i> say that again, Harkness! Beryl didn't want to +stay here in the first place. She's proud and she's fine and she had +ambitions that are grander than anything the rest of us ever dreamed of. +It's just because it <i>is</i> soft here that she didn't want to stay. She +thought she wasn't really earning anything. I should think—" and oh, +how her voice flayed poor trembling Harkness, "I should think if you +<i>cared</i> anything about me you'd be dreadfully sorry to have me left +alone here—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Missy! Miss Robin! Old Harkness'll go straight down to the village +and bring Miss Beryl—"</p> + +<p>Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm. "I just said that to punish +you. No, I'll be very lonesome here but I will <i>not</i> send for Beryl. +We'll get along someway. If I only were not rich, everything would go +all right, wouldn't it, Mr. Harkness?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't just get your meaning but I will. And I guess so, Missy. +And now what do you say to a bite of breakfast—fetched hot from the +kitchen to your own sunny room?"</p> + +<p>Robin knew she would break the old man's heart if she refused his +service so she climbed back up the stairs to the sunny window of the +deserted sitting-room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And as she +sat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> sitting straight among +the cushions of the chaise longué, staring at her with faded, unblinking +eyes. Beryl had not taken the doll!</p> + +<p>A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. Beryl had <i>wanted</i> to +make her feel badly. But why—oh, what had she done?</p> + +<p>"You can stay there, Cynthia. <i>I</i> won't touch you," she cried, turning +to the window, and at the same time she registered the vow in her heart +that by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl know how her +desertion had hurt her.</p> + +<p>A week of stormy weather, which made the roads almost impassable, helped +Robin. She threw herself into her studies with a determination almost as +upsetting to Percival Tubbs as her former indifference. And when the +studies were over she buried herself in the great divan before the +library fire with books piled about her while Harkness hovered near at +hand, watching her with an anxious eye.</p> + +<p>Robin did not always read the open page. Sometimes, holding it before +her, she let her mind go over word by word what Dale had said to her as +they walked home from the store. It had not been much, to be sure, but +it had been enough to make her feel that her Prince had opened his heart +to her, oh, just a tiny bit. With her blessed powers of imagination and +with what Beryl had told her from time to time concerning him, she could +put everything together into a beautiful picture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span></p> + +<p>Dale was splendid and brave—<i>he</i> had not been afraid of being poor! And +he dreamed, too, like Sir Galahad, but a dream of machinery. And he had +had a beautiful light in his face when he had said that about his +shoulders being broad enough to support his family. Oh, Robin wished she +could see him in a scarlet coat like Sir Galahad wore in the picture.</p> + +<p>The snowstorm abating, Robin sent Williams to the village with a basket +of flowers for Mrs. Lynch and fruit for big Danny, and Williams brought +back a tenderly grateful little note from Mrs. Lynch—but not a word +from Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Everything must be all right or she'd have told me," Robin assured +herself. "Anyway Mr. Norris would be <i>afraid</i> to arrest anyone like +Dale."</p> + +<p>What Robin did <i>not</i> know—for it was not likely to disturb the +Manor—was that something far crueller than Norris was claiming the +anxiety of the Mill workers. A malignant epidemic had lifted its ugly +head and had crept stealthily into several homes, claiming its victims +in more than one. Norris feared an epidemic more than labor trouble; +unless it could be quickly stamped out it gave the Mills a bad name and +made it difficult to get hands. So, at its first appearance he called +the Mill doctor into consultation, and urged him to do everything in his +power to check the advance of the disease.</p> + +<p>The Mill doctor, an overworked man, wanted to tell Norris that it was a +pity that the whole "old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> village" had not gone up in smoke, but he +refrained from doing so; instead spoke optimistically of the weather +being in their favor, and went away.</p> + +<p>On an afternoon three weeks after Beryl's sudden and inexplainable +departure, the drowsy quiet of the old Manor was broken by a shrill +voice lifted in frenzied protest against Harkness' deeper tones. It +brought Percival Tubbs from his nap, Mrs. Budge from the pantry and +Robin from the library. There in the hall stood poor little Susy, her +old cap pushed back from her flaming cheeks, her eyes dark with fright, +struggling to escape from Harkness' tight hold.</p> + +<p>At sight of Robin her voice broke into a strangling sob.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh! <i>Oh!</i>"</p> + +<p>"She won't tell me her errand," explained Harkness, looking like a +guilty schoolboy caught in a bully's act.</p> + +<p>"Harkness, shame on you! Let her go," cried Robin.</p> + +<p>Freed from Harkness' hold Susy ran to Robin and clasped her knees. She +was shaking so violently that she could do nothing more than make funny, +incoherent sounds which were lost in the folds of Robin's skirt.</p> + +<p>"See how you've frightened her! Susy-girl, don't. <i>Don't</i>. You're with +the big girl. Tell me, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Susy pulled at Robin's hand and, still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> sobbing, dragged her +resolutely toward the door. Robin caught something about "Granny."</p> + +<p>"Something dreadful must have happened to frighten her," Robin declared +to the others. "Won't you tell Robin, Susy? Do you want Robin to go with +you to Granny's?"</p> + +<p>At this Susy nodded violently, but when Robin moved to get her wraps she +burst forth in renewed wailing and clung tightly to Robin's hand.</p> + +<p>"Harkness, please get my coat and hat and overshoes. I'm going back with +Susy. Something's happened—"</p> + +<p>"Miss Gordon, indeed, you better not—" implored Harkness.</p> + +<p>"Hurry! Haven't you tormented the poor child enough? Don't stand there +like wood. If you don't get my things <i>at once</i> I'll go bareheaded!"</p> + +<p>Harkness went off muttering and Percival Tubbs advanced a protest which +Robin did not even hear, so concerned was she in soothing poor Susy.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she was hurrying down the winding drive which led to +the village, with difficulty keeping up with Susy, leaving behind in the +great hall of the Manor an annoyed tutor, a worried butler and an +outraged housekeeper.</p> + +<p>More than one on the village street turned to stare at the strange +little couple, Susy, pale with fright, two spots of angry red burning +her cheeks, running as though possessed, and Robin limping after her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> +with amazing speed and utterly indifferent to anyone she met.</p> + +<p>As they neared the old village Susy's pace suddenly slowed down and +Robin took advantage of that to ask her more concerning Granny.</p> + +<p>"Granny's queer and all cold and she won't speak to me, she won't!" Susy +managed to impart between gasps.</p> + +<p>A terrible fear gripped Robin. Perhaps Granny was dead! And her +apprehension was confirmed when a neighbor of the Castles rushed out to +head her off.</p> + +<p>"Don't go in there! Don't go in there!" she cried, waving the shawl she +had caught up to wrap around her head. "They've got the sickness. The +old woman's dead. Tommy's staying at Welch's. My man's reportin' it this +mornin'. Poor old woman, went off easy, I guess, but it's hard on the +kid. Say, Miss, you oughtn' get close to her. It's awful catchin' and +you c'n tell by the look o' her she's got it, too." And the neighbor +edged away from Susy.</p> + +<p>In a sort of stupefied horror Robin looked at the neighbor, the wretched +house and Susy. Susy had begun to cry again, quietly, and to tremble +violently.</p> + +<p>"Susy Castle, you go like a good girl into the house n' stay 'til the +doctor comes and takes you," commanded the woman. "Don' you come near +anyone! Y' got the sickness! See y' shake!"</p> + +<p>"Go <i>'way</i>!" screamed Susy, clinging to Robin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> Robin pulled her fur +from her throat and wrapped it about the shivering, sobbing child.</p> + +<p>"Yer takin' awful chances, miss—just <i>awful</i>," warned the neighbor, +edging backward toward her house with the air of having completed her +duty. "If y' take my advice you'll leave the kid there 'til some'un +comes. They'll likely take her t' the poor-house!" And with this +cheerful assumption she slammed her door.</p> + +<p>"There! There! Robin'll take you home. Don't cry," begged Robin, +kneeling in the path and encircling poor little Susy in her arms. "We'll +go back to the big house and Robin'll make you nice and warm."</p> + +<p>"I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her miserable little world +rocking about her.</p> + +<p>Robin straightened and looked at the house. Granny was dead, the +neighbor had said; nothing more could be done for her. But something in +the desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy window stuffed +with its rags, smote Robin. Poor Granny must have died all alone. No one +had even whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. Robin +knew little of death; to her it had always meant a beautiful passing to +somewhere, with lovely flowers and music and gentle grief. This was +horribly different—there was no one left but little Susy and she was +going to take Susy away at once. Ought she not to just go softly into +that house and do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> <i>something</i>—something kind and courteous that +Granny, somewhere above, might see—and like?</p> + +<p>"Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment." She walked resolutely +around to the door which Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At the +threshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers racing down her +spine, catching her breath, bringing out tiny beads of moisture on her +forehead. She had never seen a dead person—had she the courage?</p> + +<p>She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring straight ahead. In +its centre she stopped and looked slowly, slowly around as though +dragging her gaze to the object she dreaded—across the littered table, +the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots and pans, the dirty +floor, an overturned chair, the smoke-blackened lamp and last—last to +the bed. There, amid the tumbled quilts, lay poor Granny.</p> + +<p>Robin swallowed what she knew was her heart and walked to the bed. +"Granny," she said softly, because she had to say something, then almost +screamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. Strangely enough there +was a smile on the worn, thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robin +thought it had just come—she liked to <i>think</i> it had just come. It gave +her courage. She smoothed the dirty gray covers and folded them neatly +across the still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. Then she +looked about. Her eyes lit on the faded pink flowers that still adorned +the what-not. Moving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> with frightened speed she caught them up and +carefully laid them on Granny's breast.</p> + +<p>"They were beautiful once and so was poor Granny. Good-bye, Granny," she +whispered, moving backward toward the door. Out in the air she leaned +for a moment weakly against the door jamb—then resolutely pulled +herself together, and carefully closed the door behind her.</p> + +<p>Susy stood where she had left her. "Come, Susy, let's hurry," Robin +cried. Catching the child's hand she broke into a run, wondering if she +could get back to the Manor before that dreadful sickening thing inside +of her quite overcame her.</p> + +<p>But at that moment Williams appeared in the automobile, jumped from the +seat and caught Robin just as she started to drop in a little heap to +the ground.</p> + +<p>"Miss Robin!" he cried in alarm.</p> + +<p>The feel of his strong arms and the warmth and shelter of his great coat +sent the life surging back through Robin's veins. She laughed +hysterically.</p> + +<p>"Take us home, quick," she implored. And so concerned was Williams that +he made no protest at lifting Susy into the car.</p> + +<p>Both Harkness and Mrs. Budge, with different feelings, were waiting +Williams' return in the hall of the Manor. Harkness, with real concern, +(he had despatched Williams) and Mrs. Budge with defiance. She had just +announced that she'd stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> about as much as any woman "who'd give her +whole life to the Forsyths ought t' be expected to stand" when Robin +half-carried Susy into the Manor.</p> + +<p>"Harkness, <i>please</i>—Susy's very ill. Will you carry her to my room and +call the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"You'll do no such thing while <i>I</i> stay in this house," announced Mrs. +Budge, stepping forward and placing her bulk between Harkness and Susy. +"Bringing this fever what's in the village to <i>this</i> house! Not if my +name's Hannah Budge. We've had just 'bout as much of these common +carryings-on as I'll stand for with Madame away and—"</p> + +<p>"But, oh, <i>please</i>, Mrs. Budge, Susy's very sick and her grandmother's +just died and she's all alone! Harkness, <i>won't</i> you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Missy, I think Budge—" began Harkness, his eyes imploring.</p> + +<p>Robin stamped her foot.</p> + +<p>"Shame on you all! You're just <i>afraid</i>. Will you call a doctor at +least—one of you? Get out of my way!" And half carrying—half dragging +Susy, Robin staggered to the stairs and slowly up them.</p> + +<p>Poor Robin vaguely remembered Jimmie once commanding Mrs. Ferrari to put +one of her brood into a tub of hot water into which he mixed mustard. So +Robin filled her gleaming tub with hot water and quickly undressed Susy +and put her, wailing, into it. Then she rushed to the pantry, +commandeered a yellow box, fled back and dropped a generous portion<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> of +its contents into the tub. Next she spread a soft woolly blanket on her +bed, wrapped another around the child and rolled her in both until +nothing but the tip of a pink nose showed.</p> + +<p>She found Harkness hovering outside in the hall and ordered him to bring +hot lemonade at once, taking it a few minutes later from him through the +half-open door with a gleam of contempt in her eyes which said plainly +"Coward." She slowly fed Susy, watching the child's face anxiously and +wishing the doctor would come quickly.</p> + +<p>After an interminable time Dr. Brown came, a little shaky, and gray-eyed +and very concerned over his call to the Manor. After a careful +examination he reported to Percival Tubbs and Harkness that the child +was, indeed, desperately ill; that by no means could she be +moved—although it was of course a pity that Miss Forsyth had so +impulsively brought her to the Manor and thus exposed herself; that the +crisis might come within the next twenty-four hours, for evidently the +disease was well advanced before the grandmother succumbed; that he +would telegraph at once for a fresh nurse from New York as the one in +the village was at the breaking point from overwork; and that he, +himself, would come back and stay with the child through the night.</p> + +<p>It was a most dreadful night for everyone in the Manor—except Percival +Tubbs, who had slipped quietly to the station and taken the evening +train<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> to New York. Harkness sat outside of Robin's door, his ear +strained for the slightest sound within. And Mrs. Budge worked far into +the night writing a letter to Cornelius Allendyce, commanding that +gentleman to come to the Manor and see for himself how things were going +and put an end, once and for all, to the whole nonsense—that she'd up +and walk out if it weren't for her loyalty to Madame Forsyth, a loyalty +sadly strained in the last few months. Of course she did not write all +this in just these same words but she made her meaning very clear.</p> + +<p>Behind the closed door Dr. Brown and Robin fought for the little life. +Only once the tired doctor said more than a few words—then it was to +tell Robin that she had shown remarkable judgment in her care of Susy +and that—if the child pulled through—it would be due entirely to her +prompt and thorough action. This little thought helped Robin through the +long hours, when her weary eyelids stuck over her hot, dry eyes and her +head ached. All night she willingly fetched and carried at the doctor's +command, stepping noiselessly, sometimes lingering at the foot of the +bed to watch the little face for a sign of change.</p> + +<p>Far into the morning the vigil lasted. Then Dr. Brown, his face haggard +but his eyes shining, whispered to Robin to go off downstairs and eat a +good breakfast—that Susy was "better."</p> + +<p>"You mean—she'll—get well?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span></p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. "I believe so. She's sleeping now. Go, my dear."</p> + +<p>Robin peeped at the child's face. The deadly pallor and the purple flush +of fever had gone, the lips and eyelids had relaxed into the natural +repose of sleep. She tiptoed into the hall, deserted for the moment, +down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Budge turned as she pushed +open the door.</p> + +<p>"I—I—" The warm, sweet smell of the room sent everything dancing +before Robin's eyes. She reached out her hand as though groping for +support. "Oh, I—" Then she crumpled into Mrs. Budge's arms.</p> + +<p>Now that faithful soul, having sent off her letter to the lawyer-man, +had given herself over to worry, lest once more the "curse" was to visit +the House of Forsyth. Not that it could mean much to Madame, for she +hadn't set eyes on this girl Gordon, but it gave her, Hannah Budge, a +sick feeling "at the pit of her stomach" to think of things going wrong +again! So when Robin just dropped into her arms like a dead little thing +she stood as one stunned, passively awaiting a relentless Fate.</p> + +<p>"Quick—she's fainted. Let me take her! Fetch water," ordered Harkness.</p> + +<p>"Fetch it yourself! I guess I can hold her!" retorted Budge, tightening +her clasp. And as she looked down at Robin she remembered how Robin had +kissed her on Christmas night. Something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> within her that was hard like +rock commenced to soften and soften and grow warm and glow all through +her. Her eyes filled with tears and because both hands were occupied and +she could not wipe them away, she shook her head and two bright drops +rolled down her cheeks into Robin's face. At that moment—even before +Harkness brought his water—Robin stirred and opened her eyes and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh—where am I? Oh—yes. Oh, I'm <i>so</i> hungry!"</p> + +<p>But Budge was certain Robin was desperately ill; under her direction +Harkness carried her to Madame's own room while Mrs. Budge followed with +blankets and a hot water bottle. At noon the nurse arrived from New +York, and that evening the word spread to every corner of Wassumsic that +little Miss Forsyth had the "sickness."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2><h3>ROBIN'S BEGINNING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Robin had done something that couldn't be counted—or spurned—in +dollars and cents.</p> + +<p>From door to door in the village the story spread; how Robin had gone +into the stricken cottage which even the neighbors shunned, and had +performed a last little act (and the only one) of respect for poor old +Granny, then, with her own fur around the child's neck, had taken Susy +back to the Manor. The doctor told of Robin's sensible care and how ably +she had shared with him the night's long vigil. The story was told and +re-told with little embellishments and often tears; the girls in the +Mill repeated each detail of it over their lunches, the men talked about +it in low tones as they walked homeward.</p> + +<p>And Robin's little service had a remarkable effect upon the Mill people. +Tongues that had been most bitter against the House of Forsyth suddenly +wagged loudest in Robin's praise; some boldly foretold the beginning of +a "better day." All felt the stirring of a certain, all-promising belief +that a Forsyth, even though a small one—"cared."</p> + +<p>But what was to be the cost, they asked one another, with anxious faces?</p> + +<p>Upon hearing that Robin herself was ill, Beryl had rushed to the Manor, +in an agony of fear. Robin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> mustn't be sick—she couldn't die! It was +too dreadful—She ought never to have gone into Granny Castle's +house—or touched Susy.</p> + +<p>Among the books Robin loved so well Beryl waited in a dumb misery for +hours, for some word. Harkness only shook his old head at her and Mrs. +Budge ignored her. Finally, standing the suspense as long as she could +she crept to the stairs and up them and in the hall above encountered a +cherry-faced white-garbed young woman.</p> + +<p>"May I see Robin, please?" she implored desperately.</p> + +<p>The young woman looked at her, hesitating. "Are you Beryl?" she asked. +Beryl nodded. "Then you may go in for a few moments but don't let that +old man and woman know—they've been hounding me to let them see her and +I've refused flatly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you so much. There's something I have to tell Robin before—" +Beryl simply could not say it. She closed her lips with tragic meaning.</p> + +<p>The nurse stared at her a moment with a hint of a laugh in her eyes, +then nodded toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Second door, there. Only a minute!" And then she went on.</p> + +<p>Beryl opened the door, softly, her heart pounding against her ribs. What +if Robin were too ill to talk, to even listen—</p> + +<p>Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It took a moment for her to +single out the great canopied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> bed from the other mammoth +furnishings—or to take in the small figure that occupied the exact +centre of that bed.</p> + +<p>"Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in amazement for the little +creature who smiled at her from a pile of soft pillows looked like +anything but a sick person; the vivid hair glowed with more aliveness +than ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, tinted the creamy +skin. A tray remained on a low table by the bed, its piled dishes +indicative of a feast. Beryl's amazed eyes flashed last to these then +back to Robin's smiling face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Beryl, I'm so glad, <i>glad</i> you came!" Robin reached out her arms +and Beryl rushed into them, clasping her own close about Robin.</p> + +<p>"I—I thought you were dreadfully sick," she gasped, at last. She drew +back and looked at Robin accusingly. "<i>Everyone</i> thinks you're +dreadfully sick."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I ought to be," laughed Robin, "I'm not, though, I never +felt better in my life. But, oh, right after I knew Susy would get well +everything inside of me seemed to break into little pieces. Then that +nice Miss Sanford came and put me to bed and nursed and petted and fed +me and—here I am. She says I cannot get up until tomorrow. I'm so +anxious to see Susy!"</p> + +<p>Beryl, still holding Robin's hand, stared off into space, uncomfortably. +She had come to the Manor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> to tell Robin (before Robin should die) that +she had been a mean, selfish, ungrateful thing to run away from the +Manor the way she had done and stay away—and to beg for Robin's +forgiveness. Now she found it difficult to say all this to a pinky, +glowing Robin, and Robin, instinctively guessing what was passing in +Beryl's mind, made her plea for forgiveness unnecessary by asking, with +a tight squeeze of Beryl's hand: "You won't go away, again?"</p> + +<p>"No—at least—if you want me—if—" she stumbled.</p> + +<p>"<i>If</i> I want you—Beryl Lynch! It was too dreadful living here all alone +with only Mr. Tubbs and Harkness and Mrs. Budge. But, Beryl, I think +maybe everything will be different now; the first thing I knew after I +fainted was that Mrs. Budge was crying! Think of it, Beryl, +<i>crying</i>—and over me! And Mr. Tubbs ran away."</p> + +<p>"Really, truly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—the poor thing was scared silly. He didn't tell a soul he was +going and after he reached New York he telephoned."</p> + +<p>"Dale says everyone at the Mills is talking about you, Robin—and what +you did."</p> + +<p>"Why," Robin's face sobered, "I didn't do—anything."</p> + +<p>"Well, Dale says your going in to poor old Granny the way you did has +made everyone like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> you. And they were getting awfully worked up against +the Forsyths and the Mills. I will admit it seems funny to me—making +such a fuss over such a little thing. I wish—as long as you're all +right now—you had done something real heroic, like jumping into the +river to save someone or going into a burning building."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd have never had the courage to do <i>that</i>," protested Robin, +shuddering.</p> + +<p>At that moment the nurse put her head in the door.</p> + +<p>"Three minutes are up," she warned.</p> + +<p>"Please, can't she stay?" begged Robin, in alarm.</p> + +<p>"I must go home, anyway, Robin, to tell mother. You have no idea how +anxious she is—everyone is. People hang around our door. I suppose they +think we have the latest news about you. Well, we have, now. And, +Robin—mother was awfully angry about my—leaving you the way I did. She +begged me to come back, long ago. I'm sorry, now, I didn't. Good-bye, +Robin. I'll be back, tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Beryl walked to the village in a deep absorption of thought. Certain +values she had fostered had tumbled about and had to be put in order. +Here were not only hundreds of mill folk making a "fuss" over what Robin +had done, but the household of the Manor as well—old Budge, usually as +adamant as a brick wall, crying! No one loved the heroic more than +Beryl, but to her thinking it lay in a spectacular, and with a dramatic +indifference, risking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> one's own life for another, not in a little +unnecessary sentimental impulse. When she had heard of what Robin had +done she had declared her "crazy" to go near the Castles, to which her +mother had indignantly replied: "And are you thinking the blessed child +ever thinks of herself at all?" <i>That</i> was the quality, of course, about +Robin that you never guessed from anything she said but that you just +felt. And the Mill people were feeling it now.</p> + +<p>Turning these thoughts over and over, Beryl suddenly faced the +disturbing conviction that she was moulding her own young life on very +opposite lines. Tell herself as often as she liked—and it was +often—that she'd had to fight to get everything she had and to keep it, +she knew that it never crossed her mind to ask herself what she was +giving—to Dale, who carried a double burden, to poor big Danny, to her +brave little mother who had sheltered her so valiantly from the +coarsening things about her that she might keep "fine" and have "fine" +things.</p> + +<p>The next day the nurse let Robin dress, to poor Harkness' tearful +delight. And Robin, roaming the house as though she had returned to it +from a long absence, found, indeed, the change she had prophesied. For +Mrs. Budge, in strangely genial mood, was fussily preparing more +delectable invalid dishes than a dozen convalescing Susies or well +Robins could possibly eat.</p> + +<p>One little cloud, however, shadowed Budge's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> relief. She wished she +hadn't sent the letter to the lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how my +grandmother always said to look out for the written word, and held my +tongue," she mourned and so complete was her transformation that she +forgot she had written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty to +the Forsyths—as she had seen it then.</p> + +<p>Upon this new order of things Cornelius Allendyce arrived, unheralded, +and very tired from a long journey. Budge's letter had been forwarded to +him at Miami where he had been pleasantly recuperating from his siege of +sciatica. It had disturbed him tremendously, and he had spent the long +hours on the railroad train upbraiding himself for his neglect of his +ward. The conditions at which Budge had clumsily hinted grew more +serious as he thought of them, until he found himself wondering if +perhaps he ought not to smuggle his little ward back to her fifth-floor +home before Madame discovered the havoc she had made of the Forsyth +traditions.</p> + +<p>Outwardly, the Manor appeared the same, to the lawyer's intense relief. +Within, the most startling change seemed the laughing voices that +floated out to him from the library. Harkness took his coat and hat and +bag a little excitedly and with repeated nods toward the library.</p> + +<p>"Miss Robin'll be mighty glad to see you, I'm sure; but she has a lydy +guest for dinner."</p> + +<p>"The man actually acts as though I had no right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> to come unannounced," +thought Cornelius Allendyce.</p> + +<p>Robin met him with a rush and a glad little cry. "I thought you were +never, <i>never</i> coming! I'm so glad. But why didn't you send us word? I +want you to know Beryl's mother and Beryl. They're my best friends. And, +oh, I have <i>so</i> much to tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lynch!" A line of Budge's letter flashed across the man's mind, +yet he found himself talking to a gentle-faced woman with grave eyes and +a tender, merry mouth. And Beryl (whom Budge had called "that young +person") did not seem at all coarse or unwholesome. He did not notice +that the clothes both wore were simple and inexpensive—he only +registered the impression that the mother seemed quiet and refined and +the girl had a frank honesty in her face that was most pleasing.</p> + +<p>Robin, indeed, had so much to tell him that he made no effort to get +"head or tail" to it; rather he lost himself in wonder at the change in +his little ward. This spirited, assured young person could not be the +same little thing he had left months ago. She'd actually grown, too.</p> + +<p>He laughed at Robin's description of the desertion of Percival Tubbs.</p> + +<p>"Poor man, I guess I'd driven him crazy, anyway. I simply couldn't learn +the lessons he gave me. But, oh, I haven't wasted my time, truly, for +I've gotten more out of these precious books here than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> I ever got out +of school. Guardian dear, <i>they've</i> made me grow. I don't think my +pretend stories any more, either. I can't seem to, for everything about +me is so real and so big and so—so important." Robin imparted this +information with a serious note in her voice—as though she feared her +guardian might be sorry that she had put her childish "pretends" behind +her.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," he said, "then we won't know whether you meet the Prince in +the last chapter and live happily ever after? You <i>have</i> grown up; I +can't get used to it."</p> + +<p>Robin blushed furiously at this and changed the subject lest her +guardian could glimpse under her flaming hair and guess the one pretty +"pretend" she still cherished.</p> + +<p>While the girls were upstairs Mrs. Lynch told Cornelius Allendyce the +story of Susy, and Robin's visit to the old house. She told it simply +but in its every detail so that Robin's guardian could follow it very +closely. He listened, with his eyes dropped to the rug at his feet, and +for a few moments he kept them there, so that Mrs. Lynch wondered if he +were angry. Then suddenly he looked at her and a smile broke over his +face.</p> + +<p>"Our little girl's letting down a few barriers, isn't she?" he asked, +and Mrs. Lynch, understanding him with her quick instinct, nodded with +bright eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, 'tis true as true what my old Father Murphy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> once said to me—that +wealth is what you give, not what you get!"</p> + +<p>The most amazing thing to the lawyer in the new order was the cheerful +importance, and the new geniality of Hannah Budge. Accustomed as he was, +from long acquaintance with the family, to her sour nature, he caught +himself watching her now in a sort of unbelief. He understood her +attentiveness to his comfort when she touched his arm and begged a word +with him.</p> + +<p>"It's about that letter," she whispered, her eyes rolling around for any +possible eavesdropper. "I'll ask you not to tell Miss Gordon nor Timothy +Harkness. I'm old and new ways are new ways but I'll serve Miss Gordon +as I've always served the Forsyths."</p> + +<p>A dignity in the old housekeeper's surrender touched Cornelius +Allendyce. He patted her shoulder and told her not to worry about the +letter; to be sure it had spoiled a rather nice golf match but he ought +to have run up to Wassumsic long before.</p> + +<p>"The little girl I found isn't such a bad Forsyth, after all?" he could +not resist asking her, however. But Harkness, appearing at that moment, +spared Mrs. Budge the unaccustomed humiliation of admitting she had been +wrong.</p> + +<p>After dinner Robin persuaded her guardian to walk with them to the +village while they escorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> "Mother Lynch" home, and then stop at the +House of Laughter. There, Beryl lighted the lamps and Robin led a tour +of inspection through the rooms, telling her guardian as they went, of +her beautiful plans and their failure. At a warning sign from Beryl she +regretfully left out the generous contribution of their mysterious Queen +of Altruria. Most of the furniture, she explained, had come from the +Manor garrets.</p> + +<p>While they were talking a knock sounded at the door. Robin opened it to +find Sophie Mack and three companions standing on the threshold.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lynch said she thought you were up here," Sophie explained, +awkwardly. "We're getting up a social club and we want to know if you'll +let us meet here."</p> + +<p>"Of course you can meet here!" Robin made no effort to control the +surprise in her voice. "That's what this little house is for."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you'll join, sometime. As an honorary member or something like +that—" one of Sophie's companions broke in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'd love to."</p> + +<p>"We want to pay, you know," persisted Sophie.</p> + +<p>"Of course—anything you—think you can."</p> + +<p>The girls, refusing Robin's invitation to go into the cottage, turned +and went back to the village. Robin closed the door and leaned against +it with a long-drawn breath of delight.</p> + +<p>"Guardian dear, <i>that's</i> the beginning. Dale's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> right—they'll use it, +if I let them pay. Why are you laughing at me?"</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce's face sobered. He drew the girl to him.</p> + +<p>"I'm not laughing. I'm only marvelling at the leaps and bounds with +which your education has gone forward. Some people die at an old age +without acquiring one smallest part of the human understanding you are +learning through these—notions—of yours."</p> + +<p>Robin made a little face. "Notions! Beryl calls them 'crazy ideas.' +<i>Someone else</i> called them an 'experiment.' Dear Mother Lynch is the +<i>only</i> one who really believes in what I want to do. You see, I just +want the people here to think that a Forsyth cares whether they're happy +or not. Dale says I didn't start right and maybe I didn't—but +anyway—"—She nodded toward the door as though Sophie might still be on +the threshold, "<i>they're</i> a beginning!"</p> + +<p>Her guardian did not answer this and looked so strange that Robin went +no further in her confidences. Perhaps something had displeased him, she +must wait until some other time to tell him about Dale and his model and +her visit to Frank Norris.</p> + +<p>Back in the library, before the crackling fire, Robin begged Beryl to +play for her guardian.</p> + +<p>"She's wonderful," she whispered while Beryl was getting the violin. +"She makes you feel all funny inside."</p> + +<p>Beryl stood in the shadow and played. Robin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> watching her guardian, +thrilled with satisfaction when the man's face betrayed that he, too, +felt "all funny inside" under the magic of Beryl's bow.</p> + +<p>"Come here, my girl," he commanded when Beryl stopped. He bent a +searching look upon her. "Come here and sit down and tell me about +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out Beryl's story—of the simple +home in the tenement from which her mother shut out all that was +coarsening and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her tastes with +dreams she persistently cherished against disheartening odds; of the +Belgian musician who had first taught her small fingers and fired her +ambitions for only the best in the art; of school and the lessons she +devoured because she craved knowledge and the advantages of possessing +it.</p> + +<p>"How long have you lived here?"</p> + +<p>"We came last summer. Dale wanted to work where there were machines and +he got a job in the Forsyth Mills."</p> + +<p>"You are planning to go back to New York and study?"</p> + +<p>Beryl's face clouded. "Sometime. But I can't until I earn the money, and +it takes such a lot."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and courage, too," added the lawyer softly, as though he were +speaking to himself.</p> + +<p>Beryl abruptly lifted her violin from her lap to put it in the case. As +she did so, its head caught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> in the string of green beads which, in +honor of the occasion, she was wearing. The slender cord that held them +snapped and the pretty beads scattered over the floor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" cried Beryl, dismayed, dropping to her knees to find them.</p> + +<p>Robin helped her search and in a few moments they had gathered them all.</p> + +<p>"They're only beads but they're very old and a keepsake," Beryl +explained, in apology for her moment's alarm.</p> + +<p>"They're pretty and they're darling on you!"</p> + +<p>"A wonderful color." The lawyer took one and examined it. "If you care +for them you'd better let me take them back to New York with me and have +them strung on a wire that will not break."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let him, Beryl. And he can have a good clasp put on. You know you +said that clasp was poor."</p> + +<p>Beryl hesitated a moment. Ought she to tell him the beads were her +mother's and that her mother prized them dearly? No, he might laugh at +anyone's caring a fig about just plain beads. She took the envelope +Robin brought her, dropped the beads into it, sealed it, and gave it to +Robin's guardian.</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce slept little that night. He laid it to the extreme +quiet of the hills; in reality his head whirled with the amazing +impressions that had been forced upon him.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary!" he muttered, staring at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> night light. And he +repeated it again and again; once, when he thought of the little woman, +Mrs. Lynch, with the dreaming eyes which seemed to see beyond things. +What was the absurd thing she had said? "'Tis what you give and not what +you get is wealth." Extraordinary! And where had Robin picked up these +notions concerning the Mill people? And her House of +What-did-she-call-it? There was considerable significance about it. +Uncanny, downright uncanny, though, for a girl her age to have such a +far-reaching vision. Probably the child didn't realize, herself. Well, +there was Jeanne d'Arc, and others, too, he pondered, hazily. And this +talented girl Robin had found—a most unusual girl, who'd grown up in a +tenement like a flower among weeds, yes, he'd seen such flowers growing +amid rankest vegetation! She was not unlike Robin, herself. His mind +circled to Robin's own little fifth-floor nest and the horrible odors of +that dark stairway. Strange, extraordinary, that these two lives had +crossed. "This world's a queer world!" Both girls brought up in a +poverty that denied them all those jolly sort of advantages young girls +liked, and yet each sheltered by a mother's great love from the things +in poverty that coarsen and hurt. "Aye, a mother's love," and the little +lawyer thought of "Mother Lynch" with something very akin to reverence; +and of Jimmie, too, poor Jimmie, who, in his stumbling, mistaken way, +had tried to give a mother's love to Robin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span></p> + +<p>But suddenly the man aroused from his absorbed philosophizing and sat +bolt upright in bed. All right to think about letting down +barriers—whose barriers were they? Proud old Madame loved those +barriers—and she'd never accept, as Budge had, what Budge called the +"new ways." What then? "There'll be a reckoning—"</p> + +<p>With a sharp little exclamation of annoyance the distraught guardian +drew his watch from under his pillow and held it to the tiny shaft of +light. "Half-past-one!" Well, he did not need to cross that bridge until +he came to it! He dug his tired head into his pillow and went to sleep +to dream of Madame Forsyth and Robin and Jeanne d'Arc sitting in a +social club at the House of Laughter.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2><h3>AT THE GRANGER MILLS</h3> +</div> + +<p>"I really think, little Miss Robin, that you ought to go."</p> + +<p>"Why, I should think you'd be <i>crazy</i> to go!"</p> + +<p>"If I may be so bold's to remind you, the man is waiting for an answer."</p> + +<p>Robin looked from her guardian's face to Beryl's to Harkness'.</p> + +<p>"You're all conspiring against me, I do believe!" she cried. "I'll go if +you say I ought to, but I just hate to. I don't want to meet the young +people, there. And I'm dreadfully afraid of Mrs. Granger since Susy +spoiled her dress."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Granger was one of your Aunt Mathilde's closest friends—until the +death of young Christopher. Then, in the strange mood your aunt +encouraged, she let the intimacy drop. I've often wondered if the +Grangers did not resent that. You have an opportunity now, Robin, to +restore the old terms between the two families, so that when your—aunt +returns she will find the old tie awaiting her."</p> + +<p>Robin stared, wide-eyed, at her guardian. It was the first time he had +spoken of her aunt's return.</p> + +<p>"When is my aunt coming back? Do you know I never <i>think</i> of her coming +back? Isn't that dreadful? I know she won't like me—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't let's worry about that now," broke in Cornelius Allendyce with +suspicious haste. And Harkness, standing stiffly by the table, waiting +instructions, fell suddenly to rearranging the books and magazines which +had been in perfect order.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Granger's chauffeur had brought a note to the Manor asking Robin to +make them a few days' visit during the coming week. "My son and daughter +have some young people here and you will find it a lively change from +the quiet of your aunt's."</p> + +<p>Robin used her last argument. "But you've only been here for a few days, +guardian dear. And there's a <i>lot</i> more I want to tell you—oh, that's +very important."</p> + +<p>"Can't it wait until I come again? I'd have to go back to New York +tomorrow, my dear, anyway. Come, this little visit of yours is as +necessary to your education as a Forsyth as any of Mr. Tubbs' tiresome +lessons. And then, as I said, you can win back my lady Granger's +affection."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll go," cried Robin, in such a miserable voice that Beryl gave +her a little shake.</p> + +<p>Beryl saw in the visit all kinds of adventure. First, Robin must keep +her eyes open and determine whether Miss Alicia Granger still mourned +for young Christopher or whether she was faithless to his memory. Then +there'd be the young people, probably from New York, with all kinds of +new clothes and new slang and new stories of that happy whirl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> in which +Beryl fancied all young people of wealth lived. And then there was the +son, Tom. And Robin could wear the white and silver georgette dress.</p> + +<p>"I wish it were you going instead of me," Robin mourned, not at all +encouraged by Beryl's enthusiasm. "You're so tall and pretty, Beryl, and +can always think of things to say."</p> + +<p>There shone, however, one bright ray in all the gloom—the Granger home, +Harkness had said, was only a mile from the Granger Mills. Adam Kraus +and Dale had spoken of the Granger Mills as though they were almost +perfect. She wanted to see them, at least, on the outside.</p> + +<p>With a heart so heavy that she scarcely noticed the sheen of soft green +with which the early spring had dressed the hills, Robin arrived at +Wyckham, the Granger home, at tea time. She was only conscious of a +wide, low door, level with the bricked terrace, flanked by stone seats; +that this door opened and revealed a circle of merry-voiced young people +gathered around a great fireplace. As the impressive under-butler took +her bags from Williams one of the group rose quickly and came toward +her. She was very tall and slender with an oval-shaped face and a +prominent nose like Mrs. Granger's. Robin knew she was Miss Alicia. She +answered something unintelligible to Miss Alicia's informal greeting and +let herself be drawn into the circle.</p> + +<p>There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> from sixteen to +twenty—three very pretty, obviously conscious of their modish garments +and wanting everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, Rosalyn +Crane, tall and tanned and strong in limb and shoulder, with frank dark +eyes and red lips which smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-white +teeth. Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and promptly +tucked Robin under her wing.</p> + +<p>For the next several hours life moved forward for Robin at such a +dizzying pace that she felt as though she were sitting apart from her +body and watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had never dreamed +of doing before; the noisy tea-circle, the room she shared with the nice +girl, the casual welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silver +dress and the silver slippers that matched, the beautiful drawing room +so alive with color and jollity, the long table gleaming with crystal +and silver, the voices, voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shoulders +and the bright eyes and the red, red cheeks, the Japanese servants, +velvet-footed, the big, hot-house strawberries, music and dancing, +(everyone dancing but her) and then, at last, bed.</p> + +<p>Out of the whirl stood two pleasant moments: one when Mr. Granger had +spoken to her, the other—Tom.</p> + +<p>Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed with fine lines that +curved up when he smiled. He patted her on the shoulder and said: "A +Forsyth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. And she was +not afraid of him and answered easily and not in the tongue-tied way she +spoke to Miss Alicia and her friends.</p> + +<p>And Tom Granger looked like his father. He had a jolly way of talking, +too, and talked mostly to Rosalyn Crane. He had sat between her and +Robin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite comfortable by acting as +though they were old acquaintances and did not need to keep up a fire of +banter like the others.</p> + +<p>The next morning Robin came downstairs to find the house deserted except +for the noiseless butlers who stared at her as though she were some +strange freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for Tom, coming in +from the garage, greeted her with a pleasant: "Say, you're an early +bird, aren't you?" and then directed one of the butlers to bring her +some breakfast in the sun-room.</p> + +<p>"<i>You've</i> got some sense. Al's crowd will miss half of this glorious +day!" he commented, leading Robin into a glass-enclosed room, in the +centre of which splashed a jolly fountain.</p> + +<p>Tom sat with her while she ate the breakfast the Jap brought on a +lacquered tray. He kept up a fire of breezy talk just as though she were +the nice Rosalyn Crane. It was mostly about the baseball nine at +Hotchkiss, of which he was manager, and the new golf holes and an +inter-school swimming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> match and such things, concerning which poor +Robin knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that Robin did not +feel in the least shy or awkward.</p> + +<p>"Say, don't you want to go with me while I try out my new car? The road +toward Cornwall is good and I've bet that I can get her up to sixty. +Great morning, too. Are you game?"</p> + +<p>Robin felt game for anything that would take her away from Miss Alicia's +friends—except Rosalyn. Tom took her back to the garage and tucked her +into half of the low seat and climbed in beside her.</p> + +<p>For the next two hours they tore back and forth over the Cornwall road +at a pace that caught Robin's breath in her throat. Occasionally Tom +talked, but most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes on the +road ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, as though the innocent +stretch of macadam was prey for his vengeance.</p> + +<p>Just outside of the town he slowed the car down to a snail's pace.</p> + +<p>"Some baby, isn't she?" he asked and at Robin's perplexed eyes he went +off into rollicking laughter. "Why she <i>eats</i> the road! Dad said I +couldn't get it out of her. I'll tell the world. Whew!"</p> + +<p>Robin sat forward, suddenly alert.</p> + +<p>"Are those the Mills?"</p> + +<p>"Yep."</p> + +<p>They were not so very unlike the Forsyth Mills—brick walls, dust, dirt, +smoke, towering chimneys,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> and noise, noise. But beyond them and the +river were rows of neat little white cottages, each with a yard, already +green.</p> + +<p>"Best mills in New England. But Dad's prouder of his model village—as +Mother calls those cottages over there—than of his profit sheet. And +look at the school—Dad wanted a school good enough for his own son and +daughter, but Mother wouldn't let us go. I wish she had—I'll bet +there's enough good batting material right in this town to whip every +nine in this part of the country. There's Dad's library, too—"</p> + +<p>But Robin did not heed the direction of his nod. She had suddenly seen +something that made her heart leap into her throat; Adam Kraus walking +into the office building carrying the square box with the leather +handles, which she knew contained Dale's model. He was taking it to Mr. +Granger.</p> + +<p>A panic gripped Robin. She must do something to save that model for the +Forsyth Mills—she did not know just what, but <i>something</i>—</p> + +<p>"Stop, oh, stop. Couldn't I see your—father? I'd <i>like</i> to."</p> + +<p>Tom looked puzzled, but good-naturedly turned the car. Robin climbed out +with amazing speed.</p> + +<p>"Take me to his office, oh, <i>please</i> take me," she begged, with such +earnestness that Tom wondered if she'd gone "clean dotty."</p> + +<p>Inside the office building there was no sign of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> Adam Kraus, for the +reason, though Robin did not know it, that it was his second visit; he +was there by appointment, and he had used a stairway that led directly +to Mr. Granger's office, while Tom took Robin through the main office +where a neatly dressed girl blocked their way.</p> + +<p>Mr. Granger was busy but the young lady could wait, this efficient young +person informed them, quite indifferent to the fact that she addressed +Thomas Granger and Gordon Forsyth. And Robin walked into an enclosure, +half consulting room, half waiting room, and sat down with fast beating +heart, upon a leather and mahogany chair.</p> + +<p>"I'll wait out here 'til you see Dad," Tom told her, to her relief, and +she heard him telling one of the clerks how his "baby" could make sixty +as easy—</p> + +<p>Suddenly Robin took in other voices, one deep, one soft and drawling. A +door at the end of the room stood half-open. She leaned toward it, +alertly listening.</p> + +<p>"And you say this invention is your own, Kraus? Have you your patents?"</p> + +<p>"My applications have all gone in and I have some of the patents. Yes, +sir, it's my own."</p> + +<p>"Doran reported very favorably. With one or two changes—suppose we find +Doran, now." There came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, the +model will be quite safe here. I want Doran to point out one or two +things on our new loom. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> will only take a moment. Then we'll bring +him back here."</p> + +<p>Oh, would they come out through the waiting-room—thought Robin, +shrinking back. And what had Adam Kraus said?</p> + +<p>But Mr. Granger had opened another door—Robin heard it close. She +stepped noiselessly toward that half-open door at the end of the room. +Her head was clear, her heart atingle.</p> + +<p>He, Adam Kraus, had <i>dared</i> to say the invention was his! The wicked +man, the traitor—to betray Dale's trust, his friendship!</p> + +<p>The office was quite empty. And on the big desk, amid a litter of papers +and letters and books and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsy +box.</p> + +<p>Robin caught it up and held it close to her, defiantly. She snatched a +pencil and scrawled a few lines on the back of an envelope, then she +tiptoed out into the consulting office and on through the main office. +Tom was waiting at the end of the room. It seemed to Robin as though +hundreds of eyes accused her; in reality only a few lifted from the work +of the day to stare at the young girl Tom Granger had brought to see his +father. And if anyone wondered why she carried the queer box, no one of +them was likely to presume to question any friend of the Grangers.</p> + +<p>"Did y'see Dad?" But Tom, to Robin's relief,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> took that for granted and +turned back to his acquaintance among the clerks.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you out with me and <i>prove</i> it to you!"</p> + +<p>Robin wanted to beg Tom to run but she did not dare. He asked to carry +the box and she let him, for fear, if she refused, he might suspect +something. Queer shivers raced up and down her spine and a dreadful +sinking feeling attacked her heart and dragged at her throat so that she +could scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>He helped her into the car and climbed in himself. He leisurely +experimented with the gears, until Robin almost screamed in her anxiety. +Then just as he started the motor, a shout hailed them from the office +door, and both turned to see Adam Kraus tearing down the steps +bareheaded, wildly waving his arms, followed by a half-dozen clerks and +Mr. Granger, himself.</p> + +<p>"Go! <i>Go!</i>" implored Robin, catching his arm, and so frightened rang her +voice that Tom instinctively obeyed and stepped on the accelerator with +such force that the car shot forward. "Oh, <i>faster! Faster!</i>" she +sobbed. "<i>He's coming.</i>" A backward glance had told her that Adam Kraus +intended to give chase; still bareheaded, he had jumped into a Ford +standing in the road.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know what we're running away from, but my baby can give +anything on wheels a good go-by!" laughed Tom, his eyes keen. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> leaned +over the wheel, his face fixed on the road with its "eat-her-up" +tensity.</p> + +<p>They turned into the Cornwall road. At a rise Robin saw the other car +with its bareheaded driver tearing after them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's coming," she moaned, sinking down into the seat.</p> + +<p>"Say, Miss Forsyth——I'm keen——on—running——away—but +what—the—deuce—from? Who's that——fellow——following—us——why are +you——afraid?" He flung the words jerkily, sideways, at Robin.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you—afterwards," Robin gasped back. The wind whistled past +her, she lost her hat. She crouched in her seat, her hands clinging +tightly to the box, her head turned as though expecting their pursuer to +overtake them any moment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tom frowned. At the same time the engine gave a grating +"b-r-r-r."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oil's getting low——Bad——" she caught in answer. "Pulling +some——I'll——fool him, though—" He slowed down.</p> + +<p>"Don't—" implored Robin.</p> + +<p>"We'll turn down this road. <i>He'll</i> go straight on. Clever, eh? Say, I +wouldn't have guessed you had all this spunk in you!" he took the time +to say, casting her an admiring glance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span></p> + +<p>He made the turn and the "baby" ploughed through the soft rough road at +a perilous clip. The road wound through thickly wooded hills, up and +down, apparently leading to nowhere.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it twisted up a long hill. Tom's car climbed easily, slackening +its speed for a few moments at the top. Turning, Robin could make out +the course over which they had come and, to her horror, the little car +plunging over it.</p> + +<p>"Look—<i>look!</i>" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be—blowed!" Tom Granger stared as though he could not +believe his eyes. "He saw the marks of my new tires, I guess. He's a +sharp one. Cheer up—we're not caught yet." He increased the speed; they +tore down the slope in breakneck haste.</p> + +<p>But, in the hollow, the car slopped out of the muddy ruts, gave a +sickening lurch sidewise and dropped with a jolt into mud to the axles.</p> + +<p>His face white with excitement Tom Granger tore at the gears, tried to +go back, to go forward, but in vain. And, presently, they both heard the +distant throb of a motor.</p> + +<p>Robin jumped down from the car, hugging her box. "I'll run. Good-bye, +Tom, thank you <i>so</i> much!" She was far too excited to realize the +familiar way in which she had addressed him. She had cleared the ditch +and stood on the fringe of the deep woods.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll tell you sometime—about it!" she flung to him. +"I'm—not—stealing! That man—will know—" and she disappeared among +the leafing undergrowth.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll—be—Oh, I <i>say</i>, Miss Forsyth, don't—" But the boy's +attention, quite naturally, turned to meet the enemy, who at that moment +appeared over the crest of the hill.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2><h3>THE GREEN BEADS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Beryl waved Robin off to the Granger's with a forced cheerfulness. Left +alone, she sat in the room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily at +the disarray left from the frenzied packing and unpacking.</p> + +<p>Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people with +two bags full of lovely clothes would ever, <i>ever</i> happen to her!</p> + +<p>In fact <i>nothing</i> exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and on +wanting things all her life.</p> + +<p>She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envy +her, but she wished she could have just <i>some</i> of the chances Robin +had—and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one of +Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham and +hold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughty +Alicia had no terrors for <i>her</i>, and if they tried to snub her, she'd +put her violin under her chin and then—</p> + +<p>The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Beryl +heard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed the +stairs and stopped outside of Robin's room.</p> + +<p>"Miss Beryl—a telegram."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span></p> + +<p>"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her life +and the yellow envelope frightened her.</p> + +<p>"The boy said as to sign here."</p> + +<p>Beryl wrote her name mechanically in letters that zigzagged crazily. +Harkness lingered while she tore open the envelope, concern struggling +with curiosity on his face.</p> + +<p>"It's from Robin's guardian. He—he wants—oh, Harkness, am I reading +<i>right</i>? He says I must come to New York at <i>once</i>—tonight, if I can. +He'll meet me—it's <i>extremely</i> important. Why, Harkness, what in the +world has happened? It doesn't sound awful, does it? Did you ever know +of anything so mysterious in your life?"</p> + +<p>Harkness never had. He read the telegram with brows drawn together.</p> + +<p>"Mebbe they left out something," he suggested, turning the sheet and +scrutinizing its back.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll <i>have</i> to go." Beryl's voice betrayed her deep excitement. +"I <i>can</i> catch the evening train. Oh, Harkness, how often I've watched +that go out and wished I was on it! And now I'm going to be. I'm going +to New York! Harkness, be a <i>dear</i> and hurry some dinner, will you? I'll +pack. And oh, will you take a note to mother for me? I'll not have time +to stop. Or wait—I won't tell her I'm going until I know what it's +for—she'd worry. Isn't that best?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, don't you fret. And +Joe'll take you down to the station in the truck, he will, for like as +not he'll be meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who lives +Boston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that'll be <i>nice</i>. But please hurry, Harkness. That boy's waiting +for his book. And I can't think."</p> + +<p>Two hours later Beryl sat upright on the plush seat of the evening +train, her old suitcase at her feet packed with every garment she +possessed.</p> + +<p>"This is more fun than all your old house-parties," she apostrophized +the black square of window, which dimly reflected her glowing face. Then +she lost herself in a delicious "I wonder" as to why she had been +summoned so mysteriously to New York.</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce and Miss Effie met her at the end of her wonderful +journey, no part of which had wearied her in the least, and their +smiling faces put at rest the tiny misgiving that had persisted that she +might be walking into some sort of a scheme to separate her from Robin.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you got my telegram in time to catch tonight's train. I've +made an important appointment for you tomorrow morning with a friend of +mine." But not another word concerning the mystery would the lawyer say. +Both he and his sister went about with a queer smile, and treated Beryl +as fond (and rich) parents might a good child on Christmas Eve.</p> + +<p>The next morning Miss Effie started the two of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> them off for the +"appointment" with a fluttery excitement bordering on hysteria.</p> + +<p>"You'll think, my dear, you've rubbed Aladdin's lamp," she whispered to +Beryl, patting down the neat white collar of Beryl's coat.</p> + +<p>Beryl thought of her words when she followed Mr. Allendyce through a +long dim room, crowded with treasures of fabric and ceramic, rich in +coloring, fragrant of oriental perfumes.</p> + +<p>"He's a collector," Cornelius Allendyce explained, nodding sideways and +hurrying on to a room in the back, as though their errand had nothing to +do with the curious things about them.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there, Eugene, we're here! Miss Lynch, this is Eugene Dominez, +known to two continents as that rare specimen, an honest collector; to +me, the only man I can't beat at chess!"</p> + +<p>A very small man rose from a great carved chair. He had a thin, leathery +face with an exaggerated nose, stretched out as though from sniffing for +curios in dusty dim corners. When he smiled his eyes shut and his mouth +twisted until he looked like a jolly little gnome.</p> + +<p>"Ah-ha! You admit you cannot beat me!" He spoke with a soft accent. "And +this is the little lady who owns the green beads." And he peered closely +at Beryl.</p> + +<p>The green beads! She had not thought of them once.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sit down. Sit down. I will ask you to tell me a story. Then I will tell +<i>you</i> a story. First, my dear young lady, tell me where you found the +beads?" As he spoke, he drew open a drawer, and took from it the +envelope Robin had given to her guardian.</p> + +<p>Beryl answered briefly, for the simple reason that she found difficulty +managing her tongue.</p> + +<p>"An—an old priest—back in Ireland—gave them—to us. He'd found them +in an antique shop in London."</p> + +<p>"Ah, so! Just so! So! So!" crowed the gnome-like man, jumping up and +down in his great chair. "Now I will tell <i>you</i> a story."</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time, as you say, a beautiful Queen of the fifteenth +century, while travelling through a forest, came upon a roving band of +gypsies. So great was her beauty that the gypsy chief gave to her a +necklace of precious jade, upon each bead of which had been tooled a +crown, so infinitesimal as to be seen only through a strong lens. The +chief told the fair Queen that the necklace brought good fortune to +whosoever possessed it. But so proud was the young Queen of the precious +beads and the good fortune that was to be hers that she boasted of them +to her Court and aroused the envy of many until a knave among her +courtiers stole them from her. For generations these beads, the +workmanship of a Magyar artisan, have passed from owner to owner, +always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> mysteriously, for, because of the good fortune they had power to +bestow, no one parted with them except from the most dire necessity, and +only lost them through theft. Ah," he held up one of the glowing green +globes, "the stories they could tell of greed and dishonor and cunning! +The lies that have been told for them! And an old priest found them at +last! It is many years since there has been any trace." He stared at +Beryl as though to see through her into the past. Then he roused quickly +and shook his shoulders. "They have hung about the necks of crowned +people, good people—and wicked people. Perhaps they have brought good +fortune—as the Magyar chieftain said they would. Who knows? You, my +dear—you are a girl with a sensible head on a pair of straight +shoulders—tell me, do you care more for the superstition of this +necklace—than for the money I will pay you for it—say, fifteen +thousand dollars?"</p> + +<p>Beryl stood up so suddenly that her chair tumbled backward, making a +crashing noise in the subdued stillness of the little room.</p> + +<p>"Are you joking?" she asked in a queer, choky voice.</p> + +<p>"No, he is not joking. And I told you he is known the world over as an +honest collector," broke in Cornelius Allendyce.</p> + +<p>"Fifteen—thousand—dollars! Why, that's an <i>awfully</i> big amount, isn't +it?" Beryl appealed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> helplessly to the lawyer. "Why—of <i>course</i> I'll +sell it—if you're sure it's what you think it is. I—I don't want—"</p> + +<p>The little collector handed her one of the beads and a strong magnifying +glass. "Look!" he commanded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, she +made out a tiny crown.</p> + +<p>She laughed hysterically. "I see it! I thought that was a scratch. I +never noticed it was on every one. Oh, how queer! A queen wore these!" +She rolled the bead slowly in the palm of her hand. Then she handed it +back. "But I'd much rather have the money than the beads even if a dozen +queens wore them." Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the exotic +atmosphere of the room.</p> + +<p>"I explained to Mr. Dominez your situation—and your ambition," +Cornelius Allendyce put in almost apologetically.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Allendyce will represent you in this deal, Miss Lynch, if you care +to think the sale over. However, I am giving you a final offer. You are +young and—"</p> + +<p>Beryl reached out both hands with childish impulsiveness. "Oh, I want +the money <i>now!</i> I want to spend it. I want—oh, you don't <i>know</i> all I +want—" She stopped abruptly, confused by the smiles on both men's +faces.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment in cash and the rest I will +deposit in the bank to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> your credit," explained Cornelius Allendyce. +"You need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear; fortune like +this does not come often to anyone. It's hard, indeed, not to believe +that the little beads <i>have</i> magic."</p> + +<p>"I'm dreaming. I'm just <i>plain dreaming</i> and I'll wake up in a minute +and find I'm Beryl Lynch, poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself as +she followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of the street. She +felt of her bulging pocketbook, into which she had put the roll of bills +the little collector had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardian +had counted over, quite seriously. It felt real but it just <i>couldn't</i> +be true—</p> + +<p>"Now where, my dear? You ought to make this day one you'll never +forget."</p> + +<p>"Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? Oh, then—then—can I go to +see Jacques Henri and tell him? I know the way—I can take the Ninth +Avenue Elevated—or—Would it be <i>very</i> foolish if I took a taxi?" Beryl +colored furiously.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the taxi and keep it there to +return to my house; then you and Miss Effie put your heads together and +decide just what you want to do first with your money."</p> + +<p>Beryl rejoiced that it was a nice shiny taxi, quite like a real lady's +car. She sniffed delightedly the leathery smell, sat bolt upright with +her chin in the air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go straight down Fifth Avenue," she instructed the driver.</p> + +<p>Spring, with its eternal sorcery, caressed the great city. Its spell +threw a sheen over the drab things Beryl remembered so well, the brick +schoolhouse, the Settlement, the dirty narrow street flanked by +dull-brown tenements with their endless fire escapes mounting higher and +higher, hung now with bedding of every color. The street swarmed with +children returning from school, and they gathered about the automobile +climbing on to the running board on either side and peering through the +windows.</p> + +<p>"It's the Lynch girl," someone cried and another answered jeeringly.</p> + +<p>"Aw, git off! Wot she doin' in this swell autymobile?"</p> + +<p>Beryl did not mind in the least the street urchins; even though she had +lived among them, neither she nor Dale had ever been of them, thanks to +her mother's watchful care. She smiled at them and fled into the dark +alley way that led to the court which, all through her childhood, had +been her playground.</p> + +<p>As she climbed, a dreadful thought appalled her. What if dear old +Jacques Henri had moved away—or died! But, no, at the very moment she +let the fear halt her climbing step she heard the dear sound of his +violin. She crept to his door and softly opened it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span></p> + +<p>The old man stood near his window, through which he could see a slit of +blue sky between two walls. On the sill were the pink geraniums he +nursed through winter and summer, their pinkness brightening the gloom +of the bare, dim room. Jacques Henri called them his family.</p> + +<p>"Jacques Henri!" Beryl ran to him and threw her strong arms about him.</p> + +<p>"Hold! Let me look. My girl? Ah, do my old eyes tell me false things? +No, it's my little Beryl!"</p> + +<p>Beryl took his violin from him, kissed its strings lightly and laid it +carefully upon the table. Then she pushed the startled old man back into +the one comfortable chair and perched herself upon its arm.</p> + +<p>"Listen, dear Jacques Henri, and I'll tell you the strangest story that +you ever heard—about Queens and gypsies and green beads and a girl you +know. Don't say <i>one</i> word until I'm through." And Beryl told in all its +wonderful detail, the happenings of the morning.</p> + +<p>"And don't you see what it means? I can begin to study at <i>once</i>! Right +this minute! And, <i>oh</i>, how I'll work and practice and learn until—"</p> + +<p>She caught up the old man's violin and its bow and drew it across the +strings.</p> + +<p>"Play!" commanded Jacques Henri, without so much as a word for the +Aladdin-lamp tale she had told him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span></p> + +<p>Beryl played and as she played she wished with all her might she could +summon the power that had been hers on Christmas night. She wanted to +play for Jacques Henri as she had played then. But she could not.</p> + +<p>"Stop!"</p> + +<p>Beryl laid the violin down.</p> + +<p>The old man scowled at her until she shifted nervously under his +searching eyes.</p> + +<p>"Your fingers—they are clever, your ear is true—but there is +nothing—of <i>you</i>—in what you play! Do you know what I mean?"</p> + +<p>He did not wait for Beryl to answer; he went on, with a shake of his +great head and his eyes still fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>"You come to me and tell me your good fortune and what you will do; how +<i>you</i> can study and <i>you</i> can work and <i>you</i> can learn to make good +music—and you have no word for what that money will mean to your saint +of a mother—aye, the best woman God ever made! Shame to you, selfish +girl, that you should put your ambition before her dreams!"</p> + +<p>The color dyed Beryl's face. "I never thought—" she muttered, then +stopped abruptly, ashamed of her own admission.</p> + +<p>"No, you never thought! Do you ever think much beyond yourself?" Then, +afraid that he had spoken too harshly, he laid his hand affectionately +upon Beryl's shoulder. "But you are young, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> dear, and youth is +careless. Jacques Henri knows that there is good in you—my eyes are +wise and I can see into your heart. It is an honest little heart—you +will heed in time. Ambition is a greedy thing—watch out that you keep +it in your clever head and do not let it wrap its hard sinews about your +heart, crushing all that is beautiful there. Listen to me, child; think +you that your music can reach into the souls of people if you do not +feel that music in your own good soul? Your fingers may be clever and +your body strong, but your music will be cold, cold, if the heart inside +you is a little, cold, mean thing! Many's the one, I grant you, content +to feed the passing plaudits of the crowd, but not the master—he must +go further, he must give of himself to all that they may carry something +beautiful of his gift away in their hearts. <i>That</i> is the master. <i>That</i> +is music."</p> + +<p>Beryl, always so ready in self-defense, stood mute before the old man's +charge. She had been scolded too often by this dear recluse to resent +it; she had, too, faith in anything he might say.</p> + +<p>Then: "You just ought to know Robin," she burst out, irrelevantly, eager +that her old teacher should believe that, even though she might be a +selfish, thoughtless girl herself, she could recognize and respect the +good qualities in others.</p> + +<p>"Forgive your old friend if he has hurt you. Go now to your blessed +mother and lay your good fortune at her feet. That I might see her +face!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span></p> + +<p>"And if she wants to use—<i>some</i> of the money, will you help me?" asked +Beryl, in a meek voice.</p> + +<p>"Ah, most surely. And proudly."</p> + +<p>Beryl rode back to Miss Erne's in a contritely humble mood.</p> + +<p>"I wish there were some sort of medicine one could take to make them +better inside their hearts! I wouldn't care <i>how</i> nasty it tasted," she +mourned, impatient at the long, hard climb that must be hers if she ever +made of herself what her Jacques Henri wanted.</p> + +<p>All of Miss Effie's coaxing could not keep Beryl from taking the +afternoon train to Wassumsic.</p> + +<p>"I must tell my mother about the beads—at once!" she answered, firmly.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2><h3>ROBIN'S RESCUE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Just as the shrill of the train whistle echoed through the little +valley, Moira Lynch set her lighted lamp in the window. She did not sing +tonight as she performed the customary ceremony, nor had she for many +nights. Her throat seemed too tired, her arms dropped with the weight of +her lamp, a dull little pain at the back of her neck gripped her with a +pulling clutch.</p> + +<p>The doctor had told her she was "tired out." She had gone to him very +secretly, lest Dale or big Danny should know and worry. But even to be +"just tired out" was very terrifying to Mother Moira—if her arms and +head and heart failed, who would take care of big Danny and keep a +little home for Dale and watch over Beryl?</p> + +<p>With her habitual optimism she tried to laugh away her alarm, but the +pulling ache persisted and her arms trembled under tasks that before had +seemed as nothing. She told herself that it was all her own fault that +her big Danny seemed harder to please, but when, under a particularly +trying moment, she broke down and cried, she knew she was reaching the +end of her endurance.</p> + +<p>"Did the train stop?" queried big Danny.</p> + +<p>"Sure and it did!" cried Mrs. Moira, trying to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> throw excitement into +her voice to please the invalid man. Big Danny took childish pleasure in +listening for the incoming and New York-bound trains.</p> + +<p>"What's keeping Dale? Prob'bly hanging 'round the Inn!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Moira smothered the quick retort that sprang to her lips in defense +of her boy.</p> + +<p>"He'll be here any minute," she said instead, comfortingly. "There he is +now!" Her quick ear had caught a step outside.</p> + +<p>Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted them. Suppressed +excitement, impatience, eagerness, an inward disgust of herself for +being a "selfish thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such an +unnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression that big Danny +whirled his chair toward her and Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over her +heart.</p> + +<p>"Beryl?" she cried, standing quite still.</p> + +<p>Beryl walked to her and very quietly gathered her into her young arms.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so scared, Mom, dear. Oh, <i>don't</i> cry! Why, I'm near crying +myself! After I've told you all that has happened I shall just <i>bawl</i>. +I'm too dreadfully happy. Sit down here, Mom, and hold my hand tight. +Wait—I must take my things off first."</p> + +<p>In a twinkling she had her stage "set" for her surprise. Strangely +stirred herself, she had to gulp once or twice before she could begin +her story. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> was difficult to keep it coherent, too, because Mrs. +Moira interrupted her so often with little unnecessary questions.</p> + +<p>"Did you really go to New York?"</p> + +<p>"And 'twas all night you stayed at the Allendyces themselves?"</p> + +<p>Because of her mother's agitation, Beryl abandoned the details with +which she had planned to lead up to the great surprise. She plunged +abruptly to the point of the story.</p> + +<p>"Those beads. They <i>weren't</i> just plain beads. They were a precious +necklace made by some queer people, ages and ages ago. <i>Queens</i> have +worn 'em and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from hand to +hand—I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck—for all these years and +then, suddenly, no one could find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend—the +collector—gave me <i>this money</i> outright for them and—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She stood erect, her eyes +flashing, her fingers working in and out, her lips trembling.</p> + +<p>"You sold my—<i>you sold my beads!</i> Beryl Lynch, how <i>dared</i> you. +My—my—"</p> + +<p>Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for sheer amazement.</p> + +<p>"My beads! They—were—the last—thing—I—had that +held—me—to—my—dreams." Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisper +that hurt Beryl to the soul.</p> + +<p>"Mother! Mother, <i>please</i> don't. It isn't too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> late. I can get them +back. I didn't know you cared, don't you see?"</p> + +<p>Beryl of course did not know about the pulling ache at the back of +Mother Moira's neck or she would have understood that her mother's +hysteria was due partly to that. She had never seen her mother look so +queer and old and pale and it frightened her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lynch crossed the room until she stood behind Danny's chair. +Involuntarily her hand moved to his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't know. It isn't your fault. Of course it's just beads +they were, but they belonged to the young part of me when my heart was +that light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong that it hurt the +inside of me. And nothing in this world was too fine for the likes of my +Danny and me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking. And then +when the clouds come—" her hand pressed big Danny's shoulder ever so +lightly, "I told myself the dreams were my own and no one could <i>take +them</i> away from me and if I couldn't make them come true, as true for +himself and me, sure, I'd keep them for my boy and girl. And 'twas the +beads were like a dear voice out of the past telling me to be strong, +for Father Murphy, with the saints in Heaven now, God rest him, gave +them to me himself with his blessing and saying might my dreams come +true! Ah, well—sure it's a punishment, maybe, for me wanting things +just for my own—"</p> + +<p>"Mother!" broke in Beryl, sternly. "As if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> could be punished for +anything! Will you tell me one thing? Which would you rather have—those +beads—or—or—a nice little farm in the hills with a cow and chickens +and pigs and a little orchard and—and a Ford—and a girl to do the +cooking so's you could stay with Pop, and Dale studying engineering in +some college, if he wanted to, and me—"</p> + +<p>"Beryl Lynch, are ye crazy?" cried big Danny, suspecting that the girl +was in someway trying to mock her mother.</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>, I'm not crazy, though I ought to be, with old Jacques Henri +scolding me and now mother—" She bit her lip childishly. "Will you +please just answer me, mother?"</p> + +<p>"A farm—with a garden—and a cow—and trees and a good stretch of the +green meadow—ah, sure I'd think it a bit of Heaven."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you can have it! You can have it!" Beryl rushed to and knelt by +big Danny's chair. "That's what I was trying to tell you. That man will +give you fifteen thousand dollars for those beads! Really, truly. See, +he gave me all this money today. And Mr. Allendyce will put the rest in +the bank. Oh, I know it's hard to believe but it's true. You can ask Mr. +Allendyce."</p> + +<p>Big Danny, with trembling hands, took the roll of bills from Beryl's +purse. They were undisputable proof of her story.</p> + +<p>"Moira girl, 'tis true!" Big Danny's voice trembled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Tis Father Murphy's blessing," whispered Mrs. Lynch, a strange light +in her eyes. "May I be worthy of it!" Then she roused and laughed, a +tinkling laugh. "Ah—my girl shall have her music, now! Oh, it's too +wonderful."</p> + +<p>"Where's Dale?" cried Beryl, her heart jubilant that the unexpected +crisis had passed. "Won't he be surprised?"</p> + +<p>"What ever can be keeping the boy? 'Tis long past the hour."</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, don't you begin a-worrying. Dale's old enough to look +after himself."</p> + +<p>"It's a fussing old hen I am, as true as true!" And because once more +her heart was so light inside of her that it hurt, she kissed her big +Danny on the top of his head.</p> + +<p>"I wish Dale would come. I ought to go back to the Manor. Harkness is +probably worrying his head off over my strange visit to New York."</p> + +<p>But Harkness had other things to worry about.</p> + +<p>Dale burst in upon his family just a few moments after Beryl had spoken +but she did not tell her story. He gave her no opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Gordon Forsyth's lost!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Lost?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Somewhere in the woods between Cornwall and South Falls. Strangest +thing you ever heard. She made young Tom Granger run off with +her—goodness knows where they were headed for, and when his car went +into the ditch she made a dash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> for the woods and that's the last +anyone's seen of her."</p> + +<p>"Why, Dale, she couldn't—" cried Beryl.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't? Easiest thing in the world. Woods are thick and miles deep +through there."</p> + +<p>"I mean she couldn't be running off with Tom Granger. Why, she never met +him until yesterday—"</p> + +<p>"Well, it wasn't exactly <i>with</i> him but she made him, <i>take</i> her off. +She was running away from some one. Granger's been over here talking to +Norris. They called me in. Seems Kraus had taken my model to sell to +Granger, and called it his own, and Miss Gordon heard him. And she just +walked in when they weren't in the room and—took it. Granger wouldn't +say any more. He's too worried. What I think is that Kraus chased +them—Miss Gordon and Tom Granger—"</p> + +<p>"How <i>thrilling! What</i> an adventure," exclaimed Beryl, her eyes shining. +Oh, exciting things <i>were</i> happening!</p> + +<p>"Thrilling! Won't be thrilling if anything's happened to the kid. It's +four hours now and Granger's had a bunch of men hunting ever since his +son walked into the office and gave the alarm. Can you give me a bite in +a hurry, Mom? The Manor car's going to take six of us over to meet young +Granger and make a thorough search."</p> + +<p>"But it's tired to death you look now, Dale. Can't—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm not tired—just bothered. Mom, I hate to think of that little thing +getting into this fix just for my model. Granger was awfully decent +about the thing; told Norris he was a fool not to jump at it. He said he +had some sort of a note Miss Robin had left and it seemed to amuse him, +but he didn't offer to show it. It isn't only because she's a Forsyth I +care, but she's such a square little thing. Hurry up, please, Mom, +Williams may stop any moment."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> ought to go up to the Manor. They must be in an awful state."</p> + +<p>"Wait, as soon as ever I can fix your father I'll go with you myself," +cried Mrs. Lynch.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Toward noon of the next day, in answer to an urgent telegram, Cornelius +Allendyce arrived at the Manor, having come down from New York by motor. +Just as he was gulping down the coffee Harkness had brought to him, Mr. +Granger, Senior, was ushered in.</p> + +<p>The men knew one another well. They shook hands, then Cornelius +Allendyce motioned him to a chair opposite him at the table.</p> + +<p>The lawyer only needed to look at the other man's face to know that he +brought no good news.</p> + +<p>"Tom telephoned from Cornwall at six o'clock. Not a sign. Not so much as +a red hair! Strangest thing I ever heard of. They're going to search +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> ravines today—easy enough for her to stumble into them if she was +frightened or hurrying. Then there's the kidnapping possibility!"</p> + +<p>"Improbable!" protested the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>nothing's</i> improbable. You'd have said it wasn't to be thought +of that a youngster like that would run off with that model. I want to +give you the details of this whole matter—they'd be extremely +interesting if one were not so concerned." He told of his two interviews +with Adam Kraus and of Dale's invention. "A master contrivance. I can't +understand your man, here, letting it get away from him. Why, it's worth +a lot to me, but in these Mills—well, you may not know what I think of +your mills," he laughed. "I'll tell you another time. The girl saw this +Kraus go into my office, and persuaded my boy, who'd been taking her for +a ride, to stop. She was waiting in my outer office and heard Kraus +claim the invention as his own—scoundrel that he was—and when I took +Kraus to see my head foreman, didn't she walk in, help herself to the +model and leave me this." He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed +it to Cornelius Allendyce. "Read it."</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class='letter'>"This model is Dale Lynch's. I am taking it to him. When I see my +guardian, I shall make him buy it for the Forsyth Mills.</p> + +<p class='sig'><span class="smcap">Gordon Forsyth.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce looked up from the bit of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> paper. He had suddenly +recalled the frightened little girl he had first brought to Gray Manor.</p> + +<p>"Who'd believe that the child had the nerve?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. Well, she ran off with it, Kraus gave chase, Tom +headed toward Cornwall, then switched off on an unimproved road and came +to grief. Just as Kraus was about to overtake them the child ran off +into the wood. Tom didn't have the vaguest idea what it was all about, +but he tried to head off Kraus and when Kraus started for the wood he +did a little wrestling trick that surprised the fellow, got him down, +tied him in the Ford and went himself in search of Miss Gordon. When he +came back after an hour's search he found Kraus and the Ford gone and he +walked back to South Falls. That's all."</p> + +<p>"That model may be worth a lot, but it is not worth another tragedy to +this house," groaned Cornelius Allendyce.</p> + +<p>"No. It is worth a good deal—but not—that much."</p> + +<p>A few moments' deep silence prevailed. Wrinkles of worry twisted the +lawyer's face. What a mess it all was, anyway—he had urged Robin to go +to the Granger's in hopes that she'd bring the two families into close +intimacy again and instead of that she had gotten herself into this fix. +If they found her safe and sound she ought to be spanked and taught to +keep her hands off the Mill affairs until<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> she was older. But down in +his heart he knew this was only a vexatious expression of his +concern—you couldn't punish Robin for anything.</p> + +<p>"As her guardian I appreciate your alarm. I share it with you, not alone +because Miss Forsyth was a guest at my house but because I took a great +fancy to the child. It struck me, as I looked at her, that her coming to +Wassumsic—to the Manor, might change things, here, quite a bit."</p> + +<p>"It has—it will," mumbled Mr. Allendyce. For a moment, just to relieve +his feelings, he wondered if he might not confide in this very human man +the ordeal he must face with Madame Forsyth when his reckoning came.</p> + +<p>"My wife is prostrated with it all. She does not know the particulars +but she is deeply concerned. I do not like to add to your worry but do +you think there is any possibility that the child returned to the road, +and that Kraus, freed from Tom's rope, captured her and went off with +her?"</p> + +<p>"Why, every possibility in the world!" shouted Robin's guardian. "Why +did you hug that idea to yourself? We'll telephone the New York police. +He's sure to make straight for the city."</p> + +<p>Both men welcomed action. They rushed to the library and put in a long +distance call and then, while waiting, paced the room's length back and +forth. Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued his ear to the +crack in the door, hopeful for one crumb of comforting news.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span></p> + +<p>Below stairs Mrs. Budge, flatly refusing to believe that "Miss Robin" +could be lost just when she had learned to love her, beat up a cake for +her homecoming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into the batter.</p> + +<p>In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, who did not even have +the heart to play with Susy, sat with her nose against the window +watching the ribbon of road over which anyone would come if they came. +That was why she was the first of the Manor household to spy the +dilapidated Ford approaching, snorting up the incline. Something about +it made her think of the general dilapidation of the Forgotten Village. +It might be some word! She rushed down the stairs, two steps at a time, +past the startled Harkness, through the big front door. The +strange-looking car had turned into the Manor gate. A man with long +white whiskers was driving it. And yes, a bareheaded girl, who looked +like Robin, sat on the back seat. It <i>was</i> Robin. Beryl waved her hand +wildly and Robin answered. But who rode with her? Beryl's flying feet +came to a quick halt.</p> + +<p>"As sure as I'm <i>alive</i> it's the Queen of Altruria!"</p> + +<p>Turning, Beryl rushed back to the Manor.</p> + +<p>"Harkness! <i>Harkness!</i>" she cried, bursting in through the door. +"Robin's coming! She's <i>here!</i> And she's brought the Queen of Altruria +with her! Oh, <i>what'll</i> we do?" For surely some ceremony befitting +royalty should be prepared.</p> + +<p>"The Queen of <i>what</i>—" cried Mr. Granger and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> Cornelius Allendyce +rushing from the library. "Oh, the girl's <i>crazy</i>—" asserted the +lawyer. Nevertheless he ran to the door, followed by Mr. Granger and +Harkness and Beryl and Hannah Budge and Chloe, who had heard Beryl's +glad cry in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>At close range the dilapidated Ford looked even more dilapidated; Robin, +letting her royal companion talk terms of payment with the bewhiskered +scion of the Forgotten Village, clambered out the moment the car stopped +and fell into Beryl's arms. From their shelter, after the briefest +instant, she lifted her face to greet her guardian and found him staring +at the Queen in a sort of stupid unbelief.</p> + +<p>"I brought—" Robin started an introduction, but did not finish. For, +recovering, with an obvious effort, his natural manner of politeness, +her guardian was hurrying down the steps to the little car.</p> + +<p>"Madame Forsyth, I did not expect—"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2><h3>MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME</h3> +</div> + +<p>"No. I judge from all your faces no one expected me!" exclaimed Madame +Forsyth coldly, extending to Cornelius Allendyce the tips of her +fingers. "Harkness, you look as though you were seeing a ghost!"</p> + +<p>Her rebuking words had the effect of galvanizing poor Harkness' limbs to +action—but not his tongue. Though he hobbled down the steps and took +the bag from the lawyer's hand, not a word could he speak from sheer +stupefaction.</p> + +<p>And Hannah Budge so forgot her long years of loyalty to the House of +Forsyth as to cry out—"Oh, Miss Robin!" before so much as one word of +greeting for Madame Forsyth.</p> + +<p>"You could 'a clean knocked me over," she explained to Harkness +afterward, "Our Madame going away as fine as you please with that +baggage of a Florrie who was as full of tricks as a cat after a mouse, +and coming back in that old car that had moss on it, I do believe, and +with Miss Robin, too, who they all thought was lost though <i>I</i> knew +better. Something <i>told</i> me to beat up that cake yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"And Miss Robin didn't know Madame was Madame," explained Harkness, his +face perplexed. "She and Miss Beryl here've been thinking she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> was some +mysterious lydy or other—Williams says they got it in their little +heads she was a Queen hiding—"</p> + +<p>"Madame hiding <i>where</i>?" snorted Budge.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> can't make nothing out of it. My head goes 'round in a circle +like. Only Williams says that lydy must be the lydy the young lydies +visited, mysterious like, just afore Christmas and the lydy's our Madame +all right and that's what I say my head goes 'round in a circle!"</p> + +<p>"Your tongue, too, Timothy Harkness. Well, there's lots going to happen +now, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. First thing, I s'pose, she'll clear +that Castle young 'un out of the house and then your Miss Beryl. And +mebbe send Miss Robin off to school somewheres to get these common +notions out o' her little head. You say they're all talking upstairs +now?"</p> + +<p>"Only Madame and the lawyer man. Mr. Granger's gone down to the Mills to +send word to his home that Miss Robin's found."</p> + +<p>"Saints be praised!" murmured Mrs. Budge, devoutly.</p> + +<p>Up in her little sitting-room Robin and Beryl sat arm in arm, and Robin +told Beryl the whole story of her adventure. On the window seat beside +them lay the square box containing Dale's model.</p> + +<p>"I just ran, Beryl, as fast as I could and <i>anywhere</i>. I was so +frightened I didn't stop to look. I fell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> down twice and the second time +I was so tired I could scarcely get up. But I had to. And then I thought +I'd found a path, and I followed it, but it stopped at a ravine that +was, <i>oh</i>, so deep. Well, I knew I was lost. I called and called and no +one answered. And I heard all sorts of queer noises as though there +might be wild beasts. One came very close, I'm sure, though I couldn't +see it. And I was dreadfully hungry. I sat down on a log and cried, +too—my feet ached so and my arms ached so from carrying this box. I +decided to bury it and leave a note telling about it, for, honestly, +Beryl, I didn't think then I'd live an hour longer, but I didn't have a +pencil and when I started to dig with my hands the ground was so gooy +that I couldn't bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it." She shuddered and +Beryl held her hands tighter. "And it began to get dark. I tried to be +brave and say nothing could hurt me, but I couldn't help but hear the +funny noises and I was so <i>awfully</i> alone. I started to walk again, just +somewhere, because when I walked I couldn't hear all the sounds and +every now and then I'd call out. And just as it was almost pitch dark in +the wood something big came rushing toward me and sprang at me and, +Beryl, I fainted dead away! Well, the next thing I knew something was +licking my face. And someone was saying something queer, and Beryl, it +was Cæsar and that Brina from our House of Rushing Water! Cæsar had +heard me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> call and found me, and then he had barked and howled until +Brina came with a lantern."</p> + +<p>Beryl jumped up and down in excitement.</p> + +<p>"What happened then?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Brina carried me—and that box—to the house in the wood. It seemed I'd +gotten most to it and didn't know it. And the Queen was awfully +frightened. But she wouldn't let me say a word; she made Brina put me in +her bed and she covered me with blankets and she fed me herself, +something hot and oh, so good. And she kept petting me and cuddling me +for I guess I shook like a leaf. You see, I couldn't <i>believe</i> I was +safe and sound; I kept seeing that dog jump at me! And finally she sang +to me, the nicest old-fashioned song and I went to sleep, and I never +opened my eyes until this morning, and there she stood by my bed with a +tray of nice breakfast. She wouldn't let me tell her how I got lost +until I'd eaten every crumb. And then I felt so cosy and warm and safe +that I told her everything—<i>everything</i>, all about Mother Lynch and how +my plans for the House of Laughter had failed at first, and then the +Rileys and what I thought of the Mills, and how horrid Mr. Norris was +and about Susy and poor Granny and Dale's model, and then what I'd done +at Grangers'. I just got started and I couldn't stop. And Beryl, I told +her <i>again</i> how my aunt was an unhappy old woman who worried over her +own troubles so much that she didn't have time for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> other people's. +Wasn't that dreadful?" And Robin caught up a pillow and buried her face +in it.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that <i>was</i> dreadful. What ever did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She didn't say anything. She picked up my tray and went out, and I felt +the way I had that other time, all fussed, because I'd bothered a Queen +with my silly affairs. And I could have sworn then she was a Queen, +Beryl, she had such a dignified way of being sweet and she smelled so +nice and perfumy—a different perfume. And that Brina had put the +gorgeousest nightgown on me, too."</p> + +<p>"When did you first know the Queen was your aunt?" Beryl broke in.</p> + +<p>"Beryl Lynch, on my honor, not until my guardian called her Madame +Forsyth! After she took my tray out she came back, and she did look sort +of funny, now I remember, the way one does when one decides suddenly to +do something you hadn't dreamed of doing, and she told me Brina had gone +into the village to hunt up some sort of a vehicle to get me back to the +Manor. And I didn't think until the last moment that she meant to come, +too. And all the way over I was nearly bursting thinking how surprised +you'd be and what fun it would be to have the Queen visit us. Oh, dear!" +And Robin drew a long breath, half sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, something'll happen <i>now</i>," groaned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> Beryl, in much the same tone +Budge had used. "When she finds out about Susy and me!"</p> + +<p>And below in the library the same thought held Robin's +guardian—something must happen, now.</p> + +<p>He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth freshened herself after +her long ride. And while he waited, in considerable apprehension, he +planned the course he would follow; if Madame refused to accept little +Red-Robin as her heir, because she was a girl and <i>different</i>, why, he'd +take her back with him to his own home. She could live with him and his +sister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt her if Jimmie would +let him. And he'd take Beryl, too, if Robin wished—and he'd see Susy +was put with some nice family.</p> + +<p>But where in the world had Robin found her aunt—or her aunt found +Robin. Everyone acted as though they were knocked stupid by the +mystery—no one had offered a word of explanation. He rubbed his +forehead as though it might have circles, too.</p> + +<p>"Which shall we hear first?" a voice asked behind him, "How <i>you</i> +happened to bring little Robin here—or how <i>I</i> did?"</p> + +<p>The words startled him more because of their tone than their +unexpectedness. And turning, he saw (to his immense relief) that Madame +Forsyth was smiling—and in her eyes was a softened look, though they +were shadowed with fatigue.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am immensely curious, I must admit, as to where you found Robin, but +I feel that I owe you the first explanation."</p> + +<p>He told then, of his first visit to Patchin Place and of his finding +little Robin in her curious surroundings.</p> + +<p>"I really cannot say just what put the notion in my head of taking her +to the Manor—I think it was something appealing about the child."</p> + +<p>"You are more honest to admit that than I expected, Cornelius Allendyce. +Your silence in regard to her being a girl might seem inexcusable to me +only that I am glad, now, that you kept silence. For I would have most +certainly, then, sent her back. And—I am glad that never happened. You +see <i>I</i> can be honest, too."</p> + +<p>"Before I can explain my finding the child in this last plight of hers I +must tell you a little of my 'wanderings' since I left the Manor. They +were not far. I went to New York and reserved passage on a steamer +sailing for the Mediterranean the next week. That evening I saw the 'for +sale' notice of a house in the Connecticut woods, which advertised +absolute seclusion. I telephoned to my banker, who has been in my +confidence, and he made a hurried trip to Brown's Mill and bought the +house, just as it stood. The next day I discharged Florrie, cancelled my +sailing reservations, picked up a strong German woman for a cook, bought +a dog and rode out to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> my new home. It offered all that I had hoped it +would. There I planned to find a change that would be a rest, to forget +the world about me and live in my past, which was all I had. And for +several weeks I did—until two girls broke in upon my precious privacy."</p> + +<p>She told of Robin and Beryl's first visit and then of their second, and +of the gifts they brought from the Manor.</p> + +<p>"I confess it was a shock to me to discover that this child was—Gordon +Forsyth. Yet it was the shock I needed to rouse me from my depression. +For, like you, I fell quickly under the girl's charm. From that day on I +found I could not hold my thoughts to my past—in spite of me they +persisted in dwelling upon the present—and the future. You see I am +frank with you."</p> + +<p>Cornelius Allendyce nodded. He dared not speak for he did not want to +betray the relief he felt.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I would have returned to the Manor for several weeks +yet, for my health has singularly benefited by my—unusual change, +except that this escapade of Robin's made me feel that I was needed +here. Something she said made up my mind for me, rather quickly. +Cornelius Allendyce—that child has a great gift. It is the gift of +giving. An unusual talent in the Forsyth family, you are thinking! But +like all talents it ought to be trained and directed and strengthened +and my work is—to do it. I had thought my life lived—but it is not, +and I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> happy to have found it so. I am too old, perhaps, to learn the +new ways but I am not too old to safeguard them."</p> + +<p>"You are a wonderful old woman," the lawyer answered, quite +involuntarily and with such instant alarm at his audacity that Madame +Forsyth smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. I am not wonderful at all. I am revealing my heart to you, now, +in a way I do not often open it, but I shall, to my last day, probably, +be a proud, overbearing old woman with a sharp tongue. You, however, +will know what is underneath."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, then Madame Forsyth told him of Cæsar's +finding Robin in the woods and giving the alarm.</p> + +<p>"The child was utterly exhausted. I cannot bear to think of what might +have happened if we—had not been living there. Thank God we found her. +May I summon the girls? I am curious to see more of this rather unusual +young person my niece has attached to my household."</p> + +<p>Then the lawyer remembered Beryl's great good fortune and that nothing +had been said concerning that. How happy Robin would be!</p> + +<p>In answer to Madame's summons Robin and Beryl came to the library, +nervously sedate in manner and with fingers intertwined in a close grip.</p> + +<p>Madame beckoned to them with her jeweled white hand.</p> + +<p>"Come to me, Robin. Are you sorry to find that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> your mysterious friend +by the Rushing Waters—is your aunt?"</p> + +<p>Robin advanced slowly, her eyes on her aunt's face.</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no! Only—maybe <i>you're</i> sorry about—<i>me</i>—being a girl and +such a small one—and lame, too—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my <i>dear</i>!" And Madame Forsyth held out her arms impulsively and +Robin, her face aglow, snuggled into them.</p> + +<p>Every moment of that day something exciting and significant seemed to +happen. Ever so many people called, and it was fun to see their surprise +at finding Madame home. Aunt Mathilde, (Robin could not make the name +sound natural) upon introduction, had acted as though she almost liked +Susy, and Susy had looked very cunning in the new dress the nurse had +made for her. And she hadn't said Susy would have to go! Then Robin flew +off, the very first moment, with Beryl to find Mrs. Lynch and <i>hug</i> her +over the wonderful fortune and talk about the farm which must be very +near Wassumsic. Then Beryl played for Aunt Mathilde and Aunt Mathilde +had looked as though she "felt funny inside!"</p> + +<p>And then Dale had come with Tom Granger, both of them looking haggard +from anxiety and lack of sleep. They came in while Beryl was playing. +Robin was glad of that for it gave her a moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> to think what she must +say to Tom Granger in explanation.</p> + +<p>She did not need to say anything, however. Tom knew the whole story, +from his father and from Dale. He and Dale had become fast friends.</p> + +<p>He caught Robin's hand and pumped her small arm until it ached.</p> + +<p>"I had to see you to believe you'd turned up," he laughed. "You +certainly gave us a scare we won't forget in a hurry! But you're a good +little sport and I'm coming around, if I may, to take you for a +ride—before I have to go back to school."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never want to go <i>fast</i> again in my life," cried Robin, +coloring under the meaning glance Beryl shot at her.</p> + +<p>Dale greeted her more shyly, and because Madame Forsyth and Cornelius +Allendyce were talking to Tom, and Beryl had eyes and ears only for the +nice-looking lad, no one overheard what passed between them.</p> + +<p>"Miss Robin, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened +to you! You should not have taken such a risk—just for my model."</p> + +<p>Robin looked at Dale with shining eyes. Would she tell him of her +"pretend?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> saved <i>my</i> life once," she exclaimed, impulsively.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> did!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—a long time ago. I was hunting in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> little park in New York for +my doll that I'd left there and you found me, crying. And you took me +home—to Patchin Place. I guess maybe you forgot, because you were big +and I was a little bit of a thing!"</p> + +<p>Dale stared at her for a moment, then he laughed.</p> + +<p>"Why, of <i>course</i>—I remember now. You <i>were</i> a little bit of a thing, +with blue eyes and a blue tam. You asked me what a Ma was! Yes, I'd +clean forgotten." He sobered suddenly, and Robin knew it was because he +remembered <i>why</i> he had forgotten. His father had been hurt that +evening.</p> + +<p>He looked very big now and very much grown up and Robin wondered, with a +wild confusion sending her blood tingling to her face, would he remember +that she had kissed him and called him her Prince? She watched him, +trembling. But no, he did not remember!</p> + +<p>"Well, you've more than repaid me for <i>that</i> little thing," he said. +"Someone else would have found you if I hadn't. And please promise, Miss +Robin, you won't take any more chances for me!"</p> + +<p>So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in her heart—not to be +forgotten, but to be enjoyed, as a big-little girl enjoys taking out +childish toys or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressing +them tenderly, putting them back reverently—and feeling tremendously +grown-up!</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span>A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down upon two heads close together +at a wide-open window. The one was dark and the other red. And the same +young moon audaciously winked at the whispered confidences exchanged in +the brooding quiet of the night.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Robin, doesn't it seem an <i>age</i> since you went off to +Granger's?——So much has happened. I don't feel like the same girl——Tom +Granger's awfully nice looking——his eyes are <i>blue</i>, Robin——oh, +I won't let myself <i>think</i> of going to New York until Mom and Pop +are settled somewhere away from the Mills——Robin, you're so +<i>quiet</i>——I should think you'd be bursting—"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad my aunt was nice to Susy and your mother and—Dale. Beryl, +she's going to make Norris take that invention——"</p> + +<p>"Well, I never dreamed that old toy really amounted to anything—"</p> + +<p>"—— —— —— ——"</p> + +<p>"Beryl, don't you love the stars? <i>You're</i> quiet now——"</p> + +<p>Beryl giggled.</p> + +<p>"Robin—I just remembered! Do you realize we gave our—Queen—<i>her own +book for Christmas</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Beryl, as <i>sure</i> as anything! Oh, how funny!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">318</a></span> +<h2>EPILOGUE</h2><h3>A STORY AFTER THE STORY</h3> +</div> + +<p>In a hammock hung between two leafing apple trees, a woman lay, so very +still that she seemed sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliage +over her head, now and then showering her with pink petals from the +lingering blossoms; from beneath her rose the damp sweet fragrance of +soft earth and green grass, nearby a meadow-lark sang plaintively; +somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate in the nest; from the +valley, stretching below the sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted.</p> + +<p>A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining woman and her eyes +stared through the lacy canopy of green into the blue sky, where fleecy +clouds sailed off to the west and south.</p> + +<p>A lingering echo went singing through her heart. "It is all yours, Moira +Lynch! It is all yours!" The beauty around her—the promise of spring, +the green of orchard and meadow and distant hill, the rest, the +contentment—the happiness, and oh, most precious, the fulfilment.</p> + +<p>There was never a day now, in Mother Moira's life, so busy that she +could not snatch a moment to go over, in reverent appreciation, the +blessings that were hers. And no longer were her dreams—for nothing +could change the dreaming heart of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">319</a></span> little woman—for herself or +even for her big Danny; they were for her fine lad, a man now, and +Beryl, working so earnestly for her ambition, and little Robin, who +would always <i>be</i> little Robin, and the imp of a Susy, ruddy cheeked and +happy-hearted.</p> + +<p>How long, long ago seemed those days when, a slip of a girl, she had +dreamed on that other hillside of a future that would be hers; how +dazzling had been the pictures she had fancied; how much she had dared +to ask. In her youthful bravado she had laughed at Destiny and had made +so bold as to declare Destiny might even then be weaving a bit of gold +into the drab fabric of her life.</p> + +<p>(Faith, was not little Robin her bit of gold? Had not the wonderful +change begun in their lives after little Robin came to the Manor?)</p> + +<p>Five years had passed, since she and her big Danny had moved from the +village to the little farm that was "just around the corner." During +them she and big Danny had been alone a great deal of the time, +excepting for little Susy; for Dale and Beryl, after settling them +snugly in the old-fashioned farmhouse, (painted as white as white with a +new barn for the gentle-eyed cow, and a pen for the pigs, and a trim +little run-way for the chickens) had gone away, Dale to an engineering +college, Beryl to live with Miss Allendyce and take her precious violin +lessons, and lessons in languages and science. But Mother Moira was +never lonesome, for mere miles could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">320</a></span> separate a heart like hers +from those she loved!</p> + +<p>There had been significant changes in the village for her to watch +develop. The old Mill cottages had been torn down and across the river +had been built a cluster of white houses, each with its own yard "going +right around it," and trees and a bit of garden. There was a new school +house, too, and a new corps of teachers, and a hospital and a library. +Robin and her aunt had opened this only a month before.</p> + +<p>And the House of Laughter had been enlarged to meet the increasing +demands upon it; there were rooms for the girls' clubs and the boys' +clubs, and a billiard room and a bowling alley, and an athletic field +with a basketball court and a baseball diamond.</p> + +<p>(Sir Galahad in his scarlet coat still hung over the mantel which +Williams had built. Robin would not let anyone change that.)</p> + +<p>Mrs. Riley lived in the upper floor of the House of Laughter and took +care of it.</p> + +<p>The Manor car, with Madame Forsyth, passed often now through the streets +of the village and from it Madame nodded pleasantly to this person and +that, stopping sometimes to ask one Mill mother concerning her sick +child, another of her husband—and another whether she had finished the +knit bed-spread upon which Madame had found her working one afternoon +when she had called. Madame had herself regularly visited the new Mill +houses during the process of construction and took delight in dropping +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">321</a></span> upon the newly organized school while classes were in session.</p> + +<p>"I'll be the same proud, overbearing old lady," she had told her lawyer, +but she had been mistaken—she could never be quite that again, for she +had found too much pure delight in doing the little things Robin quite +artlessly suggested—little things which had not been easy at first and +which had seemed to demand too great a sacrifice of her pride.</p> + +<p>The passing of time for the three at the Manor, Madame, Mrs. Budge and +Harkness, was marked, Mother Lynch well knew, by Robin's coming and +going. For, when her Jimmie had returned from southern seas, Robin had +insisted upon going straight to him, and it was not until her aunt had +laid aside the last shred of her old prejudice and invited Robin's +father to the Manor for a long visit that Robin had consented to look +upon the Manor as her "home," though, even then, she steadfastly +asserted "part" of her time must be spent with Jimmie.</p> + +<p>While at the Manor James Forsyth had painted his "Wood Sprite," which +won for him quick and wide recognition, and ever afterward Robin and +Madame Forsyth referred to it as "our picture."</p> + +<p>No, Mother Moira was never lonesome.</p> + +<p>A gay voice roused her now from her happy reverie, footsteps rustled the +grass, cool hands, with a touch as light as the blowing petals, closed +over her eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">322</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dreaming again, little Mom? You're incurable!" And Beryl, with a laugh, +dropped upon the ground close to the hammock, one hand closing over her +mother's.</p> + +<p>"It's a bit of a cat-nap I'm stealing," fibbed Mother Moira, blushing +like a girl. Her eyes lingered adoringly on the glowing, flushed face +close to hers. "Where have you been, Beryl?"</p> + +<p>"Susy coaxed me off to her fairy spring. It's really a lovely little +nook she's found and she's made a doll's house in the hollow of an old +tree. She's a funny little thing—almost elfin, isn't she? Are you sure +she isn't too much trouble for you and Dad, Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble? Bless the little heart of the colleen, it's something +happening every minute for it's an imp of mischief she is, but, Beryl, I +like it. It keeps my own heart young."</p> + +<p>"As though your heart would ever grow old! You're like Robin. Oh, +mother, you can't <i>know</i> how lonesome I've been over there in Milan for +the sight of you and this little place. I think my soul, the one poor +dear Jacques Henri tried to find in me and didn't—wakened one night +when I actually cried myself to sleep just longing to feel your arms +around me! Oh, when one has a mother and a home like mine to want to +come to, it ought to be <i>easy</i> to keep beautiful inside, the way the +dear man said!" And Beryl, staring thoughtfully out over the valley, +did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">323</a></span> not see the glow that transformed her mother's face.</p> + +<p>A shrill whistle from the Mills echoed and reechoed through the valley. +Beryl turned her head suddenly and laid her cheek against the palm of +her mother's hand.</p> + +<p>"Mother, I saw a lot of Tom Granger when I was in Paris."</p> + +<p>Mother Moira started ever so slightly, with the barest twitching of the +hand Beryl's cheek touched.</p> + +<p>"He was very nice to me. Mother, are he and—and Robin—awfully good +friends?"</p> + +<p>"What's in your heart, my girl?"</p> + +<p>"Mom, couldn't Robin marry almost <i>anybody</i>? She's such a dear and she's +so rich and she's travelled around so much."</p> + +<p>"Why, bless the heart of her, she's nothing but a child!"</p> + +<p>"Mother!" Beryl's voice rang impatiently. "We'll just <i>never</i> grow up in +your eyes! Why, Robin's twenty. Well, I should think <i>anyone'd</i> like Tom +Granger."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear!" And Mother Moira, reading the girl's heart with her wise +mother-eyes, gave a tiny sigh. Must the shadow of a heartache touch the +splendid friendship between these two, Beryl and Robin?</p> + +<p>The thought lingered with her while she watched the girls come hand in +hand out to the orchard from the drive where Robin had left her +roadster. Beryl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">324</a></span> had only been home for three days and Robin came out to +the farm at every opportunity.</p> + +<p>Her girls—her tall, handsome Beryl with the strong shoulders and the +free swing of her, and little Robin, with her deep blue eyes and her +tender lips and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her walk +the appearance of eagerness.</p> + +<p>There was still so much to talk about that the two girls lingered under +the trees while Mother Moira swung gently and listened and watched the +dear young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a weekend at a duke's +house; Robin had spent a month in the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie; +Dale had brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from an +expedition he had made with an engineering gang into the fastnesses of +South America, and Beryl had been asked to tour in the fall with the +Cincinnati Symphony and was going to accept. Their chatter came back +then to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the library and the new +teachers, who were Smith College graduates, and Sophie Mack who had +started a Girl Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House of +Laughter.</p> + +<p>"Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and Dale coming!" cried +Mother Moira, springing to quick life.</p> + +<p>"And Dale has a wonderful secret to tell, too," laughed Robin, her eyes +shining.</p> + +<p>Beryl looked at her friend curiously—Robin had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">325</a></span> the "all-tight-inside" +look that Beryl remembered from the old days at the Manor.</p> + +<p>"Do you know the secret?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Robin's face flushed rose-red. "Y-yes. But I promised Dale I wouldn't +tell. We both want to see your mother's face—when she hears it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think you're mean to have a secret with Dale that <i>I</i> don't +know!" cried Beryl, with real indignation. "Is it something that's going +to make Mom lots happier?"</p> + +<p>"I—hope—so!" And to hide the tell-tale rose on her face Robin threw +her arms around Mother Moira and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Faith, is it any happier I could be without my heart just breaking?"</p> + +<p>Dale came and they all, big Danny in his wheel chair, ate supper on the +broad porch where they could enjoy the sunset. Beryl watched her brother +with admiring eyes—he had grown so strong and big and good-looking, his +nice-fitting clothes set off his broad shoulders so well, his voice had +such a ring of confidence.</p> + +<p>"I've been offered the management of the Forsyth Mills," he announced +suddenly.</p> + +<p>Then <i>that</i> was the secret!</p> + +<p>"Really, truly?" exclaimed Beryl.</p> + +<p>"And will ye take it, my boy?" asked big Danny, a note of pride +deepening his voice.</p> + +<p>"My boy a manager!" trilled Mother Moira.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">326</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. I'll take it. I made one condition with Madame Forsyth—and she +granted it." And Dale flashed a look across to Robin. Everyone followed +his glance and everyone read the truth in Robin's face.</p> + +<p>"Robin Forsyth—and you never breathed a <i>word</i>!" cried Beryl, not +knowing for the moment whether to give way to great joy or indignation +that her friend had not confided in her.</p> + +<p>With a quick little motion, Robin had slipped to Mother Lynch's chair +and, kneeling beside it, she buried her face against the woman's heart.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know—myself," came in muffled tones from the embrace.</p> + +<p>"Are you happy, mother?" asked Dale, boyishly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I did not know I could be happier—but, I am!" And Mother Moira +smiled through the tears that brimmed in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Beryl, staring at her mother and brother and her friend, suddenly gave +voice to a thought that had come with such significance as to sweep away +her girlish reserve.</p> + +<p>"Then it <i>isn't</i> Tom Granger at all! You don't care a <i>bit</i> about him?"</p> + +<p>Robin's face lifted. "About Tom? Oh, goodness me, no. Why, he isn't +worth Dale's little <i>finger</i>—Beryl Lynch, why do you ask me that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—nothing. Really, truly—" And Beryl escaped into the house.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Robin drove Dale back to the village. At the turn of the road near the +House of Laughter she stopped the car that they might enjoy for a moment +the twilight glow of the valley. Lights twinkled from the Mill houses +across the river. From the House of Laughter came the sound of singing. +A young crescent of a moon shone silvery against a purple blue sky.</p> + +<p>"Little Red-Robin," cried Dale, suddenly, "Are you very sure?"</p> + +<p>"Sure—of what?" Robin asked in a voice that trembled in spite of her.</p> + +<p>"Someday you will be a rich girl. I am a—working-man. What will the +world say? They may laugh at you!"</p> + +<p>Robin's chin lifted. Had she ever reckoned her gifts in dollars and +cents?</p> + +<p>"But you're my Prince!" she protested, proudly. "Don't you remember? +That night, a long, long time ago, when you took me home, I called +you—my Prince. You said, then, you couldn't stay with me—that I'd have +to find you. Well," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I have."</p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'> +"<i>The Books You Like to Read<br /> +at the Price You Like to Pay</i>"<br /> +</p> + +<p style='font-size: 160%; text-align: center'><i>There Are Two Sides to Everything</i>—</p> + +<p>—including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected +list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent +writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & +Dunlap book wrapper.</p> + +<p>You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from—books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook.</p> + +<p><i>Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to +the publishers for a complete catalog.</i></p> + +<p class='center'> +<i>There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book<br /> +for every mood and for every taste</i><br /> +</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>JANE ABBOTT'S STORIES FOR GIRLS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Abbott holds a unique place among the writers of fiction for young +girls. Her charming stories possess those same qualities of optimism and +high ideals for humanity that made the books of Louisa May Alcott so +popular. She never fails to create an atmosphere of happiness and the +spirit of Youth and Spring.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>RED ROBIN</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>In Robin Forsyth Mrs. Abbott has added a new and charming member to the +happy collection of young girls who have enlivened the pages of her +stories.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>APRILLY</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A charming story of a young girl and of the adventures which lead her to +her goal of happiness. The book is filled with that joyous spirit of +youth and spring that the title suggests.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>HIGHACRES</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A school story for girls full of vitality and enthusiasm. There is a +real plot and the girls introduced are sure to be interesting to the +reader.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>KEINETH</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Keineth is a life creation—within its covers the actual spirit of +youth. The book is of special interest to girls, but when a grown-up +gets hold of it there follows a one-session under the reading lamp with +"finis" at the end.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>LARKSPUR</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Especially interesting to any Girl Scout because it is the story of a +Girl Scout who is poor and has to help her mother.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>HAPPY HOUSE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The delightful story of two American girls, Ann and Nancy. They heal the +old family quarrel and the old homestead becomes a happy house.</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>THE NOVELS OF TEMPLE BAILEY</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE BLUE WINDOW</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The heroine, Hildegarde, finds herself transplanted from the middle +western farm to the gay social whirl of the East. She is almost swept +off her feet, but in the end she proves true blue.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>PEACOCK FEATHERS</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The eternal conflict between wealth and love. Jerry, the idealist who is +poor, loves Mimi, a beautiful, spoiled society girl.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE DIM LANTERN</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The romance of little Jane Barnes who is loved by two men.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE GAY COCKADE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Unusual short stories where Miss Bailey shows her keen knowledge of +character and environment, and how romance comes to different people.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE TRUMPETER SWAN</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Randy Paine comes back from France to the monotony of every-day affairs. +But the girl he loves shows him the beauty in the common place.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE TIN SOLDIER</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A man who wishes to serve his country, but is bound by a tie he cannot +in honor break—that's Derry. A girl who loves him, shares his +humiliation and helps him to win—that's Jean. Their love is the story.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>MISTRESS ANNE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A girl in Maryland teaches school, and believes that work is worthy +service. Two men come to the little community; one is weak, the other +strong, and both need Anne.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>CONTRARY MARY</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>An old-fashioned love story that is nevertheless modern.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>GLORY OF YOUTH</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A novel that deals with a question, old and yet ever new—how far should +an engagement of marriage bind two persons who discover they no longer +love.</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>MARGARET PEDLER'S NOVELS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p class='ulb'>TO-MORROW'S TANGLE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The game of love is fraught with danger. To win in the finest sense, it +must be played fairly.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>RED ASHES</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A gripping story of a doctor who failed in a crucial operation—and had +only himself to blame. Could the woman he loved forgive him?</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE BARBARIAN LOVER</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A love story based on the creed that the only important things between +birth and death are the courage to face life and the love to sweeten it.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE MOON OUT OF REACH</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Nan Davenant's problem is one that many a girl has faced—her own +happiness or her father's bond.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE HOUSE OF DREAMS-COME-TRUE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>How a man and a woman fulfilled a Gypsy's strange prophecy.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE HERMIT OF FAR END</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>How love made its way into a walled-in house and a walled-in heart.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE LAMP OF FATE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The story of a woman who tried to take all and give nothing.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE SPLENDID FOLLY</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from each +other?</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE VISION OF DESIRE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>An absorbing romance written with all that sense of feminine tenderness +that has given the novels of Margaret Pedler their universal appeal.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>WAVES OF DESTINY</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Each of these stories has the sharp impact of an emotional crisis—the +compressed quality of one of Margaret Pedler's widely popular novels.</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>THE NOVELS OF GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p> +A NEW NAME<br /> +ARIEL CUSTER<br /> +BEST MAN, THE<br /> +CITY OF FIRE, THE<br /> +CLOUDY JEWEL<br /> +DAWN OF THE MORNING<br /> +ENCHANTED BARN, THE<br /> +EXIT BETTY<br /> +FINDING OF JASPER HOLT, THE<br /> +GIRL FROM MONTANA, THE<br /> +LO, MICHAEL!<br /> +MAN OF THE DESERT, THE<br /> +MARCIA SCHUYLER<br /> +MIRANDA<br /> +MYSTERY OF MARY, THE<br /> +NOT UNDER THE LAW<br /> +PHOEBE DEANE<br /> +RE-CREATIONS<br /> +RED SIGNAL, THE<br /> +SEARCH, THE<br /> +STORY OF A WHIM, THE<br /> +TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME<br /> +TRYST, THE<br /> +VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS, A<br /> +WITNESS, THE<br /> +</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p> +THE MIDLANDER<br /> +THE FASCINATING STRANGER<br /> +GENTLE JULIA<br /> +ALICE ADAMS<br /> +RAMSEY MILHOLLAND<br /> +THE GUEST OF QUESNAY<br /> +THE TWO VAN REVELS<br /> +THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS<br /> +MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE<br /> +SEVENTEEN<br /> +PENROD<br /> +PENROD AND SAM<br /> +THE TURMOIL<br /> +THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA<br /> +THE FLIRT +</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline'>SISTERS.</span> Frontispiece by Frank Street.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful +story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice.</p> + +<p><span style='text-decoration:underline;'>JOSSELYN'S WIFE.</span> Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for happiness +and love.</p> + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline;'>MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED.</span> Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions.</p> + + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline;'>THE HEART OF RACHAEL.</span> Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. </p> + +<p class='blockquot'>An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come with a second +marriage.</p> + + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline;'>THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE.</span> Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure and +lonely, for the happiness of life.</p> + + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline;'>SATURDAY'S CHILD.</span> Frontispiece by E. Graham Cootes.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through sheer +determination to the better things for which her soul hungered?</p> + + +<p><span style='text-decoration: underline;'>MOTHER.</span> Illustrated by F. C. Yohn.</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background of every +girl's life, and some dreams which come true.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction</i></p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE KEEPER OF THE BEES </p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A gripping human novel everyone in your family will want to read.</p> + +<p class='ulb'>THE WHITE FLAG</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>How a young girl, singlehanded, fought against the power of the Morelands +who held the town of Ashwater in their grip.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The story of such a healthy, level-headed, balanced young woman that +it's a delightful experience to know her.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>In which Kate Bates fights for her freedom against long odds, renouncing +the easy path of luxury.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>FRECKLES</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A story of love in the limberlost that leaves a warm feeling about the +heart.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The sheer beauty of a girl's soul and the rich beauties of the out-of-doors +are in the pages of this book.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>THE HARVESTER</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The romance of a strong man and of Nature's fields and woods.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>LADDIE</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>Full of the charm of this author's "wild woods magic."</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A story of friendship and love out-of-doors.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>MICHAEL O'HALLORAN</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>A wholesome, humorous, tender love story.</p> + + +<p class='ulb'>THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL</p> + +<p class='blockquot'>The love idyl of the Cardinal and his mate, told with rare delicacy +and humor.</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p class='center'><span style='font-size:150%'>JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:80%; font-family: sans-serif;'>May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.</span></p> + +<p> +THE ANCIENT HIGHWAY<br /> +A GENTLEMAN OF COURAGE<br /> +THE ALASKAN<br /> +THE COUNTRY BEYOND<br /> +THE FLAMING FOREST<br /> +THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN<br /> +THE RIVER'S END<br /> +THE GOLDEN SNARE<br /> +NOMADS OF THE NORTH<br /> +KAZAN<br /> +BAREE, SON OF KAZAN<br /> +THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM<br /> +THE DANGER TRAIL<br /> +THE HUNTED WOMAN<br /> +THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH<br /> +THE GRIZZLY KING<br /> +ISOBEL<br /> +THE WOLF HUNTERS<br /> +THE GOLD HUNTERS<br /> +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE<br /> +BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY<br /> +</p> + +<p class='center'>GROSSET & DUNLAP, <span class="smcap">Publishers</span>, NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='tnote'> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<ol> +<li>Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.</li> +<li>The unusual long dash construction "— — — —" + on page 317 was retained as in the original.</li> +</ol> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Red-Robin, by Jane Abbott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED-ROBIN *** + +***** This file should be named 19057-h.htm or 19057-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/5/19057/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Red-Robin + +Author: Jane Abbott + +Illustrator: Harriet Roosevelt Richards + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #19057] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED-ROBIN *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +RED-ROBIN +BY +JANE ABBOTT + +AUTHOR OF KEINETH, HIGHACRES, APRILLY, Etc. + +With Illustrations By +HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS + +GROSSET & DUNLAP +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + +Made in the United States of America + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +[Illustration: THE EFFECT WAS VERY CHRISTMASY--Page 196] + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +TO BETSY + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + + Prologue--A Story Before the Story 11 + I. The Orphan Doll 19 + II. A Prince 28 + III. The House of Forsyth 39 + IV. Red-Robin 49 + V. Jimmie 61 + VI. The Forsyth Heir 70 + VII. Beryl 79 + VIII. Robin Asserts Herself 90 + IX. The Lynchs 103 + X. The Lady of the Rushing Waters 114 + XI. Pot Roast and Cabbage Salad 126 + XII. Robin Writes a Letter 138 + XIII. Susy Castle 151 + XIV. A Gift to the Queen 164 + XV. The Party 176 + XVI. Christmas at the Manor 190 + XVII. The House of Laughter 204 +XVIII. The Luckless Stocking 220 + XIX. Granny 235 + XX. Robin's Beginning 250 + XXI. At the Granger Mills 266 + XXII. The Green Beads 279 +XXIII. Robin's Rescue 292 + XXIV. Madame Forsyth Comes Home 305 + Epilogue--A Story After the Story 318 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +ILLUSTRATIONS + PAGE + +The Effect Was Very Christmasy Frontispiece +The Beautiful Little Girl Had Not Spoken To Her 20 +"Couldn't I Run Away With You?" 56 +"It's Like The House of Bread And Cake" 119 + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +RED-ROBIN + +PROLOGUE + +A STORY BEFORE THE STORY + + +On a green hillside a girl lay prone in the sweet grass, very still that +she might not, by the slightest quiver, disturb the beauty that was +about her. There was so very, very _much_ beauty--the sky, azure blue +overhead and paling where it touched the green-fringed earth; the +whispering tree under which she lay, the lush meadow grass, moving like +waves of a sea, the bird nesting above her, everything-- + +And Moira O'Donnell, who had never been farther than the boundaries of +her county, knew the whole world was beautiful, too. + +Behind her, hid in a hollow, stood the small cottage where, at that very +moment, her grandmother was preparing the evening meal. And, beyond, in +the village was the little old stone church and Father Murphy's square +bit of a house with its wide doorstep and its roof of thatch, and Widow +Mulligan's and the Denny's and the Finnegan's and all the others. + +Moira loved them all and loved the hospitable homes where there was +always, in spite of poverty, a bounty of good feeling. + +And before her, just beyond that last steep rise, was the sea. She could +hear its roar now, like a deep voice drowning the clearer pipe of the +winging birds and the shrill of the little grass creatures. Often she +went down to its edge, but at this hour she liked best to lie in the +grass and dream her dreams to its lifting music. + +Her dream always began with: "Oh, Moira O'Donnell, it's all yours! It's +all yours!" Which, of course, sounded like boasting, or a miser gloating +over his gold, and might have seemed very funny to anyone so stupid as +to see only the girl's shabby dress and her bare feet, gleaming like +white satin against the green of the grass. But no fine lady in that +land felt richer than Moira when she began her dreaming. + +Of late, her dreams were taking on new shapes, as though, with her +growth, they reached out, too. And today, as she lay very still in the +grass, something big, that was within her and yet had no substance, +lifted and sung up to the blue arch of the sky and on to the sun and +away westward with it, away like a bird in far flight. + +Beyond that golden horizon of heaving sea was everything one could +possibly want; Moira had heard that when she was a tiny girl. America, +the States, they were words that opened fairy doors. + +Father Murphy had told her much about that world beyond the sea. He had +visited it once; had spent six weeks with his sister who had married +and settled on a farm in the state of Ohio. His sister's husband had all +sorts of new-fangled machinery for plowing and seeding, and for his +reaping! And Father Murphy had told her of the free library that was in +the town near his sister's home, where he could sit all day and read to +his heart's content. + +Father Murphy (he had spent three whole days in New York) had made her +see the great buildings that were like granite giants towering over and +walling in the pigmy humanity that beat against their sides like the +rise and fall of the tide; he told her of the rush and roar of the +streets and of the trains that tore over one's head. + +And he told her of the loveliness that was there in picture and music. +Moira, listening, quivering with the longing to be fine and to do fine +things, could always see it all just as though magic hands swept aside +those miles of ocean dividing that land of marvel from her Ireland. + +That was why it was so simple to let her dream-mind climb up and away +westward. Her eyes, staring into the paling blue, saw beautiful things +and her thoughts revelled in delicious fancies. + +That slender, gold crowned bit of a cloud--_that_ was Destiny circling +her globe, weaving, and moulding, and shaping; Moira O'Donnell's own +humble thread was on her loom! And Destiny's face was turned westward. +Moira saw shining towers and thronged streets and fields greener than +her own. Far-off music sounded in her ears as though the world off there +just sang with gladness. And it was waiting for her--her. She saw +herself moving forward to it all with quick step and head high, going to +a beautiful goal. Sometimes that goal was a palace-place, encircled by +brilliant flowers, sometimes a farm like Father Murphy's sister's and a +husband who worked with marvelous contrivances, sometimes a free library +with all the books one could want, sometimes a dim, vaulted space +through which echoed exquisite music-- + +She so loved that make-believe Moira, moving forward toward glowing +things, that she cried aloud: "That's me! _Me!_" And of course her voice +broke the spell--the dream vanished; there was nothing left but the +fleecy cloud, the meadow lark's song, close by. + +There was just time enough before her grandmother needed her, to run +down to Father Murphy's. She knew at this hour she would find him by his +wide doorstep. Fleetly, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft earth, +she covered the distance to his house. She ran up behind him and slipped +her fingers over his half-closed eyes. + +He knew the familiar touch of the girl's hands. He patted them with his +own and moved aside on his bench that she might sit down with him. + +"Father," she said, very low, her eyes shining. "It's my dream again." + +The old priest did not chide her for idling, as her grandmother would +have done. The old priest dreamed, too. + +"Tell me," she went on. "Can one go to school over there as long as one +likes? Is it too grown-up I am to learn more things from books?" + +The old Father told her one could never be too old to learn from books. +He loved her craving for knowledge. Had he not taught her himself, since +she was twelve? He looked at her proudly. + +"Father!" She whispered now, and the rose flush deepened in her face. +"It's Danny Lynch that comes every evening to see me." + +Now Father Murphy turned squarely and regarded her with startled eyes. +This slip of a girl was the most precious colleen in his flock. + +"And, Father, it's of America _he_ talks all the time!" + +The old priest shivered as though from a chill. Sensing his feeling, +Moira caught his hand quickly and held it in a close grip. + +"But if I go away it's not forgetting you I'll be! Oh, who in all this +world has been a better friend to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moira +but you?" + +"Child--" + +"Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang to her feet and stood slimly +erect. "See?" + +He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest had not noticed. Moira--" he +caught her arm, leaned forward and peered into her face as though to +see through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it courage I have taught +ye? And honor? And faith?" + +Her heart was singing now over the secret she had shared with him. Who +would not have courage and faith when one was so happy? With a lift of +her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged away his seriousness. + +"If you could only see me, Father, as I am in my dream. Oh, it's +beautiful I am! And smart! And rich!" + +"Not money," broke in the priest with a ring of contempt. + +"Sure, no, not money! But fine things. Oh, Father," she clasped her +hands childishly. "It's fine things I want. The very finest in the +world! And I want my Danny to want them, too." + +"Fine things," he repeated slowly. "And will ye know the fine things +from the dross, child? That wealth is more times what ye give, aye, than +what ye get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart of you is +unselfish--" + +"What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking frogs in the Widow +Finnegan's pond you are! But, sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, as +real as real, as I lay dreaming--Destiny herself, as fine as you please, +sailing to the new world, a-spinning on her loom. She had Moira +O'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this +minute it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl's +eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but my +poor heart's so light it hurts--here." + +The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch it +bowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness in +the kindly eyes. + +"It's God's blessing I ask for ye--and yes, may your dream come true--" + +"Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered Moira. + +"For the both of ye!" + +"Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me and no blessing," laughed +the girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be +off, Father dear." + +"Wait." The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came out +carrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping +the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of green +beads. + +"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with the +youthful certainty that all lovely things were her due. + +"Yes. To remember my blessing." He regarded them fondly, lifted them +that she might see their beauty against the sun's glow. "'Twas in a +little shop in London I found the pretty things." + +Moira knew how much he must love them as a keepsake--that visit to +London was only next in his heart to the trip to America. She caught his +hands, beads, tissue wrappings and all. + +"Oh, it's precious they are! And you too!" + +The Father fastened them over the girl's shabby dress. "They are only +beads," he admonished. "But it's of this day they'll remind you." + +He watched Moira as she ran off down the lane. He noted the quick, sure +tread of her feet, the challenging poise of her head. "Colleen--" he +whispered with a smile. "Little colleen." He turned to his door and his +lips, even though they still twisted in a smile, moved as though in +prayer. + +"And may God keep pure the dream in the heart of ye!" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE ORPHAN DOLL + + +November--and a chill wind scurrying, snapping, biting, driving before +it fantastic scraps of paper, crackly leaves, a hail of fine cinders. An +early twilight, gray like a mist, enveloped the city in gloom. Through +it lights gleamed bravely from the grimy windows rising higher and +higher to the low-hanging clouds, each thin shaft beckoning and telling +of shelter and a warmth that was home. + +High over the heads of the hurrying humanity in a street of tenements +Moira Lynch lighted her lamp and set it close to the bare window. With +her it was a ceremony. She sang as she performed the little act. Without +were the shadows of the approaching night--gloom, storm, disaster, +perhaps even the evil fairies; her lamp would scatter them all with its +glow, just as her song drove the worries from her heart. + +Her lamp lighted, she paused for a moment, her head forward, listening. +Then at the sound of a light step she sprang to the door and threw it +open. A wee slip of a girl, almost one with the shadows of the dingy +hallway, ran into her arms. + +"And it's so late you are, dearie! And so dark it's grown--and cold. +Your poor little hands are blue. Why, what have you here, hidin' under +your shawl? Beryl Lynch! Dear love us--a doll!" With a laugh that was +like a tinkling of low pitched bells the little mother drew the treasure +from its hiding place. But as her eyes swept the silken splendor of the +raiment her merriment changed to wonder and then to fear. + +"You didn't--you didn't--oh, Beryl Lynch, you--" + +"Steal it? No. Give me it. I--found it." + +But the terror still darkened the mother's eyes. + +"And where did you find it?" + +"On the bench. She left it. She forgot it. Ain't it mine now?" +pleadingly. "I waited, honest, but she didn't come back." + +Mrs. Lynch was examining the small wonder with timid fingers, lifting +fold after fold of shining satin and dainty muslin. + +"Who was she?" she asked. + +"A kid." Little Beryl kindled to the interest of her story. Had not +something very thrilling happened in her simple life--a life the +greatest interest of which was to carry to the store each day the small +bundle of crocheted lace which her mother made. "She was a swell kid. +She played in the park, waitin' for a big man." + +"Did she talk to you?" breathlessly. + +Beryl avoided this question. The beautiful little girl had _not_ spoken +to her, though she had hung by very close, inviting an approach with +hungry eyes. + +"She was just a little kid," loftily. Then, "Ain't the doll mine?" + +Mrs. Lynch patted down the outermost garment. "Yes, it's yours it is, +darlin'. At least--" she hesitated over a fleeting sense of justice, +"maybe the little stranger will be a-coming back for her doll. It's a +fair bit of dolly and it's lonesome and weeping the little mother may be +this very minute--" + +Beryl reached out eager arms. + +"It's an orphan doll. I'll love it _hard_. Give me it. Oh," with a +breath that was like a whistle. "_Ain't_ she lovely? Mom, is she _too_ +lovely for us?" + +The timid question brought a quick change in the mother's face, a +kindling of a fire within the mother breast. She straightened her +slender body. + +"And if there's anything too good for my girlie I'd like to see it! +Isn't this the land where all men are equal and my girl and boy shall +have a school as good as the best and grow up to be maybe the President +himself?" She repeated the words softly as though they made a creed, +learned carefully and with supreme faith. Why had she come, indeed, to +this crowded, noisy city from her fair home meadows if not for this +promise it held out to her? + +"And isn't your brother the head of his class?" she finished +triumphantly. "And it's smarter than ever you'll be yourself with your +little books. Oh, childy!" She caught the little girl, doll and all, +into an impulsive embrace. + +From it Beryl wriggled to a practical curiosity as to supper. She +sniffed. Her mother nodded. + +"Stew! And with _dumplin's_--" She made it sound like fairy food. "Ready +to the beating when your father comes." + +"Where's Dale? And Pop?" + +"It's Dale's night at the store. And Pop'll be comin' along any minute. +I've set the lamp for him." + +"I'm hungry," Beryl complained. She sat down cross-legged on the +spotless scrap of carpeting and proceeded with infinite tenderness to +disrobe the doll. + +"Do you think she will like it here?" she asked suddenly, looking about +the humble room which for the Lynch's, served as parlor, dining-room and +kitchen. Now its bareness lay wrapped in a kindly shadow through which +glinted diamond sparks from much-scrubbed tin. "It's _nice_--" Beryl +meditated. She loved this hour, she loved the singing tea-kettle and the +smell of strong soap and her mother's face in the lamplight, with all +the loud noises of the street hushed, and the ugliness outside hidden by +the closed door, against the paintless boards of which had been nailed a +flaming poster inviting the nation's youth to join the Navy. + +"But maybe this home'll be--too different," she finished. + +The mother's eyes grew moist with a quick tenderness. Her Beryl, with +this wonder of a dolly in her arms! Her mind flashed over the last +Christmas and the one before that when Beryl had asked Santa Claus for a +"real doll" and had cried on Christmas morning because the cheap little +bit of dolldom which the mother had bought out of her meagre savings +would not open or shut its eyes. And now--the impudent heart of the +blessed child worrying that the home wasn't good enough for the likes of +the doll! + +"It's a good home for her where it's loving you are to her. It's the +heart and not the gold that counts. And who knows--maybe it's a bit of +luck the dolly'll be a-bringing." + +As though a word of familiar portent had been uttered Beryl lifted a +face upon which was reflected the glow of the little mother's. Babe as +she was, she knew something of the mother's faith in the fickle god of +chance, a faith that helped the little woman over the rough places, that +never failed to brighten her deepest gloom. Did she not staunchly +believe that someday by a turn of good fortune she and her Danny would +know the America and the good things of which they had dreamed, sitting +in the gloaming of their Ireland, their lover's hands close clasped? But +for that hope why would they have left their dear hillsides with the +homely life and the kindly neighbors and good Father Murphy who had +taught her from his own dog-eared books because she was eager and quick +to learn? Through the fourteen years since they had come to America +those girl-and-boy dreams had gone sadly astray, but the little wife +still clung to the faith that they'd have the good things sometime, her +Danny would get a better job and if he didn't there was young Dale, +always at the head of his class in school and even the baby Beryl, as +quick as anything to pick out words from her little books. + +"A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. Her eyes grew round and +excited. "Then I can ride all day on a 'bus and go to the Zoo, can't I? +And can I have a new coat with fur? And go to Coney? And shoot the +shoots? And can Dale ride a horse? And can Dale and me go across the +river where it's like--that?" nodding to the poster. + +Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's anticipations. The +floor creaked and the kettle sang louder than before. + +"That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave girl you'll be, going +to school and learning more than even poor old Father Murphy knew, God +love him. And by and by--" + +But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked her words. That slow +tread was not her big Danny nor the young Dale! At a knock she flew to +the door. + +"Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence." She caught the old man who stood +on the threshold and laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraid +I was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't home yet but you shall +stay and eat dumplin's with us--the best outside of our Ireland--" + +[Illustration: THE BEAUTIFUL LITTLE GIRL HAD _NOT_ SPOKEN TO HER] + +"No! No!" protested the old man, regretfully. "My old woman's waitin'! +_Bad_ news! It's _good_ news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman of +the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and that +Dan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin' +home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at the +pleasant odor from the stove. + +"A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira Lynch caught her hands together. +"It's the good luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on the +docks works harder than my big Dan." Her eyes shone like two stars. + +"Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so I'll go along. +Good-night, Mrs. Lynch." + +"God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered Moira, too overcome to manage +her voice. + +Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught the +wondering Beryl into her arms. + +"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be to +have doubted. My big Dan!" + +"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interrupted +Beryl, round-eyed. + +"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone she would have used if +she had said "a king." She-danced about until the floor creaked +threateningly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. And it's fine +and beautiful my girl shall be with a dress as good as the next one. +Wait! Wait!" She flew into the tiny bedroom, returning in a moment with +a small box in her hands. From it she lifted a string of round green +beads and held them laughingly before Beryl's staring eyes. + +"My beads! You shall wear them this night. It's the good old Father's +blessing." She clasped them about Beryl's neck, fingering them tenderly. + +"Pretty beads. Pretty beads," cried the little girl. + +Suddenly quieted by a rush of memories Mrs. Lynch sat down and took +Beryl upon her lap. "Beryl darlin', was the likes of that other little +girl--the one who forgot the dolly--fine and beautiful?" + +"Oh, yes!" The child's voice carried a note of wonder. + +"And you shall be fine and beautiful, too, Moira Lynch's own girl, just +as I used to dream for my own self, the selfish likes o' me. You shall +go to school and learn from good books. Didn't the old Father tell me of +the fine schools he had seen when he visited his sister in America? And +anybody can go--anybody!" + +Little Beryl felt that it was a solemn moment. She lifted serious eyes. +"I promise," she drawled, with a gravity out of all proportion to her +six years, "I promise to go to school and learn lots like Dale and be +fine and boo'ful so's my 'dopted dolly will like me as well as--that +other kid. I've gotta be good 'nough for her. So there." + +The child could not comprehend the obstacles which might threaten such a +standard; she stared bravely into the unblinking eyes of the doll who +smiled back her graven smile. + +Then: "I'm hungry," she declared, suddenly deciding that dumplings were +more important than anything else. "And can my Dolly sit in Pop's seat?" + +"That she can," cried the mother, going to her "mixin'." "And what a gay +supper it will be--with the new dolly and the pretty beads and the +dumplin's. Oh, Himself a foreman!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A PRINCE + + +Promptly at nine o'clock, young Dale Lynch turned the key in the door of +"Tony Sebastino, Groceries" and started, whistling, homeward. Three +times a week, from the close of school until nine o'clock, he worked in +the store, snatching a dinner of bananas, or bread and cheese, between +customers. Because "Mom" had whispered that there were to be "dumplin's" +this night and that she would keep some warm for him, and because the +wind whipped chillingly through his thin clothing, he broke into a run. + +His homeward way led him past a bit of open triangle which in the +neighborhood was dignified by the name of park, a dreary place now, +dirty straw stacked about the fountain, dry leaves and papers cluttering +the brown earth and whipping against the iron palings of the fence. +Dale, still whistling, turned its corner and ran, full-tilt, upon a bit +of humanity clinging, like the paper and leaves, to the fence. + +"Giminy Gee!" Dale jumped back in alarm. Then: "Did I scare you, kid? +Oh, say, what's the matter?" For the face that turned to his was red and +swollen with weeping. "Y'lost?" This was Dale's natural conclusion, for +the hour was late, and the child a very small one. + +"I lost--my Cynthia." + +"Your--_what_?" + +"My--my Cynthia. She's my b-bestest doll. I forgot her." The voice +trailed off in a wail. + +Dale, touched by her woe, looked about him. Certainly no Cynthia was +visible. By rapid questioning on his part he drew from her the story of +her desertion. She had played a nice game of running 'round and 'round +and counting the "things," waiting for Mr. Tony; Cynthia did not like to +run because it shook her eyes, so she had put her down on the edge of +the straw where the wind would not blow on her. And then Mr. Tony had +come and had told her to "hustle along" and she "had runned away and +for-g-got Cynthia!" + +"Well, I guess she's somebody else's Cynthia now, kid. Things don't stay +long in the parks 'round here." + +Dale seemed so very old and very wise that the tiny girl listened to his +verdict with blanching face. He knew, of course. + +"Where d'you live?" demanded Dale. "Why, you're just a baby! Anybody +with you?" + +The child pointed rather uncertainly to one of the intersecting streets. + +"I come that way," she said, then, even while saying it, began to wonder +if that were the way she had come. The streets all looked so much +alike. She had run along the curb, so as to be as far away as possible +from the dark alley ways and the doors. And it had been a long way. + +Her lip quivered though she would not cry. After Cynthia's fate, just to +be lost herself did not matter. + +"Well, don't you know where you live? What's the street? I'll take you +home." + +"22 Patchin Place," lisped the child. + +Dale hesitated a moment to make sure of his bearings. "Well, then, come +along. I know where that is. And you forget 'bout your Cynthia. You've +got another doll, haven't you? If you haven't, you just ask Santa Claus +for one. Why, say, kiddo, what's this? You lame?" For the little girl +skipped jerkily at his side. + +"That's just the way I'm made," the child answered, quite indifferent to +the shocked note in the boy's voice. "I can walk and run, but I go +crooked." + +"What's your name?" + +"Robin Forsyth." She made it sound like "Wobbin Force." + +"Oh, Wobbin Force. Funny name, isn't it? And what's your Ma and Pa going +to say to you for running off?" + +Putting a small hand trustingly into the boy's big one, the child +skipped along at his side. "Oh, nothing," she answered, lost in an +admiring contemplation of her rescuer. "What's they, anyway?" + +"A Ma? Don't you know what your mother is?" + +Little Robin met his astonishment with a ripple of laughter. "Oh a +_mother_! I had a lovely, lovely mother once but she's gone away--to +Heaven. And is a Pa a Jimmie?" + +"A--what?" Dale had never met such a strange child. + +"'Cause Jimmie's my Parent. I call him Parent sometimes and sometimes I +call him Jimmie." + +If his companion had not been so very small Dale might have suspected an +attempt at "kidding." He glanced sidewise and suspiciously at her but +all he saw was a cherub face framed in a tilted sky-blue tam-o'shanter +and straggling ends of flaming red hair. + +"Jimmie won't scold me. _He'd_ want me to try to find Cynthia." Robin +smothered a sigh. "He wasn't home anyway." + +"D'you live all alone? You and your Jimmie?" + +"Oh, yes, only Aunt Milly's downstairs and Grandpa Jones is 'cross the +hall, so I'm never 'fraid. They're not my really truly aunt's and +grandfather's--I just call them that. And Jimmie leaves the light +burning anyway. What's your name? And are you very old? Are you a man +like Jimmie?" + +Dale, warming under the adoration he saw on the small face, felt very +big and very manly. He returned the little squeeze that tugged on his +hand. + +"Oh, I'm a big fellow," he answered. + +"You look awful nice," the little girl pursued. "Just like one of my +make-believe Princes. I wish you lived with Jimmie and me. I wouldn't +mind Cynthia then." + +"But the Princes never lived with the little girls in the stories, you +know," argued Dale, finding it a very pleasant and unusual sensation to +act the role of a Prince even to a very small girl. "You have to find +me, you see." + +Miss Robin jumped with joy. "Oh, goody, goody! I'll always make b'lieve +you are a Prince and I'll find you and you must find me, too. You will, +won't you?" + +"You just bet I will," promised Dale, easily. "Here's your street." He +stopped to study the house numbers. Suddenly a door flew open wide and a +bareheaded man plunged into the street, almost tumbling upon them. + +"Robin! Good gracious! I thought you were--stolen--lost--" + +Robin, very calm, clasped him about his knee. + +"I _was_ lost, Jimmie. But this very big boy brought me home. He's a +Prince--I mean he's my make-believe Prince." + +"But, Robin--" The man turned from the child to Dale. + +"I found her way down by Sheridan Square. She was hunting for her doll +she'd left there." + +"While I was walking with Mr. Tony this afternoon I played in the park +and I forgot Cynthia." + +"Good Heavens--and you went way off there all by yourself to find the +thing?" + +In her pride of Dale, Robin overlooked the slur on Cynthia. + +"I went alone," she repeated, "but I came home with my Prince." + +Gradually Robin's father was recovering from his shock. The muscles of +his face relaxed; he ran his fingers through his thick hair, red like +the child's, with a gesture of throwing off some horrible nightmare. To +Dale he looked very boyish--with a little of Robin's own cherubic +expression. + +"Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And you must promise not to do +it again. Why, I can't ever leave you alone unless you do." + +He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to leave the little Robin +under the doubtful protection her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end grateful +to you, my boy. If there's anything I can do for you--" He slipped one +hand mechanically into his pocket. + +"_I_ don't want anything." Dale spoke curtly and stepped back. "It +wasn't any bother; it's a nice night to walk." + +With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that her gallant Prince +was about to slip out of her sight. Her Jimmie had pulled his hand from +his pocket and was extending it to the boy. He was not even inviting him +to come in and smoke like he always invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and all +the others. But of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway. + +She waited until her father had finished his thanks, then, stepping up +to Dale, she reached out two small arms and by holding on to Dale's, +drew herself up almost to the boy's chin. Upon it she pressed a shy, +warm kiss. + +"Good-bye, Prince. You will hunt for me, won't you? Promise! Cross your +heart!" + +Dale, flaming red, confused, promised that he would, then wheeled and +stalked off down the street. After he had rounded the corner he lifted +his arm and wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. Then he stuck +his hands deep in his pockets and whistled loudly. But after a moment, +at a recollection of sky-blue eyes underneath a sky-blue tam-o'shanter, +he chuckled softly. "A Prince! Gee, some Prince!" But his head +instinctively went higher at the honor thrust upon him. + +When he returned from the store, Dale usually found his mother sitting +by the lamp crocheting. But tonight everything was different; scarcely +had he stopped at their landing before the little mother, quite +transformed, rushed to greet him and tell him the wonderful bit of good +fortune. + +Before it his own adventure was forgotten. + +"And it's only a beginning it is--it's the superintendent he'll be in no +time at all, at all," finished Mrs. Lynch. + +"And we can move? And I can join the Boy Scouts? And go to camp next +summer? And have a pair of roller skates?" + +Mrs. Lynch nodded her head to each question. Behind each note of her +voice rippled a laugh. "Yes, yes, yes. Sure, it's a wonderful night this +is." + +"Where's Pop now?" + +"Working with the extra shift," the wife answered, proudly. + +"Any dumplings?" eagerly. + +"And I was forgetting! Bless the heart of you, of course I saved the +biggest. 'Twas like a party tonight for I dressed your sister in the +beads. It's worn out she is, God love her, with the excitement and +trying to keep her wee eyes open 'til her Pop come home. Hushee or +you'll waken the lamb now." + +Dale was deep in thought choosing the words with which he would tell the +good news to the "fellows" on the morrow, his mother was busying herself +with the "biggest" dumpling, when a peremptory knock came at the door. +With a quick cry Mrs. Lynch dropped her spoon--why should anything +intrude upon their joy this night? + +A man stood on the threshold presenting a curious figure for he wore a +heavy coat over a white duck suit. Where had she seen such a suit +before? With a catch at her heart she remembered--at the hospital, that +time Dale had been run over. "Oh!" she cried. "My Dan!" + +"Mrs. Lynch?" The hospital attendant spoke quickly as one would who had +a disagreeable task and must dispose of it without any delay. "Your +husband's had an accident--he's alive, but--you'd better come." + +Mrs. Lynch stood very still in the centre of the room--her hand +clutching her throat as though to stifle the scream that tore it. + +"My Dan--hurt!" She trembled but stood very straight. "Quick, Dale, we +must go to him. My Dan. No, no, you stay with Beryl. Oh, _hurry_!" she +implored the interne, rushing bareheaded past him down the stairway. +"_Hurry._" + +For a few moments Dale stared at the half-open door. In his thirteen +years he had experienced the pinch of poverty, even hunger, the pain of +injury, but never this overwhelming fear of something, he did not know +what. Pop, his big, strong Pop--hurt! Pop, who could swing him even now, +that he measured five feet three himself, to his shoulder! Oh, no, no, +it could not be true! Someone had made a mistake. Someone had cruelly +frightened his mother. Hadn't their luck just come? Hadn't Pop been made +a boss? + +"Mom-ma!" came Beryl's voice, sleepily, from the other room. "Mom-ma, +what's they?" Glad of anything to do Dale rushed to quiet his little +sister. He bade her, brokenly, to "never mind and go to sleep," and he +pulled the old blanket up tight to her chin, his eyes so blinded with +tears that he did not see the waxen head pillowed close to Beryl's. + +Then he sat in his mother's chair and dropped his head upon the table +and waited, his hands clenched at his side. + +"I _won't_ cry! I _won't_ be a baby! Mom'll maybe need me. I'm big now!" +he muttered, finding a little comfort in the sound of his own voice. + + * * * * * + +Poor Robin's Prince; alas, he felt very young and helpless before the +trouble which he faced. + +Big Dan Lynch, he who had been the fairest and sturdiest of the county +of Moira's girlhood, would never work again--as superintendent or even +foreman; the rest of his days must be spent in the wheeled chair sent up +by the sympathetic Miss Lewis of the Neighborhood Settlement House. It +was fixed with a contrivance so that he could move it about the small +room. + +Little Beryl started school which made up for a great deal that had +suddenly been taken from her life, for mother never sat by the lamp, +now, or crocheted. She worked at the Settlement House all day and all +evening busied herself with her home tasks. + +The "lucky dolly" Beryl hid away in paper wrappings. Somehow, young as +she was, she knew her mother could not bear the sight of it. + +And Dale worked every day at Tony's, going to night school on the +evenings when he had used to go to the store. A tightening about the +lips, an older seriousness in the lad's eyes alone told what it had cost +him to give up his ambition to graduate with his class, perhaps at its +head. + +Little Robin with the sky-blue eyes was quite forgotten! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH + + +It was a time-honored custom at Gray Manor that Harkness should serve +tea at half-past four in the Chinese room. + +On this day--another November day, ten years after the events of the +last chapter--Harkness slipped through the heavy curtains with his tray +and interrupted Madame Forsyth, mistress of Gray Manor, in deep confab +with her legal advisor, Cornelius Allendyce. + +Mr. Allendyce was just saying, crisply, "Will your mind not rest easier +for knowing that the Forsyth fortune will go to a Forsyth?" when +Harkness rattled the cups. + +Then, strangest of all things, Madame ordered him sharply away with his +tray. + +Such a thing had never happened before in Harkness' experience and he +had been at Gray Manor for fifty-five years. He grumbled complainingly +to Mrs. Budge, the housekeeper, and to Florrie, Madame's own maid, who +was having a sip of tea with Mrs. Budge in the cosy warmth of the +kitchen. + +Florrie asserted that she could tell them a story or two of Madame's +whims and cranks--only it would not become her, inasmuch as Madame was +old and a woman to be pitied. "Poor thing, with this curse on the +house, who wouldn't have jumps and fidgets? I don't see I'm sure how any +of us stand it." But Florrie spoke with a hint of satisfaction--as +though proud to serve where there was a "curse." Harkness and Mrs. +Budge, who had lived at Gray Manor when things were happier, sighed. + +"It's an heir they be talking about now," Harkness admitted. + +"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Budge and Florrie in one breath. + +Up in the Chinese room Madame Forsyth was saying; "Do you think any +child of that--branch of the family--could take the place of--" + +"Oh, dear Madame," interrupted the lawyer. "I am not suggesting such a +thing! I know how impossible that would be. But on my own responsibility +I have made investigations and I have ascertained that your husband's +nephew has the one child. The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtless +has his ups and downs--most artists do. Now I suggest--" + +"That I take this--child--" + +Mr. Allendyce tactfully ignored the scorn in her voice. "Exactly," he +purred. "Exactly. Gordon is the child's name. A very nice name, I am +sure." + +"The child of an obscure artist--" + +"Ah, but, Madame, blood is blood. A Forsyth--" + +"P'ff!" Madame made a sound like rock hitting rock. Indeed, as she sat +there, her narrow eyes gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lips +tightly compressed, she looked much more like rock than flesh-and-blood. + +Her explosion had the effect of exasperating the little lawyer out of +his habitual attitude of conciliation. + +"Madame, I can do no more than advise you in this matter. I have traced +down this child as a possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, you +have it in your power to will otherwise. But let me say this--not as a +lawyer but as your friend. You are growing old. Will you not find, +perhaps, more happiness in your old age, if you bring a little youth +into this melancholy old house--" + +"I must ask you to withhold your kind wishes until some other time," +interrupted Madame, dryly. "I am at present seeking your advice as a +lawyer. I have not been regardless of the fact that the House of Forsyth +must have an heir; I have been thinking of it for a long time--in fact, +that is all there is left for me to do. And, though it is exceedingly +distasteful to me, I see the justice in seeking out one of--that family. +But, it must be done in my way. My mind is quite made up to that. You +say there is a--child. I wish you to communicate with this child's +father--this relative of my husband, and inform him that I will make +this child my heir provided he can be brought to Gray Manor at once. He +will live for one year here under your guardianship. I will send for +Percival Tubbs who, you may remember, tutored my grandson. Doubtless he +is old-fogyish but from his long association with our family he knows +the Forsyth traditions and what the head of the House of Forsyth should +be. He will know whether this boy can be trained to measure up to it. +If, after a year, he does not, he must go back--to his father. I will be +fair, of course, as far as money goes. If he does--" She stopped +suddenly, her stony demeanor broken. The thin lips quivered at the +thought of that sunny south room in the great house where had been left +untouched the toys, the books, the games, the precious trophies, the +guns and racquets, golf sticks and gloves which marked each development +of her beloved grandson. + +"A very fair plan," murmured the lawyer. + +"You have not heard all," went on Madame Forsyth in such a strange voice +that Cornelius Allendyce looked up at her in astonishment. "I am going +away." + +"You! Where?" exclaimed the man. He could not quite believe his ears. + +"That I do not care to divulge." She enjoyed his amazement. "I am +yielding to a restlessness which in a younger woman you would +understand, but which in me you would no doubt term--crazy. I am going +to run away--to some new place, where, for awhile, no one will know +whether I am the rich Madame Christopher Forsyth or the poor Mrs. John +Smith. Oh, I shall be quite safe; at my bank they will be able to find +me if anything happens. Norris has had entire charge of the mills for a +long time. And Budge and Harkness can take care of things here." + +"Madame," the lawyer was moved out of his customary reserve, "are you +not possibly running away from what may bring you happiness--and +comfort?" + +For the space of a moment the real heart of the woman shone in her eyes. + +"I _am_ running away. I might learn to love this boy and he might not be +what the head of the house of Forsyth _should_ be and I would have to +send him back. And my heart has been torn enough. It is tired. I have a +whim to find new places--new things--to rest--and forget all this." + +There was an interval of silence. Then Mr. Allendyce, lifting his eyes +from the patent-leather tips of his shoes, said quietly: + +"I will carry out your commands to the best of my ability." + +There followed, then, a great deal of discussion over details. And, +while carefully jotting figures and memoranda in a neat, morocco bound +note-book, the little man of law felt as though he were writing the +opening chapters of some fairy-tale. + +Yet there was little of the fairy-tale in the old, empty house, a +melancholy house in spite of its wealth of treasure, brought from every +country on the globe. And there was nothing of romance in the Forsyth +family which had come over to Connecticut from England in the early days +of its settlement and had left to all the Forsyths to come, not only the +beginnings of the Forsyth factory where thread was made by the millions +of spools, and the Forsyth fortune, amassed by those same spools, but +also a deal of that courage which had helped those pioneers endure the +hardships and meet the obstacles of the early days. + +Her business at an end, Madame expressed embarrassment at her +inhospitality in denying Mr. Allendyce his cup of tea. Would he not stay +and dine with her? Mr. Allendyce did not in the least desire to dine +alone with his client but the Wassumsic Inn was an uninviting place and +New York was a three hours' ride away. So he accepted with a polite show +of pleasure and assured Madame that he could amuse himself in the +library while she dressed for dinner. + +Left to himself, the lawyer fell to pacing the velvety length of the +library floor. This led him to one of the long windows. He stopped and +looked out through it across the sloping lawns which surrounded the +house. A low ribbon of glow hung over the edge of the hills which lay to +the west of the town. Silhouetted against it was the ragged line of +roofs and stacks which were the Forsyth Mills. Familiar with them +through years of business association, the little man of law visualized +them now as clearly as though they did not lay wrapped in evening +shadow; he saw the ugly, age-old walls, the glaring brick of the new +additions, the dingy yards, the silver thread of the river and across +that the rows upon rows of tiny houses piled against one another, each +like its neighbor even to the broken pickets surrounding squares of +cinder ground. He knew, although his eyes could not see, that these +yards even now were hung with the lines of everlasting washing, that men +lounged on those back doorsteps and smoked and talked while women worked +within preparing the evening meals. These human beings were machines in +the gigantic industry upon which the House of Forsyth was founded. Did +Madame ever think of them as flesh and blood mortals--like herself? +Cornelius Allendyce smiled at the question; oh, no, the Forsyth +tradition, of which Madame talked, built an impenetrable wall between +her and those toilers. + +Staring at the gray hard line of shadow that was the tallest of the +chimneys the man thought how like it was to Madame and old Christopher +Forsyth. His long connection with the family and the family interests +gave the lawyer an intimate understanding of them and all that had +happened to them. And it had been much. Mr. Allendyce himself often +spoke of the "curse" of Gray Manor. Christopher Forsyth and Madame had +had one son, Christopher Junior. Allendyce could recall the elaborate +festivities that had marked the boy's coming of age, the almost royal +pomp of his wedding. Three years after that wedding the young man and +his wife had been drowned while cruising with friends off the coast of +Southern California. + +This terrible blow might have crushed old Christopher but for the +toddling youngster who was Christopher the Third. The grandfather and +grandmother shut themselves away in Gray Manor with the one purpose in +life--to bring up Christopher the Third to take his place at the head of +the House of Forsyth. + +At this point in his reflections Mr. Allendyce's heart gave a quick +throb of pity--he knew what that handsome lad had been to the old +couple. He thought now how merciful it had been that old Christopher had +died before that cruel accident on the football field in which the lad +had been fatally injured. The brunt of the blow had fallen upon Madame. +And after the boy's death, a gloom had settled over her and the old +house which nothing had seemed able to dispel. As a last desperate +resort the lawyer had suggested, with a courage that cost considerable +effort, the finding of this other heir. + +Mr. Allendyce had known very little of that "other branch" of the +family. Old Christopher had had a younger half-brother, Charles, who, at +the time Christopher took over the responsibilities of the head of the +family, went off to South America where he married a young Spanish girl. +And from the moment of that "low" marriage, as old Christopher had +called it, to the investigation by Mr. Allendyce's agents, nothing had +been heard at Gray Manor of this Charles Forsyth. + +It had cost considerable money to trace him down but, accomplished, Mr. +Allendyce had with satisfaction tabulated the results in his neat little +note-book. Charles had died leaving one son, James. James had one child, +Gordon. They lived at 22 Patchin Place, New York City. + +The thought of the fairy story flashed back into the lawyer's mind. He +knew his New York and he knew Patchin Place, where poverty and ambition +elbowed one another, and squalor stabbed at the heart of beauty. This +Gordon Forsyth had his childhood amid this, lived on the rise and fall +of an artist's day-by-day fortune. Now he would be taken from all that, +brought to Gray Manor, put under special tutorage, so that, some day he +could step into that other lad's place. If that didn't equal an Arabian +Night's tale! + +"I'll go down to Patchin Place myself. I'd like to see their faces when +I tell them!" he declared aloud, with a tingle within his heart that was +a thrill although the little man did not know it. + +Harkness coughed behind him. He turned quickly. Harkness bowed stiffly. +"Madame awaits you in the drawing-room." + +The little man-of-the-law's chin went out. "Madame awaits--" Poor old +Madame; she would not have known how to come in and say "Let us go out +to dinner." There had to be all the ceremony and fuss--or it would not +have been Gray Manor and Madame Christopher Forsyth. + +"All right. I'll find her," Mr. Allendyce growled. Then he was startled +out of his usual composure by catching the suggestion of a twinkle in +the Harkness eye which, of course, should not be in a Forsyth butler's +eye at all. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +RED-ROBIN + + +For twenty-five years Cornelius Allendyce had worn nothing but black +ties. On the morning of his contemplated invasion of Patchin Place in +search of a Forsyth heir he knotted a lavender scarf about his neck and +felt oddly excited. Such a sudden and unexplainable impulse, he thought, +must portend adventure. + +With a notion that all artists were "at home" at tea time, Mr. Allendyce +waited until four o'clock before he approached his agreeable task. At +the door of 22 Patchin Place he dismissed his taxicab and stood for a +moment surveying the dilapidated front of the building--with a moment's +mental picture of the magnificent pile that was Gray Manor. + +A pretentious though slightly soiled register just inside the doorway, +told him that "James Forsyth" lived on the fifth floor, so the little +man toiled resolutely up the narrow, steep stairway, puffing as he +ascended. It was necessary to count the landings to know, in the dimness +of the hallway, when he reached the fifth floor. He had to pause outside +the door to catch his breath; a moment's nausea seized him at the smell +of stale food and damp walls. + +But at his knock the door swung back upon so much sunshine and color +that the little man blinked in amazement. A mite of a girl with a halo +of sun-red hair smiled at him in a very friendly fashion. + +"Does Mr. James Forsyth live here?" It seemed almost ridiculous to ask +the question for surely it must be some witch's cranny upon which he had +stumbled. + +"Yes. But Jimmie isn't home. Won't you come in?" + +Mr. Allendyce stared about the room--a big room, its size enhanced by +the great glass windows and the glass skylight. Everywhere bloomed +flowers in gayly painted boxes and pots and tubs. And after another +blink Mr. Allendyce perceived that there were a few real chairs, very +shabby, and a table covered with a cloth woven in brilliant colors and +some very lovely pictures hanging wherever, because of the windows and +the sloping roof, there was any place to hang them. + +The young girl closed the door, whereupon there came a gay chirping from +birds perching, the bewildered lawyer discovered, in various places +around the room quite as though this corner of a tenement was a +woodland. + +"Hush, Bo, hush. They're dreadfully noisy. They love company. Won't you +sit down?" + +Mr. Allendyce sat gingerly upon the nearest chair. His companion pulled +one up close to him. He perceived with something of a shock that she +limped and at this discovery he looked at her again and drew in a quick +breath. + +Why, here was the oddest little thing he had ever seen. He had thought +her a child, yet the wide eyes, set deep and of the blue of midnight, +had a quaint seriousness and understanding; in the corner of her lips +lingered a tender droop oddly at variance with the childish dimple of +the finely moulded chin. Though the girl's red hair--like flame, as the +lawyer had first thought, gave her an alive look, the little form under +the queer straight dress was diminutive to frailty. + +"Who are you, my dear?" + +"Robin Forsyth. Jimmie calls me Red-Robin because I hop when I walk." + +"Is Jimmie your--" + +"He's my Parent. Do you know Jimmie?" + +"N-no, not--exactly." The little man was wondering how his investigators +had failed to report this young girl. + +"Jimmie ought to be here soon. He went out to sell a picture to old Mrs. +Wycke. She wanted it but she wanted it cheap, Jimmie says. But we didn't +have anything to eat today so he took the picture to her and he's going +to bring back some cake and ice cream. We'll have a party. Will you +stay?" + +"Good heavens," thought Allendyce, startled at her astonishing +frankness. He reached out and patted the small hand. + +"You are very kind. Does your Jimmie sell--many pictures?" + +"Not many--I heard him and Mr. Tony talking. Mr. Tony's his best friend. +If it were not for me Jimmie'd go away with Mr. Tony. Mr. Tony writes, +you see, and he wants Jimmie to illustrate for him." + +"And where is your brother Gordon?" + +Robin stared. "My--brother--Gordon?" + +"Yes. Gordon--" + +"_I_ am Gordon." + +"You!" + +"My real name is Gordon but Jimmie doesn't like it. He always said it +was too formal for a little girl. So he calls me Red-Robin and he says +he'll never call me anything else. Why do you look so funny?" + +For Mr. Allendyce seemed to have crumpled together and to be quite +speechless. + +"Don't _you_ think I'm too, oh, sort of insignificant, to be Gordon? I +like Robin much better." + +The lawyer did not hear her. Here was a fine balking of all his and +Madame's plans. The Forsyth heir! That that heir should be a girl had +never entered their calculations. And a little lame girl at that; Mr. +Allendyce suddenly recalled how Madame had worshipped the splendid +manliness of young Christopher the Third. + +"Is there anything the matter with you, Mr.--why, you haven't told me +your name!" + +With a tremendous effort Cornelius Allendyce pulled himself together. He +flushed under the wondering wide-eyed scrutiny of his companion, who +reached out and laid a small, warm hand upon his. + +"You're not ill, are you?" with solicitude. + +"No--no, my dear. No, I am not ill. But I am upset. You see--I came +here--well, I call it--a most interesting story. Up in Connecticut +there's a small town and a very big mill which has been there for ever +so long, heaping up millions of dollars. And there's a very big house +there that looks like a castle because it's built of gray stone and is +up on a hill--it has everything but the moat itself. And an old lady +lives there all alone." The lawyer paused, a little frightened at a wild +thought that was persistently creeping up over his sensibilities. It +must be the lavender tie or the witchery of the flowers and the absurd +chirping birds. + + +"Oh, that's the old Dragon!" cried Robin, delightedly, with a chuckle as +though she knew all about the old lady and the lonely castle. "That's +what Jimmie calls her--poor old thing. Jimmie says she must be +dreadfully unhappy in that lonely old house after all that's happened +there." + +"Do you--do you mean that--you _know_--" + +"About those rich Forsyth's? Why, of course. That's Jimmie's pet +story--about his terrible relatives." + +"But your father has never--" + +"Seen her? Oh, no. Jimmie's very proud, you see. And he thinks one good +picture is worth more than any old fortune or mill or anything. Oh, +Jimmie's wonderful. Why, we wouldn't trade our little home here for two +of her castles! Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. He says money +kills genius. Only--" She stopped abruptly, flushing. + +"Only what, my dear--" + +"I ought not to rattle on like this to you. Jimmie says I +am--sometimes--_too_ friendly. I suppose it's because I don't know many +people. But I wish I just had a _little_ money. You see _I'm_ not a bit +of a genius. I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my mother did--or do +a single thing." + +Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that he wriggled on the +rickety chair until it creaked threateningly. + +"If you had money, Miss Gordon--what would you do?" + +"Why I'd run away." She answered with startling promptness. "Oh, I don't +mean that I'm not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. But I'm a +girl and I'm lame, so I'm a--a millstone 'round Jimmie's neck!" + +"What in the world--" + +"_Promise_ you won't ever tell him what I'm saying. Oh, he'd feel +dreadfully. You see it's just that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame and +he won't believe that I don't mind a bit--why, I can run and do +everything--and he won't ever go anywhere without me. And an artist +shouldn't have to be tied down; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, when +Jimmie was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now Mr. Tony's going off +for a long cruise in the South Seas on a sailing boat and he wants +Jimmie to go with him. He's going to write stories and he says if Jimmie +sees it all he will make his fortune painting pictures. And he can +illustrate the stories, too. And Jimmie won't go because he won't leave +me. Don't you see what I'd do if I had some money? I'd run away +somewhere and tell Jimmie that he must go with Mr. Tony." + +Mr. Allendyce sprang to his feet and paced up and down the room. In all +his life the world had never seemed so full of youth and color and +adventure as it did at that precise moment; his cautious soul fairly +burst with imaginative daring. + +"Miss Gordon--that's what I came for. I mean, I came to tell this Gordon +Forsyth that the old lady, Madame Forsyth, wanted him to come to Gray +Manor to live--for a year. He's to be tutored there. And if at the end +of a year he is a--" + +"But there isn't any he! Gordon's me." + +"I know. I know. But a Forsyth's a Forsyth." + +"You mean--_I_ might go to--the castle--" + +"Yes, why not? Madame--and I--just took it for granted that you were a +boy, because of your name. But our mistake does not make you any less a +Forsyth or less a possible heir--" The thought was a full-fledged idea +now! + +"Who _are_ you?" broke in Robin, excitedly. + +"I am Cornelius Allendyce, attorney for the Forsyth family. And I am--if +your father consents--your future guardian." + +"Oh, Jimmie'll _never_ consent, never!" + +"Why not?" pressed the lawyer. "You say you have no--particular genius +to be killed by--money." + +"Would it mean that I'd have to give Jimmie up forever?" + +"No, my dear. Indeed no. Madame's plan is that you are to go to Gray +Manor under my guardianship to live for a year. At the end of that time, +if she is satisfied--Why, your father would simply give up any claim--" + +"Oh, you don't know Jimmie. He'd never do it, unless--" she paused, her +eyes suddenly wet, "unless--_I_--gave _him_ up. All his life he's made +sacrifices and given up things for me--big chances. So now--couldn't I +run away with you--and then write and tell him?" + +The Cornelius Allendyce who had lived up to that moment of crossing the +threshold of this fifth-floor witchery would have scorned such a +suggestion as "ridiculous! ridiculous!" But the Cornelius Allendyce of +the lavender tie saw mad possibilities in such a step. Take the girl to +Gray Manor and settle with Mr. James Forsyth afterwards. + +[Illustration: "COULDN'T I RUN AWAY WITH YOU?"] + +"Couldn't I?" + +"Why--yes, if you think your father would accept the situation--when he +knew." + +"Oh, I'd tell him he _had_ to, that he must go away with Mr. Tony. And +he'd go. But, Mr. Allendyce--I couldn't go tonight. I just couldn't let +Jimmie come back with the ice cream and cake and maybe a pumpkin pie +and--not find me here. Our parties are such fun. If you'll come tomorrow +at three o'clock--I'll be ready. But what will the Dragon say when she +sees that I'm a girl?" + +Mr. Allendyce suddenly laughed aloud. The whole thing was so very +simple. Madame only waited a telegram from him to set forth upon her +travels. Why let her know that Gordon was a girl until the year had +passed? + +"We will not worry about that, my dear. Madame is going away. She will +not be back at Gray Manor for a long time. I will call at +three--tomorrow. I trust you will make your Jimmie understand. You know +this is a very unusual step--there are some who might call it +abduction--" + +"Oh, Jimmie wouldn't!" assured Robin. "Not when I tell him why I'm +running away." + +Robin had answered him so indifferently that Cornelius Allendyce felt her +mind was working out a plan for the morrow. He gave a last look about +the room as though he wished to carry away a perfect impression of it, +then patted the girl on the shoulder. + +"Here is my card and the telephone number of my office. If you decide +that this step is--too irregular, if perhaps we ought to talk with your +father first--" + +"No! No!" cried Robin. "That would spoil everything!" + +Down in the street Cornelius Allendyce waved off a persistent taxi +driver, deciding that he needed the vent of exercise to bring him back +to earth. And as he hurried along he felt a curious elation, as though +for the first time he enjoyed a zest in living. As a lawyer his life had +been necessarily cut-and-dried; there had been little room for +adventuring. And now, in a brief half-hour, he had let himself into the +wildest sort of conspiracy. (He stopped suddenly and mopped his +forehead.) He was planning to deliberately deceive Madame Forsyth, to +steal a young and very unusual girl from her parent--and, to assume the +guardianship of this same runaway. Where would it all end? + +But in that half-hour just past something must have happened to the +little man's conscience for even after the startling summing up, he +laughed and walked on with a step lighter than before. + + * * * * * + +Back on the fifth floor of the old house in Patchin Place Robin leaned +over the table writing a letter. Her task was made the more difficult +because of the tears which blinded her eyes. + +"Jimmie, I love you more than anything in the world but I am going to +run away and leave you. I am going to the Dragon. She wants an heir. I +am going to live in the castle and have a tutor. And my guardian is +going to be the Dragon's lawyer--he's ever so nice and fathery--so you +see I will be looked after as well as can be. Jimmie dearest-darling, +you must not worry about me or try to make me come back for I'll be all +right and you must go away with Mr. Tony and paint lots and I'll be so +proud. And please, please Jimmie, make Aunt Milly promise to take care +of the birds and the flowers for they mustn't die. And you will write to +me, won't you? Good-bye, Jimmie, don't forget your hot milk at night. +Yours always and always, Red-Robin." + +She had just signed the letter when James Forsyth opened the door. She +thrust it into her pocket as she turned to meet him. + +"Oh, _Jimmie_!" she cried, for under his arm he carried the picture he +had taken to sell to Mrs. Wycke. + +"She didn't want it," he explained, testily. + +The girl had been well schooled in disappointment; not the slightest +shadow now crossed her face. + +"_Someone_ will, Jimmie," she declared, brightly, taking the heavy +package from him. "And you said yourself Mrs. Wycke couldn't tell a +chromo from a masterpiece. We don't want her to have our picture anyway. +I'm not a bit hungry--are you, Jimmie? Let's sit here all cosy and you +read to me--" and thinking of the note that lay in her pocket, she +reached up very suddenly and kissed her Jimmie to hide the break in her +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JIMMIE + + +Robin found running away amazingly simple. Poor Jimmie, at her urging, +went out quite unsuspecting. She was so excited and there was so much to +be done at the last moment, that she had no time to think what the +parting with all she loved so dearly must mean to her. + +Promptly at three o'clock Cornelius Allendyce tapped on the door. His +face was very red and moist and his hand, as he reached out for Robin's +bag, shook, but Robin did not notice all that; she slipped quickly +through the door and shut it behind her, as though fearful that at the +last moment she might find it impossible to go. + +Out in the thin sunshine, whirring through the traffic of the crowded +streets, neither spoke for breathlessness. Cornelius Allendyce stared at +the buildings and swallowed at regular intervals to steady his nerves--a +trick he had always found most helpful in important legal trials. Robin +kept her eyes glued on the back of the taxi driver's head but he might +have had two heads and one upside down for all she noticed. Her hands in +her lap were clenched very tight and her lips were pressed in a +straight, thin, resolute line. + +But as they kept on past Forty-second street and headed toward Central +Park West the lawyer explained that he was taking her to his own home +for the night. + +"My sister will make you quite comfortable. Tomorrow we will go out to +Wassumsic." He did not say that it was important, too, to give Madame +Forsyth ample opportunity to get away from Gray Manor. + +Robin drew a long breath and relaxed. It had taken so very much courage +to run away that she had little left with which to face her new life. +Tomorrow it might be easier. + +Miss Effie Allendyce took her under her wing in a fluttery, mothery sort +of a way with a great many "my dear's." + +"I suppose," the lawyer had said, looking at the two, "you, Effie, will +have to get Miss Forsyth some clothes tomorrow--" + +"Clothes," Robin cried, astonished. "I--brought some." + +"Well, you probably ought to have some other kind. You see, my dear, you +are a Forsyth of Gray Manor now." He turned to his sister. "Effie, can +you get all she needs--everything, before tomorrow at three o'clock?" + +Effie's eyes danced at such a task--indeed, she could. She knew a shop +where she could buy everything that a girl might need. + +"Well, I'll leave you two to make out lists. Isn't that what you have to +do?" + +So, for a few hours the making of these amazing lists kept Robin's +thoughts from that little fifth floor home and Jimmie. Miss Effie began +with shoes and finished with hats, with little abbreviations in brackets +to include caps and scarfs and all sorts of things. "It is very cold in +Wassumsic," she explained, "and you will live a great deal out of doors. +It is very lovely," she added, making a round period after "sweater." + +And there was another list which included a wrist watch and a writing +set. "They can send on most of these things," she pondered. + +Robin slyly pinched herself to know that she was still a +living-breathing girl; all seemed as unreal as though she had slipped +away into a magician's world. + +But the lists completed, dinner over, alone with her new guardian, an +overwhelming loneliness swept her. Cornelius Allendyce, turning from a +protracted study of the blazing fire, was startled to find the girl's +head pillowed in her arm, her shoulders shaking with smothered sobs. + +"My dear! My dear!" he exclaimed, very much as Miss Effie would have +done. + +"I--I can't help it. I tried--" + +Poor Robin looked so very small in the big chair that remorse seized +Cornelius Allendyce. How could he have taken this little girl from her +corner, shabby as it was? + +It was not too late-- + +"Miss Gordon," he began a little uneasily, wondering what guardians did +when their wards were hysterical. "My dear, don't cry, I beg of you. +Come, it is not too late to go back. We will explain--" + +Robin lifted her head. "I--I don't want to go back. But I was thinking +of Jimmie. He must be awfully lonesome--now. You see you don't know +Jimmie. He depends on me to remind him of things like his hot milk. And +just at first, it will be hard. But, no, no, I don't want to go back." + +"Then I would suggest that you go to bed. You are doubtless very tired +from the excitement of everything. And tomorrow will be a busy day--and +an interesting day." + +Robin drew herself slowly from the chair. She limped over to the divan +upon which Cornelius Allendyce sat. Her eyes were very steady, dark with +earnestness. + +"I'm ashamed I cried. I won't do it again. But I want you to know, oh, +you must know, that I'm not going to Gray Manor because of all those +clothes and the money or anything like that. There could not be anything +at Gray Manor as nice as Jimmie's and my bird-cage. But I want Jimmie to +have his chance--" + +Left alone, Cornelius Allendyce found himself haunted by Robin's "Jimmie +must be awfully lonesome." What a strange pair--the quaint old-young +girl living in a world which circled around this father--the father, by +the girl's own assertion, "depending" upon the girl. And little Robin, +scarcely more than a child, realizing that she hindered the man's +development, talking about giving him "his chance" and at such cost--and +promising that she would not cry again. "There's bravery for you!" +muttered the lawyer aloud. + +He believed that Miss Effie's lists of finery and knick-knacks held +little attraction for the girl. + +He recalled Madame Forsyth's scornful "that other branch of the family." +Yet this James Forsyth and Gordon had lived for years and often in want +in New York City, and had never approached Madame for as much as a +penny. Robin had said Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. Could he +paint if he lost her? + +Suddenly Cornelius Allendyce had a vivid understanding of the tie that +bound these two. And it was unthinkable that this man would let the girl +go and do nothing. Yet it was not of any possible embarrassment _he_ +might suffer that Cornelius Allendyce thought at this moment; it was of +the heartbreak of the father. He had not considered him at all; carried +away by a mad impulse he had let himself listen to a child and had lost +his own sense of justice. Why, it had been rank robbery! He must go to +this man at once. Muttering to himself he went in search of his hat and +coat. + + * * * * * + +For the third time the little lawyer climbed the flights of stairs at 22 +Patchin Place. And this time, so eager was he to square himself with +Robin's Jimmie, he ran up the steps. He knocked twice and when no one +answered he opened the door quietly and walked in. + +A man sat at the little table, his head dropped in his outflung arms. +Cornelius Allendyce knew it was Jimmie. Another man stood over him, his +face flushed with impatience. "Mr. Tony," thought the lawyer. He was +evidently just drawing breath after a heated argument. + +"Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I knocked but I do not think you heard +me." Allendyce stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed out of +place at this moment. "I am Cornelius Allendyce," he finished humbly and +guiltily. "I came back to--explain." + +James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement as though he would spring +at the little lawyer's throat. Mr. Tony held him back. + +"Jimmie--wait. Let him talk." + +"It was Miss Robin's wish to slip away without telling you. She said +you would not let her go and she had quite made up her mind to give +you--what she calls--your chance. She has an idea that she ties you +down--" + +Jimmie choked as a sob strangled in his throat. His anger suddenly +melted to abjection. Mr. Tony laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and +turned to the lawyer. + +"The girl is right. She's a wonderful little thing. She always could see +further ahead than her Dad. I have been telling my pal that this is the +best thing all around that could happen--a fine bit of luck for +everyone. Robin will go up to Gray Manor and be as happy and safe as can +be and her father can travel and work--the way Robin wants him to. Robin +took rather unusual means to gain her end but--well, she knew what she +was doing." + +Jimmie turned to Cornelius Allendyce and studied his face with a +desperate keenness. + +"She isn't like other children," he began slowly. "Poor little crooked +kiddie. She's sensitive. I've kept her away from everything that could +hurt her. I've tried--to make up to her. I thought she was happy; I did +not know she guessed--or knew--" + +Mr. Tony had taken a few steps down the room. He wheeled now and came +back with a set expression on his face as though he had to say something +disagreeable and must get it over with. + +"Jimmie, suppose, just for once, you look your soul straight in the +eye--honest. Now isn't it the artist heart of you that's hurt by Robin's +crooked little body--and not the child? Don't you keep her shut up in +here because, when people stare at her--_you_ suffer? Have you been fair +to her? Oh, yes--you love her, all right. Well, then, let her go. Robin +thinks she's giving you your chance--well, _I_ say, give the girl her +own." + +"I tell you Robin's different--she doesn't want money or clothes!" + +"Well, pretty things--and good food--can make even a 'different' girl's +heart lighter. Come, old man, go off with me on this cruise and work +your head off and at the end of the year--if Robin's not happy there, +well, you can make other plans. I'm like Robin, I believe that give you +a year, you'll do something rather big." + +James Forsyth suddenly lifted a face so boyishly helpless, so defeated, +that Allendyce's heart went out to him. He understood, all at once, what +little Robin had meant when she had said, "You don't know Jimmie!" He +certainly was not like other men. + +"I feel such a--quitter. I promised Robin's mother--I'd make up to the +child for her being lame--the way _she_ would have, if she'd lived. And +I've failed. Why, only last night she went to bed hungry." There +followed a moment of tense silence, then the man went on dully, in a +tone that implied yielding. "I suppose I may know all the circumstances +that led up to--this." + +Cornelius Allendyce proceeded to tell everything from the day of his +interview with Madame to the moment of his consternation upon +discovering that Gordon Forsyth was a girl and not a boy. He repeated +word for word Robin's and his conspiring; he described their flight and +Robin's break down in his library. + +"She had not lost courage--oh, no. But she was thinking of you. She was +afraid you'd forget to take your hot milk at night or something like +that," he finished simply. + +There were other details for the lawyer to explain to James Forsyth, +having to do with allowances and schooling. Then, when everything had +been said that was necessary to be said, James Forsyth rose wearily. + +"If that's all, I'd like it if you two would leave me here--alone." He +held out his hand to Mr. Allendyce. "Understand, if she's not happy--" + +"Our agreement ends." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE FORSYTH HEIR + + +Harkness' mother had once lived in an English duke's family and Harkness +had been brought up on stories of the ceremonious life there. Therefore +he considered it quite fitting that he should take upon himself the +planning for the reception of the Forsyth heir. + +"I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave waited," he grumbled to +Mrs. Budge. "To 'ave the poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seem +right. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do everything--'" + +"Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just come down from dusting +the "boy's" room. The familiar "clutter," as she had always called it, +had roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face was streaked now +and red. "'Pears to me most you do is talk--and talk big. It's Harkness +this and Harkness that! To be sure _my_ mother was a plain New England +woman--" + +"Now, Budge, now, Budge," interrupted Harkness, consolingly. "No one as +I know is going to dispute that your mother was a plain New England +woman. And we're not going to quarrel at such a rememberable moment, not +we. And we're going to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting a +Forsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the door--you must stand +at the head of the long line of servants--" + +"Long line of servants! And where do you expect to get them, I'd like to +know? Things have been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since the +gloom came. And that new piece from the village ain't worth her salt's +far as work goes." + +Poor Harkness had to recognize the truth of what Budge said. Since the +"gloom" things _had_ been going at sixes and sevens--inexperienced help +called up from the village to fill any need. He was not to be daunted, +however; there were the gardener and the undergardener and the chauffeur +and the stableman and they had wives who might be induced to put on +their Sunday clothes and join in the ceremonial--all in all, they could +make a fair showing. + +Into the plans for the dinner Mrs. Budge threw herself with her whole +heart. There must be young turkey and cranberry sauce, and a tasty salad +and a good old New England pumpkin pie, which she would make herself, +and ice cream and little cakes with colored frosting--oh, Budge knew +what a boy liked. + +And Harkness would brighten the great dark hall with bitter-sweet and +deck the gloomy rooms with flowers--he knew what was proper for the +coming of the heir of the House of Forsyth. + +"Like as not," Budge said, "'twill be the end to this curse." + +So the two old retainers, their hearts full of hope for a new happiness +over Gray Manor, labored until the old house shone and bloomed for the +coming of Gordon Forsyth. And a few minutes before the hour of arrival, +the gardener and the undergardener and the stableman and their wives +came in, breathless with importance; Chloe, the old colored cook, +appeared in a brand new turban and 'kerchief. Mrs. Budge, her gray hair +brushed back tighter than ever, donned her black silk which she had not +worn since young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and took her place at +the head of the line just a foot or two behind Harkness who, of course, +had the honor of opening the door. + +Mrs. Budge, however, watched the service door at the end of the long +hall with fretful eyes. "That piece," she confided to Harkness, the +moment not being so important as to still her grumbling, "said she +wouldn't come in. And when I told her she could just choose t'wixt this +and the door she said she wouldn't dress up, anyways. Impertinent chit! +Thinks she's too good for the place. Things _have_ gone to sixes and +sevens--" + +Harkness was holding his watch in his hand. And just as he shut it with +a significant click, a tall dark-haired girl in a plain gingham dress +slipped into the room and took her place at the end of the line, at the +same moment casting a defiant glance at the knot which adorned the back +of Mrs. Budge's head. + +Above the low murmur of voices came the throb of a motor. + +"It's him!" cried Harkness, a catch in his voice. Mrs. Budge shut her +eyes tight from sheer nervousness. There was a visible straightening and +a rustling of the line. Then Harkness threw the door open and bent low. + +On the threshold stood a small girl; her eyes, under the fringe of red +hair, wide with excitement, frightened. + +Harkness had opened his lips for his little speech of welcome but the +first sound died with a cackle in his throat, leaving his mouth agape. +He stared at the little creature and beyond her at Cornelius Allendyce, +who was superintending the unloading of several bags and boxes. + +Where was Gordon Forsyth? + +Turning, Mr. Allendyce, at one glance, took in the situation. He bustled +up the steps, and thrust a bag in Harkness' limp hand. + +"Well, we're here!" he cried cheerily, ignoring the amazement and +disappointment that fairly tingled in the air. "And a fine welcome +you're giving us!" He turned to Robin, who stood rooted to the +threshold. "My dear, these people have served the Forsyths faithfully +and for a long time. Harkness, this is Gordon Forsyth. Mrs. Budge--" + +He drew aside to let Robin enter. And Robin, conscious of startled, +curious eyes upon her, limped into her new home. Harkness, because he +had to do something, closed the door slowly behind her. + +"I'm sure--we were expecting--" he mumbled. + +Mr. Allendyce imperiously waved off whatever Harkness was expecting. + +"We hope, Mrs. Budge, you are prepared for two hungry people. We lunched +very early and the ride here is always tiresome. In Madame's absence, I +am sure you will take care of Miss Gordon and--me." There was the finest +inflection on the "miss." "I shall stay a day or two. Robin, my dear, +this is your new home." + +Robin had been biting her lips to keep them steady. There was something +so terrible in the great hall, the broad stair that lost itself in a +cavern of darkness above, the brilliant lights, the staring faces. Her +eyes swept from Mrs. Budge's stony face down the line and crossed the +curious glance of the dark-haired girl in the gingham dress. Robin's +brightened, for the girl was young, but the girl flushed a dark red, +tossed her head and stalked through the narrow service door out of the +room. + +Robin turned to Cornelius Allendyce and clung to his arm. He seemed the +one nice friendly thing in the whole place. And, as though he knew how +she felt, he patted her hand in a way that seemed to say, "Courage, my +dear." + +Mrs. Budge recovered her tongue. "She'll not be wanting the young +_master's_ room," she said crisply. "Madame's orders--" + +"I would suggest that Miss Gordon decide for herself what room she will +have." The lawyer's voice carried a rebuke that was not lost upon the +housekeeper. "Harkness, carry the bags upstairs and Miss Gordon and I +will follow." + +So Harkness' reception line broke up; the gardener and the undergardener +and their wives following Mrs. Budge's stiff back out through the +service door while Harkness led Robin and her new guardian up the broad +stairway. + +In the kitchen, for very want of strength, Mrs. Budge flopped into a +chair. + +"Sixes and sevens!" she gasped. "I'll say that things _are_ just going +to sixes and sevens. I've always distrusted all lawyer-men and this one +ain't a bit different. Bringing a _girl_ here, and a cripple. Did you +ever hear the like?" She looked from one to the other of Harkness' +retainers and answered herself with the same breath. "You never did. +Don't know when I've been so flabbergasted. Mebbe she's a Forsyth but +she ain't a worth-while Forsyth. She ain't. As if a girl could step into +our boy's shoes." She sniffed audibly. "She don't take in Hannah Budge." + +When Harkness appeared there was a fresh outburst and a reiteration that +Hannah Budge "wasn't going to be taken in by a piece no bigger'n a pint +of cider." + +"Well, the girl's here--and hungry," Harkness retorted with meaning +abruptness. + +A sense of duty never failed to spur poor Budge. She rose, now, quickly. +"Humph, like as not with everything else going to sixes and sevens that +old Chloe's forgot her turkey," and with a heavy sigh that fairly +rattled the stiff silk on her bosom she went off in search of the cook. + +Robin found much difficulty in choosing her room for they all seemed +equally lovely in the perfection of their furnishings. She had stood for +a moment in the door of the south room that had been Christopher the +Third's. "Here's where they'd have put you if you were a boy," her new +guardian had told her. In spite of Mrs. Budge's efforts at cleaning and +dusting, a melancholy hung over the room and about all the boyish things +there was such a sense of waiting that Robin was glad to turn away. +Finally she decided upon a west room the windows of which overlooked the +valley and the hills beyond. + +"Oh, wouldn't Jimmie love that?" she had cried, lingering in one of the +windows. "He loves hills, and doesn't that river look like a silver +ribbon tying the brown fields?" + +The bedroom opened on one side into a sitting room with a bay window, on +the other into a tiny bathroom, shining and gleaming with nickel and +tile. + +"Oh, everything's _lovely_," and Robin ecstatically clasped her hands. +"Only what'll I ever do with everything so big!" + +Cornelius Allendyce laughed at her dismay. To be sure he had not spent +his life in such tiny quarters as the bird cage and he could not +understand the girl's state of mind. + +"My dear, after a little everything will seem quite natural. And +remember--everything is at your command. This is your home. You are +Gordon Forsyth. You will not have time to be lonely." + +Robin's serious face suddenly broke into a bright smile. She patted the +garland of roses which held back the silk hangings. + +"I just had the funniest feeling, as if I were not me at all but all of +a sudden someone else. Ever since I was a very little girl I've often +played that I lived a make-believe story--I make it like all the fairy +stories jumbled together. And I fit all the people I know into the +different characters. Jimmie lets me play it because I am alone so much +and it keeps me happy. Sometimes he even plays it with me. It makes +horrid things seem nice. And Jimmie never wanted me to know the boys and +girls at school--because I'm lame, I guess--so I always pretended things +about them and gave them names. You should have seen Bluebeard." She +laughed at the recollection. "And now I'm going on playing. I'm the +little beggar-maid who awakens to find her self in the castle. Do you +suppose there's a fairy godmother somewhere? And--a prince?" + +And Cornelius Allendyce who had never read a fairy story in his life, +let alone acted one, laughed with her. + +"Yes, this is another chapter in your story." + +"Oh, and don't you wish we could just peek to the end and see how it all +turns out? But that isn't fair. And we couldn't--anyway." + +Her new guardian shook his head. "No, we couldn't--anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BERYL + + +A bell tinkling somewhere in the house wakened Robin the next morning. +Through the flowered chintz curtains of her window the sun shone with a +warmth out of all keeping with the time of the year, throwing such a +joyous glow about everything in the room that she rubbed her eyes to be +sure she was not dreaming. + +The evening before, everything had seemed so strange that Robin had not +been able to take in small things; now an immense curiosity to explore +Gray Manor, and the grounds that were like Central Park, and the little +town, and the hills around it, seized her. She slipped her feet out of +bed and into the satin slippers which had been one of Miss Effie's +purchases. She dressed with feverish haste, rebuking herself for having +slept so late, for her new wrist watch told her it was after ten +o'clock. + +Ten o'clock--why, on Patchin Place the morning was almost over at that +hour, the streets about thundering with the work of the day. And here it +was as still as night, or as--a church on a weekday, Robin thought. + +Dressed, she opened the door of her room very quietly and peeped +curiously out. And there in the wide hall, dusting an old highboy, was +the girl with the dark hair. + +"Hullo!" exclaimed Robin, delighted at the encounter. + +The girl stared for a moment. She was tall and thin; her eyes so +intensely blue as to look black and startling in their contrast to the +whiteness of her skin. They were brooding, smoldering eyes and a too +frequent scowl was making tiny lines between the straight black +eyebrows. + +"Isn't this the wonderfulest morning?" Robin advanced, stepping nearer. +"What is your name? I'm Robin--I mean Gordon Forsyth." + +"I know that. My name's Beryl but I guess it doesn't make much +difference to you what I'm called. The man who came with you's waiting +downstairs." + +In spite of this rebuff Robin lingered for a moment, hopeful of a +pleasanter word. But the girl Beryl shouldered her duster and marched +off, head high. + +"I'm going to find out more about her right off," determined Robin as +she went in search of her guardian. + +The big rooms below, like her own room, looked very different in the +morning light, even cheery. Mr. Allendyce greeted her with a smile and +Harkness' "Good-morning, Miss Gordon," had pleasant warmth. It was fun +to sit in the high-backed chair before the shining silver and the +flowers and to choose between grapefruit and frosted orange juice. So +fascinated was Robin that she forgot for the time, her interest in the +girl she had encountered upstairs. + +"Well, what do you think of Gray Manor in daylight?" asked Mr. Allendyce +as the two walked into the library. + +"Oh, it's more like a great castle than ever. But it isn't--half as bad +as I thought it was." When Robin caught the amused twinkle in her +guardian's eye she added hastily: "I mean, it isn't gloomy and sad at +all. It's so beautiful--and I love beautiful things." + +Mr. Allendyce thought suddenly that it was the first time for a long +time _he_ had seen these rooms when they had not seemed overhung with +melancholy. But he checked any expression of the thought; instead he +took Robin on a tour through the library and drawing rooms, pointing out +to her the treasures which had been brought from every corner of the +world. There were rare tapestries and bronzes, and tiny ivory carvings +and tables inlaid with bright jade and old crystal candelabra, and +quaint chests and wonderful paintings and rare old books. As he told the +story of each, Cornelius Allendyce marvelled at the girl's quick +appreciation and intelligent interest. Her Jimmie had evidently gathered +travelled people about him and Robin had been always a sharp listener. + +Then Harkness interrupted their pleasant occupation by appealing to +Robin for "his orders" with such a comical solemnity that Robin had +difficulty suppressing a nervous giggle. Her guardian came to her rescue +with the suggestion that they drive about the town and the mills, have +an early tea and an early dinner and dispense with luncheon. + +"Must I tell him every day just what I want?" thought Robin, in dismay. + +The girl's active imagination could well picture the imposing motor +which came to the door as a coach-and-four, resplendent with regal +trappings. And, cuddled in the wolf-skin robes, flying over the frosty +roads which wound through the hills, it was very easy to feel like a +princess from one of her own stories. + +Only the mills spoiled her lovely day. The evening before they had +loomed obscurely and interestingly but in broad daylight they were ugly. +The great chimneys belched black smoke into the beautiful blue of the +sky; the monotonous drone of many machines jarred the hillside quiet. +Everything was so dusty and dirty--even the tiny houses where the men +lived. Robin, brought up though she had been in Patchin Place, turned in +disgust from the dreary ugliness about her. + +"Does it have to be like that?" she asked her guardian. + +"Like what?" + +"Oh--dirty. And so dreary. And noisy." + +Her guardian laughed. "I'm afraid it does. Work is mostly always +drab--like that. And you see it has grown like a giant. There--there's +the giant for your fairy story, my dear. And giants are usually ugly, +aren't they?" + +"Yes, always." Robin spoke with conviction. As they rode on she looked +back over her shoulder. "I'm glad we can't stop today. This ride has +been so lovely that I'd hate to spoil it by--seeing the Giant up close." + +"Giants are very powerful. And usually very rich." Cornelius Allendyce +enjoyed the fancy. + +"Yes--and they crush and kill, too." + +"But didn't a Jack climb something or other and overcome one of them in +his lair?" + +At this Robin laughed and then forgot, for the time being, the mills and +the dirty houses; when Mr. Allendyce hoped Mrs. Budge would give them a +very big tea party, she realized she was hungrier than she had ever been +before. + +So full had been each moment of her first day at Gray Manor that it was +not until she sat curled in the big divan before the library fire, a +book of colored plates of Italian gardens across her lap that she +thought of her determination to know more of the girl who had called +herself Beryl. + +Harkness stood at the long table putting it in order. Harkness seemed +always moving things about just so as to put them back in place again. + +"Mr. Harkness." + +"Yes, Miss Gordon." + +"Do I know everybody here?" + +"Why--I'm sure--What do you mean, Miss Gordon?" + +"I saw a young girl last night. And I met her in the hall today. Who's +she?" + +"That's a person from the village, Miss Gordon. I don't know as I've +heard her name. Budge mostly calls her a piece. I don't think Budge is +satisfied with her." + +"You mean she works here?" + +"Yes, Miss Gordon. At least now. She helps Budge. Budge is getting on, +you see. I don't know as I've heard the miss' name. Is there anything +more, Miss Gordon?" + +Harkness had a warm heart under his faded livery and it went out now to +Robin because she looked very small and very much alone in the big room. +He had heard Mrs. Budge's hostile sputter and he knew the lawyer man was +going the next day; little Miss Gordon would be quite without friends at +Gray Manor. So he stepped closer to the divan and in a very human, +friendly way he added: "Excuse me if I'm so bold as to say, you just +count on old Harkness if you want anything, missy." + +Robin caught the kindliness in the man's voice. "Oh, thank you, Mr. +Harkness. I'll be so glad to have you for a friend. And won't you +please call me Robin? You see everyone who's ever liked me real well +called me that and it'll make me feel homey here." + +"Well, just between _us_, Miss--Robin." And the old man went off with a +mysterious smile that even Budge's sour face could not dispel. + +The house was very still. Mr. Allendyce was in his room writing some +letters. The early dinner had been over for sometime. Robin wondered +what Beryl was doing now and where she was--probably upstairs somewhere. + +"I'll go and find her!" + +This was more easily said than done for Gray Manor had wiggly wings and +corridors turning in every direction and little stairs here and there so +that one first went up and then down and then up again. Robin had almost +given up her search and had just about decided she was lost, for turn +whichever way she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard the +harsh, scraping strains of a violin, vibrant with stormy feeling. + +"I'll find that and then maybe it'll be someone who can tell me how to +get back to the library," she thought, laughing silently at the +ridiculousness of being lost in a house, anyway. + +She traced the music to a turning which led into a narrow hallway. At +its end a door stood ajar and from it a light streamed. Robin +approached the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the music, +then stood still on its threshold in delighted amazement for the violin +player was the girl for whom she was seeking. + +At sight of Robin the girl flung the violin upon the bed. + +"Oh, please don't stop. May I come in? I was hunting for you." + +It was an absurdly small room as compared to the great rooms below, and +very bare. There was one chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, at +the same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said plainly: "What do you +want?" + +Robin ignored her unfriendliness. She sat down on the edge of the bed, +close to Beryl. + +"I'm awfully glad I found you," she ventured. "You see you're the only +other _young_ person in this house. Though I never had any chums like +most girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds and the flowers +and the Farri children made it--" Robin stopped suddenly, for Beryl was +staring at her with rude amusement. "I--I thought it would be so nice if +you--and I--could be--sort of chums," she managed to finish. + +Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its case +with an angry little slam. + +"I guess it _would_ be sort of," she mocked. + +"What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat furiously; it had taken all +the courage she could muster to force her advance upon this girl and +Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at Beryl's scornful laugh. + +"Why--we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl answered. "You're--Gordon +Forsyth. And I'm just Beryl Lynch." + +Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of understanding. + +"I don't see--" she began but Beryl would not let her go on. Beryl's +whole soul went out in resentment at what she suspected was +"patronizing." "Not me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, you +just _say_ you can't see. Why I'm like a servant here. Though I won't be +that way long with that old crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn't +want me to do it. But I wanted the money. And I'm going to stick it out, +much as I hate it--" + +Robin watched the other girl's stormy face in an ecstasy of delight. +Here was a creature different from anyone she had ever known; almost her +own age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which she longed to +possess and knew she did not; beautifully straight and tall. + +"I asked old Budge for the place. I heard she wanted someone to help her +and it was work anyone could do. Mother felt dreadfully--she said I'd +hate it. I don't mind the work but I hate--oh, feeling I'm not as good +as anyone here. When Mrs. Budge told me to put on a clean uniform--ugh, +how I hate those uniforms--and go down to the hall to meet you, I told +her I wouldn't. She 'most sent me off then and there." + +"You did go, though. I saw you," Robin broke in. + +"Oh, yes, I went but I wouldn't change my dress just to spite her. And I +was curious to see the boy they were all making such a fuss about. You +just ought to know how upset they were when _you_ came! Why, old Budge +talked as though it were a disgrace for a Forsyth to be a girl. I was +glad--because it fooled her." Beryl realized suddenly that she was +growing friendily confidential. She sharpened her tone. "_You'd_ better +go down before the old snoop catches you here." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," pleaded Robin. + +"Like what?" + +"Oh, as though we weren't--well just girls alike and couldn't be +friends. We might have such good times--" + +"You _are_ a funny little kid, aren't you? And you certainly don't know +how things are run in stiff houses like this. If old Budge could hear +you! I don't mind telling you that the old cat keeps saying she's going +to watch you to see if you act like a Forsyth. So you'd better not let +her hear you asking to be friends with me." + +Robin slowly rose to her feet, two bright spots of color flaming in her +cheeks. + +"Why, I'll--" Her anger died suddenly and a quaint little dignity fell +upon her. She straightened her slender figure and held her head very +high. "I am a Forsyth and I shall act just as I think a good Forsyth +should and not as Mrs. Budge thinks. And please don't think I'm the +least bit afraid of this Mrs. Budge." + +Beryl laughed so gleefully at Robin's defiance that Robin joined in with +her and the friendship for which she sought sprang into being--all +because of an unspoken alliance against the hostile housekeeper. + +"I'll go back now--if you'll show me the way." + +"They _ought_ to have signs at every turning." + +"Oh, what a funny thought!" And giggling, the two tiptoed through the +winding corridors and down the stairs which led to the second floor. + +"I'll see you tomorrow," whispered Robin at parting. + +"It won't do--you'll see it won't do!" warned Beryl. "I haven't been in +this house two whole days without knowing what it's like!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF + + +The coming of Percival Tubbs to Gray Manor added the one sweet drop to +poor Mrs. Budge's cup of bitterness. Though he brought vividly back +heartbreaking memories of young Chistopher the Third's school days, when +she had waited each day for the lad's boisterous charge upon the kitchen +after the "bite" which was his and her little secret, she hoped to find +in him an ally. _He_ would see how ridiculous it was to have a Forsyth +girl, anyway, and especially a girl who limped around the house like a +scared rabbit, afraid to ask for a crumb. If this Gordon had been a boy, +as they had planned, another comely, happy youth, why, she could have +soon learned to love him. But a girl--how would she look sitting at +Master Christopher's desk, in his chair! Something was all wrong +somewhere, but Percival Tubbs would find out and say what's what. + +With this hope strong in her breast she made excuse to go into the +Chinese room, for the Chinese room was only separated from the library +by heavy curtains through which voices could be easily overheard. And +Harkness had said the lawyer and the tutor were talking in the library. + +Robin's guardian had given much thought to this interview with the +tutor. Robin's fate worried him not a little. He had, in the few days, +grown very fond of Robin, and he hated to leave her with Harkness and +Budge and this Percival Tubbs, a poor sort of companionship where a +fifteen-year-old girl's happiness was concerned. + +"I must make Tubbs see that the child is different--" he was thinking +just as Mrs. Budge tiptoed into the Chinese room. + +"Miss Gordon is not like other children and you'll have to plan your +school work a little differently with her," he began, speaking slowly. +"She's bright enough and knows much more about some things than most +girls her age--and nothing at all about others. What I want you to do is +to go easy; easy, that's it. I rather imagine she's always taken a lot +on her own shoulders and I don't believe she's ever thought much of +herself. If you can develop a little assertiveness in her--she'll need +it, here--" + +"Yes. She'll need it here," echoed the tutor, because he thought he +ought to say something. He was a tall, lanky man whose shoulders sagged +as though something about them had broken under the strain of being +dignified; his face narrowed from an impressive dome of a forehead to a +straggling Van Dyke beard which he always stroked with the fingers of +his left hand. He was the old type of schoolmaster whom the rapid +forward stride of education had left far behind. His summons to Gray +Manor had come rather in the way of a life-saver and he did not intend +to allow the fact that the Forsyth heir had turned out to be a girl, +perturb him in the least. And so long as his rooms at the Manor were +comfortable, his food good and his salary certain, he could adapt +himself to any fool theory this lawyer guardian might care to advance. + +Mr. Allendyce stared hard at the other, his face wrinkled in his effort +to say the right thing. + +"Oh, let her have her head," he finished finally. And he liked that idea +so well that he repeated it. "Let her have her head. Do you understand +me? Never mind what's in the old schoolbooks. If she'd rather take a +walk than study Latin verbs, well, let her. I want her to be happy +here--happy, that's most important. You've heard of flowers that bloom +only in shelter and sunshine? This youngster isn't unlike--" + +"Well, I never! No, I _never!... I never!_" Mrs. Budge's gasp, rising in +a crescendo, almost betrayed her presence. She gave a pillow a mighty +jab. As though it were not bad enough to bring the girl to the house in +the first place without paying a man a fancy price to teach her to have +her own way! "Flowers! Humph! Old fools--" Unable to endure another word +in silence she stalked off to her own quarters. + +In the butler's pantry she found Beryl arranging real flowers in a +squatty Bristol glass bowl and humming gaily as she did so. Now Beryl +should have beep upstairs marking the new linen and she should not be +singing as though she owned the whole world. These two transgressions +and the sight of the bright blossoms in the girl's hand brought the +climax to the old woman's wrath. All Beryl's shortcomings tumbled off +her tongue in an incoherent flow of ill-temper. A stormy scene resulted +which left the old housekeeper spent and Beryl blazing with indignation. + +Consequently, when poor Robin, depressed from her first hour with the +tutor, trying not to feel that Gray Manor was going to be a prison +instead of a castle, sought out her new friend she found her throwing +her few possessions into a cheap suitcase that lay, opened, across her +narrow bed. + +"Oh, what are you doing?" cried Robin in alarm. + +"I'm going--that's what. She fired me." + +Robin's first thought upon awaking that morning had been of Beryl; she +had suffered the keenest impatience all through the trying morning, +longing to go in search of her new friend. She could not lose her +now--for a hundred Budges. + +"Oh, I won't let you go!" + +"A lot _you_ could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, tears very close. "I +just can't please the old thing. But I hate to go home." She sat down, +dolefully, on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to stay until I had earned +two hundred dollars." + +Two hundred dollars! That seemed such a very big amount of money to +Robin that she sat silent, thinking about it. + +Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head. "I s'pose that +doesn't mean much to you. But it does to me--'specially when I have to +earn it." Then, with a flash of temper: "What do you know about wanting +some one thing with all your whole heart and knowing just where you can +get it and not having the money?" + +Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out her troubles always +brought her a grain of comfort. + +"I've never had a thing in my life that I wanted," she finished. + +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry." + +"Sorry! Why, a lucky little thing like you are can't even know what I'm +talking about. That's why I said we couldn't be friends. _I've_ had to +work at home like a slave ever since I can remember. Pop's sick all the +time and cross, and poor mother looks so tired and tries to be so +cheerful and brave that your heart aches for her. And even when you're +poor, a girl wants things, pretty things and to do things like other +girls--and work as hard as you can you can't ever seem to reach them. I +get just sick of it. I thought--if I could get this money--" + +"Did you want it for your mother?" broke in Robin, sympathetically. + +Beryl's face flushed redder. "Well, not exactly. That's the way it +always is in books, but in life, when you're poor, it's each fellow for +himself and there's not any time for your grand sounding self-sacrifice. +I wanted it to buy a violin. That thing I've got's nothing but a cheap +old fiddle. And I can play--I _know_ I can play, or could if I could get +a good violin. I took lessons from an old Belgian who lived above us and +I played once for Martini at the theatre and he said--but what's the use +of caring? What's the use of _thinking_ about it? All a girl like me can +do is just want big things!" + +"Oh, Beryl," breathed Robin, a tremble on her lips. She wanted very much +to make Beryl understand that she was not the "lucky thing" Beryl +thought her; that she knew, too, what it was to want something and not +to have it, though perhaps she had not known it as cruelly as Beryl had, +for Jimmie had always contrived to cover their bleak moments with a +makeshift contentment. "Oh, Beryl, honestly I know just how you feel. I +wish I could help you. Maybe I can. My allowance seems awfully big and I +can't ever spend it all--" + +"Well, I'm not a beggar and I'm not hinting for your money," flared +Beryl. + +"I didn't mean--" Robin began, then faltered. Beryl had spoken with such +real anger that she was frightened. Beryl, turning back to her packing, +gathered up an armful of clothing on top of which lay an oblong bundle. +Its wrappings were old and loose so that as Beryl flounced her burden +toward the suitcase, the content of the package slipped out and down to +the floor. Robin stared in amazement for there lay a doll in faded satin +finery. + +With a short, ashamed laugh, Beryl picked it up. "_That_ old thing," she +exclaimed, in half-apology. + +Robin caught her arm. "Wait--oh, wait--let me see it!" + +"It's just an old doll I've kept." + +"It--it looks like my Cynthia. Oh, _please_ just let me look at it. It's +like a doll--I lost, once, ever so long ago." She examined the pretty +clothing. + +Now Beryl stared at Robin as though to find in her face a likeness to +the little girl who had deserted her doll. + +"Lost? And I found it in Sheridan Square. A little girl went off and +left it. I waited awhile, then I took the doll home." + +"Oh, how funny! How _funny_! It was me, Beryl. I'd been playing and Mr. +Tony called to me to hurry and I forgot--and you found it. Why, I cried +myself to sleep night after night thinking poor Cynthia was unhappy +somewhere." + +"And I called her my orphan doll and loved her because I thought she +missed her real mother--" + +"She was the loveliest dolly I ever had!" + +"She was the loveliest dolly I ever saw!" + +Both girls burst into a peal of laughter. They sat on the edge of the +bed, the doll between them, the packing forgotten. + +Robin clapped her hands. "And to think we find each other now. It's like +a story. I went back to the park all alone that evening and would have +been lost if it hadn't been for my--" she broke off short and flushed. +She was going to tell Beryl about her play-prince but then, Beryl might +laugh and she did not want that. + +Beryl's face suddenly grew grave as she smoothed out a fold of the +doll-garment. + +"I always kept the doll put away. I never played with it because--" She +hesitated a moment. "That night that I found the doll was a dreadful +night. I wasn't quite six but I'll always remember it. At first mother +and I were so happy, over finding the doll and because Pop had just +gotten a raise. It seemed as though everything were going to be +wonderful and we felt as rich as could be. We called the doll a lucky +doll. And mother dressed me up in her green beads that Father Murphy, +back in Ireland, had given her when she told him she was going to marry +Pop. And we had dumplings--ugh, I've hated dumplings ever since. And +then--" + +"What happened?" + +"They came for Mom, some man from the hospital. Pop had been terribly +hurt. And, well--nothing's been lucky since. It's just as I said; +mother's had to work and Dale's had to work and Pop just sits in a chair +and scolds and--well, I never wanted to take the doll out when mother +could see it--after all that." + +Robin made no effort to conceal how deeply Beryl's story had moved her. +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry. But maybe things will change. They'll have +to--Jimmie always said, it's a long lane that has no turning. I'm so +glad it was you who found my Cynthia. It might have been some one who +wouldn't have loved her at all." + +"I s'pose you ought to have her now." + +"Oh, no, no. She's yours. Anyway, that doesn't matter," and Robin added +triumphantly, "because we're really truly friends now, no matter what +you say. Cynthia has brought us together." + +Beryl shook her head. + +"That old crank--" she began. + +Robin stamped her foot in impatience. "I don't care a bit about Mrs. +Budge. My guardian told me that I could have anything I wanted here just +for the asking and he's made me the silliest big allowance that three +girls couldn't spend. Oh, I've a plan! Ought not a girl like me have a +companion? Don't they most always in books? You shall stay here at Gray +Manor as my--chum." + +Beryl still looked doubtful. "I'm too young--" + +"That's just why I want you. Oh, I just can't bear to think of my +guardian going away and leaving me here alone. You see I promised myself +that I'd be happy while Jimmie's having his chance--that's why I came, +you know. But this house is so big and so old and Mr. Harkness and Mrs. +Budge are so old that I know it's going to be hard not to think of +Jimmie and our lovely home and the birds. But if you'd stay it would be +easier. Oh, say you will, say you will." + +Beryl stared at Robin with a suspicious scrutiny. She firmly believed +that rich people never did anything except for themselves and Robin, no +doubt, was like all the others. Yet she was such a queer little thing +that perhaps she _was_ trying to be "nice" to her and make a soft place +for her. And Beryl would not allow _that_ for a moment. + +"You can study with me, too. That Mr. Tubbs isn't so very bad. And we'll +read together out of all those books in the library. And play--I never +had a real chum because Jimmie thought the girls and boys who went to +the school I did, might make fun of my being lame. Poor Jimmie, he +always minded my being lame much more than I did because he's an artist +and shivers when anything isn't perfect. You shall have a bed in my +room--there's ever so much space. Oh, say you will." + +Beryl frowned, uncertainly. "I don't want a penny I don't earn. But if I +can really _do_ things for you--" + +"Oh, of course you can, lots of things. But you shan't wear those +uniforms--for then you wouldn't be a girl like me. Oh, we'll have _such_ +fun. Let's take this stuff right down." + +It took the girls only a very little time to transfer Beryl's belongings +and to establish them in Robin's room, Beryl working mechanically, +unable to believe her good fortune. Then, at Robin's command, she +followed her while she went in search of her guardian. + +Cornelius Allendyce and Percival Tubbs, sitting in a blue cloud of cigar +smoke, were pleasantly discussing the pros and cons of the tariff +question upon which they agreed, when Robin interrupted them. + +"Please excuse me, but this is very important." Her breathlessness +startled the two men. "I've engaged Beryl to be my chum. I--I thought I +might be lonely here at Gray Manor. I want her to study with me, too. +And do everything. This is she." + +Cornelius Allendyce's mouth had dropped open from sheer amazement; +suddenly it broadened into a grin. Here was Miss Gordon taking her +"head" at once, without so much as one lesson. He glanced at Percival +Tubbs but that good gentleman was stroking his silky beard quite +indifferently. + +"I'd rather have Beryl than anyone else, 'cause she's almost my own age +and we like each other. Shall I tell Mrs. Budge or--" + +"Without so much as a by-your-leave!" murmured the guardian. He surveyed +Beryl; she seemed like a wholesome, spirited sort and the idea of a +little companion for Miss Gordon was not a bad one, not at all--strange +he hadn't thought of it. + +"Perhaps, Miss Gordon, you'd better tell her yourself. You must +begin--holding your own, my dear. Don't forget--ever, that you are a +Forsyth, and that name has great power over Hannah Budge." + +Robin did not stop to ponder what he meant or why a twinkle shone in his +eyes. She rang the bell as her guardian indicated, then waited with a +resolute squaring of her small chin, for Harkness' coming. + +"Please, Mr. Harkness, will you bring Mrs. Budge here? There's something +I want to tell you both." + +Mrs. Budge, as she hunted out a clean apron, grumbled at the unusual +summons. + +"The girl herself, you say?" she asked, as she followed Harkness to the +library. + +Her astonishment changed to white wrath when Robin, standing by her +guardian's chair, spoke. + +"I wanted to tell you that Beryl Lynch is going to stay here as my +companion. I'm going to give her half of my room so that I won't be +lonely and please set a place for her next to me at the table." + +Once again Cornelius Allendyce caught the twinkle in the butler's eye +which should not be in a Forsyth butler's eye at all. But there was no +twinkle about Mrs. Budge; her cheeks puffed in her effort to speak +without strangling. + +"If that piece--" she began, but she was quickly interrupted from every +side. Both Harkness and Cornelius Allendyce cried out, the one +pleadingly, the other in warning: "Careful, Mrs. Budge." Then Robin +stepped forward and slipped her hand through Beryl's arm. + +"Please, Mrs. Budge, I have made Beryl promise to stay. She didn't want +to but I begged her. And if anyone is unkind to her it's just the same +as being--unkind to me. That is all," she finished grandly, with an +imperious little motion of her hand that waved the irate woman from the +room before she knew she was moving. + +"Now you can't say as that wasn't like a Forsyth," asserted Harkness, +proudly, belowstairs. "If Missy wants a young lydy for a companion, +well, she's a right to the kind of young lydy she wants." But Budge had +escaped the reach of his voice. + +In the library Cornelius Allendyce was patting Robin on the head. + +"Well, you've won out in the first skirmish, my dear. But keep your +weapons at hand." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LYNCHS + + +The only thing that made the Lynch's cottage any different from the two +hundred others at the mills, was that it stood at the end of a dreary +row and therefore had a window on the side of its living room which +overlooked the hills and the river. + +This window was Moira Lynch's delight. Her poor, big Danny could sit in +it all day long. And from it she herself could watch the setting sun +flame over the crest of the hills and the narrow river shake off its +workaday dress and go racing into the shadows of the woods. Poor Moira, +years of heartbreaking work and worry had not changed her very much from +the girl who had liked to lie in the deep sweet grass of her dear +Ireland and let her fancy follow the winging birds into a land of +dreams. + +The other window of the tiny living room looked out directly upon the +muddy road, across to the freight tracks. + +It was to this window that Moira Lynch ran now, peering as far up the +road as she could see. + +"Beryl's late today," she said, with an anxious note. + +"Well, what if she is? Things don't run by the clock," Danny Lynch +answered testily. "You're always fussing. If it isn't the girl it's over +Dale." + +Mrs. Moira ignored the edge of crossness in her Danny's voice. She went +to him, smoothed the spotless cushion at his back and put a fresh +magazine on his table. + +"It's a silly, worryin' hen I am," she laughed. (But, oh, her laugh was +a tragic thing, for while her lips curved in a smile her eyes shadowed +at their mockery). + +"But things seem a bit different, today," she added, apologetically. + +And just as Danny Lynch's retort of derision died away Beryl burst upon +them. + +Her mother needed only to give her one look to know that something _was_ +different. + +"And what is it, my darlin'? It's that hungry I was getting to set my +eyes on you. Two hours late you are, Beryl." + +Beryl welcomed this reproach as it gave her an opportunity to impart her +good news in an impressive way. + +"I couldn't get away a minute sooner. I've a new position." She was +going to say "job" but it did not seem fitting. + +"What? Without so much as a word to your father and mother? And did the +likes of that old housekeeper fire you?" + +Beryl had no intention of telling of her ignominious fray with Mrs. +Budge. + +"I'm engaged to be a companion to Gordon Forsyth!" she answered, +grandly. + +At this Moira Lynch dropped a spoon with a loud clatter. + +"A companion to--that new boy who's come to the Manor?" + +Beryl, recognizing that her story needed detailed explanation, slipped +off her outer wraps, threw them into a chair, kissed her father lightly +on his cheek, perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to tell the +story of Gordon Forsyth's coming to Gray Manor while her mother listened +with breathless interest. + +"And it's a girl she is--a little lame girl!" + +"The queerest kid you ever saw. Not a bit snippy or rich acting. She +doesn't get at all excited over her new clothes and bossing those old +fogeys around and ordering her motor any minute she wants it. She thinks +the little place she lived in in New York is lots nicer than Gray Manor. +When you look at her you think she's a baby and then when she talks, +why--she seems older than I am! But she's funny like you, Mom; she's +always pretending things are different from what they are and giving +them names. She calls old Budge the wicked woman who wanted to eat the +two children," Beryl giggled. "And she calls the Mills a Giant." + +Moira Lynch's face beamed with joyous understanding. Here was a +fellow-soul, "funny" like herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for whom +black was always and invariably black, and a spade a spade. + +"Why, she even wanted to come down here with me," Beryl finished. + +There were so many questions trembling on Moira's tongue that, for the +moment, supper was neglected. Not long, however; the striking of the +clock reminded her that in a very few minutes Dale would be home, +hungry. Her mission in life, next to tending her big Danny, was feeding +her two children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite dessert, a +bread pudding, the eggs for which she had carefully hoarded during +several days' denial. Beryl, keeping up a running fire of talk, spread +the cloth on the centre table and brought the dishes from the cupboard. + +"By'n by, you'll be too fine for the rest of us," broke in big Danny +upon their chatter, the usual discordant tone in his voice. + +"Well, I guess it won't be your fault if I am," Beryl flared. +"Everything that I've gotten I've gotten for myself and I don't know of +anyone ever trying to help me." + +Like a flash the little mother was between the two, a soothing hand on +the father's shoulder. + +"Now don't you two be a-spoiling this night," she laughed a bit +hysterically. "Of course our girl's going to be too fine for anyone, but +it's always a-loving she'll be to her Dad and her Mommy." She declared +it with an ardent triumph. This mother who had once dreamed things for +herself dreamed them now for her boy and girl. From Beryl's infancy she +had taught her to want "fine things." And Beryl wanted them with all +her heart and, with youth's selfishness, wanted them for herself, alone. + +After her father's taunt, Beryl, with sullen resentment, locked her lips +on her other pleasant experiences. Nor would she tell now how Robin had +written to her guardian to send down a real violin for her to practice +upon, or what fun it was to study with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose ears +were distractingly like Brussels sprouts. And that she learned much, +much faster than Robin did! Poor Robin was always wondering the why of +everything. + +Her mother suddenly exclaimed: "It's Father Murphy's beads you shall +wear this night, my girl. Didn't the good soul, God rest him, give them +with his blessing? Watch the potatoes while I get them." + +Moira's beads had always played a significant part in her life. They +marked what she called her "blessings." Without doubt the rare bright +spots in her life shone like blessings for the dark of their background. +Years ago, when her Danny had had his accident and her world had seemed +to turn upside down until it rested, full-weight, upon her poor +shoulders, her "blessing" had been Miss Lewis at the settlement. Miss +Lewis had given her work so that she could earn money to feed her +family; Miss Lewis had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had found +cheaper lodgings and had helped her make them homelike. Another blessing +had been Jacques Henri, the old Belgian who lived above them and whose +violin had attracted Beryl as the magnet draws the iron. A lonely soul, +he had found sweet company in the child and had gladly helped the eager +fingers. Later he had come down to supper with them and Beryl had played +a "piece" for her Pop, wearing the beads in honor of the occasion. When +Beryl had graduated from the graded school she had stood as class +prophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, among them Dale and +herself--wearing the green beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy were +there to see her girl. + +She clasped them around the girl's neck now with fingers that trembled +and eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. During +the little ceremony Dale burst in like a gust of strong, sweet air. + +"Hullo, everybody! M'm'm, something smells good! What's for tonight, +Mom? Salt pork and thick gravy? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. How +goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and everyone in a rush, +from the savory supper to the invalid father whose face had brightened +at his coming. + +"What're you getting all dolled up for, Sis?" + +Beryl and her mother tried to tell the story at the same time. Dale did +not seem at all impressed and Beryl was disappointed. He said he had +heard in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a girl, and lame, +too. He didn't know what difference it made to any of them, anyway. He +scowled a little as he said it. + +Dale had his father's strong body and his mother's face of a dreamer; +his eyes were brooding like Beryl's but his mouth was wide and tender +and might have seemed weak but for the strength in the square cut jaw. + +Since that time, ten years back, when he had resolutely put behind him +his precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he had +been the recognized head of the family. As such he turned to Beryl now. + +"I suppose you'll let this rich little girl wipe her feet on you and +you'll love it," he said with such scorn that Beryl turned hot and cold +in speechless anger. + +"Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we know the poor little +thing," begged his mother. + +But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing the beads, all joy for the +moment had fled. She had particularly wanted to impress Dale with her +good fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak scathingly and +bitterly of the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness of +things in general, but she had paid little attention to it and could +not, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin. When he met Robin, he'd +understand--and while Dale ate ravenously and talked to his father +between mouthfuls, she planned how she would bring Robin to supper the +very next time she came home, despite her vow that she would never let +Robin see how humble and small her home was. + +After supper Beryl helped her mother clear away and Dale brought out his +"plaything" which was what he laughingly called the contrivance of +strings and spools and little wooden wheels he had made and which he and +his father "played with" each evening. Beryl had often wondered why Dale +seemed to care so much about it; why he spent hours and hours drawing +and figuring on bits of paper. Of course it amused the father, who, +during the day, cut the spools into tiny wheels, with a sharp +jack-knife; but it must be stupid for Dale to spend all of his evenings +over the silly thing. Beryl often lounged on the back of his chair and +listened to discover whether there was any part of the game she might +like. + +Tonight Dale's interest seemed forced. + +"If I could just find out what's needed _here_--" he growled, touching +the delicate contrivance. "That's the way! While I'm racking my poor old +nut, some other fellow's going to make the whole thing out!" + +Danny Lynch's big hand trembled where it lay on the table. "If I had had +the learning--" he began. "I could help, mebbe." + +Dale hastened to comfort him. "You don't get that stuff from books, +exactly, Pop. It comes here," touching his head. "If I only had the +money to have the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use of +talking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm thinking about it all the +time. Say, Mom, can I bring Adam Kraus over to supper some night? He +said he'd like to meet Pop and he's a good sort." + +This Adam Kraus had only recently come to the Mills. He had at first +impressed the neighborhood somewhat unfavorably, for he encouraged a +suggestion of mystery, lived at the Inn, kept aloof from everyone, and +seemed to have no family. Moira's own quick thought of him when Dale had +pointed him out on the road in front of the Mill store was that "he +looked too white for a working man." But he seemed to have singled Dale +out for his advances; Dale thought he was a good sort and had met him +more than half-way; Dale who had had to work too hard by day and study +at night to make any close friendships. Whether she liked him or not, he +should have the best she could offer. + +"_I'm_ going to bring Robin--I mean, Miss Forsyth, down here the next +time _I_ come," broke in Beryl. + +"And of course you can. And Dale shall bring his friend, too." + +"And you can wear your fine beads, Sis," finished Dale, teasingly. + +"And it's a nice pot roast and cabbage salad we'll have, too. And a bit +of the fruit cake with real butter sauce." Wasn't she going to get her +check soon from the store to which she sent her lace? + +So Beryl forgot her vexation and Dale his problem with his wooden toy in +pleasant anticipation of the "dinner party," as Mrs. Moira grandly +called it, out of respect to the pot roast and the fruit cake which Miss +Lewis had sent them and which was hidden away in a huge crock in the +shed. + +"Mom, can't I take the beads back with me? They're so pretty and I +haven't a thing that's nice," begged Beryl as the moment for her to +return to the Manor came. + +"The Princess and the Beggar-maid!" laughed Dale. + +"My fine lady must have her jewels!" added big Danny. + +Beryl flushed under their teasing but held her tongue, for didn't she +always have that picture blazed in her heart of the moment when with her +violin she would hold enthralled her unappreciative family and thousands +of others? _Then_ they would not laugh at her! + +"I'll be ever so careful of them and only wear them once in a while," +she promised. + +Though Mrs. Moira would, of course, have given her children anything +they wanted that was hers, she hesitated now, not from reluctance to +part with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent past +came the old father's words: "They are only beads. But they'll remind +you of this day." She had been seventeen then--a slip of a girl. Beryl +was almost sixteen now. + +"The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they are!" she laughed, with a +little catch in her voice. "Of course you shall take them." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS + + +"What'll we do today?" + +Beryl asked the question, turning from her post between the curtains of +Robin's sitting-room. Not in a tone of complaint did she speak, rather +as though weighing which pastime would be most worthy of the unexpected +holiday. + +For poor Percival Tubbs had "neuralgy" and could not leave his room; +Harkness had told them when he carried in their breakfast. + +"_This_ is just the kind of a day you'd like _something_ to happen," +Beryl went on, permitting a sigh to convey how much she would welcome +that something. "It's all gray and mysterious. The hills look awfully +far away. It's lonesomey." + +Robin looked anxiously to her companion. _She_ did not feel lonesome at +all. This room, where they ate their breakfast each morning at Harkness' +suggestion, was cosy and full of inviting books and pretty pictures and +comfy chairs; Harkness was ever so nice and concerned as to their +comfort, they were as secure from Mrs. Budge's hostility as thick walls +and Harkness' vigilance could make them and--best of all, a letter from +her Jimmie, full of Mr. Tony's plans and their contemplated sailing, lay +close to her heart. + +"What would you like most to do, Beryl?" + +"Oh, let's ask Williams to take us for a long ride--I adore going like +the wind," answered Beryl promptly. + +This suggestion appealed to Robin, who, although she didn't like to "go +like the wind," never tired of riding among the hills. She went +immediately with Beryl to find Williams, the chauffeur. Williams, like +the others around the Manor, with the exception of Mrs. Budge, had +fallen under Robin's spell and was enjoying the stir that her coming +brought to the old house. So he declared, now, that it would be a "nice +day for a run" and they could take the Cornwall road, because there was +a fellow in Cornwall he ought to see. + +Before the holiday fun could begin Beryl had her "duties" to perform. +These were tasks which she had set for herself so that she might not +feel for one moment that she was living on Robin's charity and were most +of them quite unnecessary and little things that Robin would really like +to do herself. However Beryl was too proudly intent upon saving her +pride to realize this and Robin, instinctively understanding, let her +have her way. + +Finally started, the girls snuggled close together in the car, holding +hands under the big robe. And, as they sped over the smooth road, each +let her thoughts take wings. Beryl's, with the honest self-centredness +that was characteristic of her, fluttered about herself. How she looked +in this peachy car--how she'd love to steer it and just step on the gas +and fly; some day, when she was famous, she'd have a car like this only +much bigger and painted yellow and she'd take Mom and Pop out and go +through the Mill neighborhood so that that gossipy Mrs. Whaley who had +called her "stuck-up" could see her. What she'd do in Robin's shoes, +anyway! Why, Robin didn't know what money meant, probably because Robin +had never wanted any one big thing, like she did. + +Robin, beside her, sat in cosy contentment--mainly because of her +precious letter. She drew a mental picture of her Jimmie, sailing away. +Then her thoughts came back to the gray hills and she wished her father +might see them at that moment, so as to paint them. He would love +Wassumsic, she knew--but, oh, he would hate the Mills. He would think, +as she did, that it was too bad they had built the Mill cottages between +the dingy buildings and the freight yards when they might have built +them where each window could have overlooked the climbing fields and +woods, where the children could have played in sweet grass the livelong +day and built beautiful snow forts when it was winter. + +Beryl suddenly broke the silence by a gleeful "Isn't this fun?" as +Williams coasted down a long grade with a breath-catching acceleration +of speed. + +The wind had whipped a fine color into the girls' cheeks, the changing +scenes about them were of untiring interest; they exclaimed delightedly +over each curve and hill in the road, each tiny hamlet through which +they passed. All too soon, they reached Cornwall and started on the +homeward way. + +At the top of a steep hill Williams slowed down to slip the gear into +second. In the valley below them was a collection of unpainted houses, +leaning towards one another as though for protection against the growing +things about them. + +"The Forgotten Village!" cried Robin. "Don't you feel just as though we +might tumble over into it?" + +"A good place to drive right _through_," Williams answered with a +scornful laugh. + +Alas, poor Williams--he brought the car skilfully and safely down the +difficult hill only to have it stop, with a reproachful snort, in the +very heart of the little village. + +"What's the matter?" asked the girls in one breath as Williams, with an +explosive exclamation, jumped from his seat. + +There was a moment of investigation, before the man replied. + +"No gas!". + +"Is _that_ all?" + +"All! I'll say that's enough--here. Don't look as though anyone'd know +what gas is in these parts. You sit in the car while I ask someone, Miss +Forsyth." + +"You wanted something to happen, Beryl," laughed Robin, as Williams +walked away. + +"Pooh! _This_ isn't much of an adventure. And I'm awfully hungry." + +Poor Williams returned with the word that he'd have to walk on to the +next town--unless he was lucky enough to meet someone who'd help him +out. He advised the girls waiting in the store. + +"There isn't even a telephone in this dump," he grumbled resentfully, +quite forgetting that he had only his own carelessness to blame for the +whole thing. + +Neither Robin nor Beryl had the slightest intention of waiting in the +funny little store where the crackers and tea and coffee looked as old +as the old man who came out from behind the counter at their approach. +They waited until Williams had disappeared, then went forth to explore +the Forgotten Village. Unabashed, they stared at the weather-beaten +houses, at the old woman, a faded shawl tied around her head, washing +clothes at a pump, at the hideous square of dingy brick which served as +school house and church, its window frames stuffed here and there with +rags, a pathetic sign upon which was printed "library," hanging crazily +by one nail. + +Beyond the church stood an old mill, its roof tumbled in. Exploring it +the girls heard the sound of tumbling water and discovered a stream +breaking its way through thick undergrowth. A lane, marked by two wagon +ruts, edged the course of the stream. + +"Let's see where this goes," suggested Beryl. + +Robin limped willingly after her. It was an alluring lane, even in +November, for the ghostly gray branches of old trees met and interlocked +close overhead, fir trees, mingling with the silver white trunks of +slender birches, walled it either side, a whirring of invisible wings +added to its apartness and the little stream, tumbling its way, sounded +like laughter. + +"Isn't this the loveliest spot? Wherever do you suppose it comes out?" +For the lane twisted and turned as it climbed. + +"Robin, there's a house!" + +Ahead of them the girls could see through the trees the outlines of a +low square house. And as they drew nearer, walking stealthily, they +stared in amazement. For, unlike its neighbors in the village below, +this house was as white as fresh white paint could make it, at the +windows hung crisply white curtains, a brass knocker dignified its broad +door. + +Robin, always imaginative, clutched Beryl's arm with a breathless +giggle. "Beryl, it's like the house of bread and cake with the window +panes of sugar. Do you suppose someone will call out: 'Tip-tap, tip-tap, +who raps on my door'?" + +"Sh-h! I'm hungry enough to eat the roof. Let's ask for a drink of water +so's to see the inside." + +Robin did not think it was just nice to deliberately intrude upon the +privacy of this shut-away house but Beryl, not waiting for her approval, +knocked boldly on the heavy old door. + +When the door swung open, however, and a beaked-nosed woman, absurdly +like the witch of the fairy story, confronted the girls, Beryl stood +tongue-tied and Robin had to come to the rescue. + +"Can we--if you please, we had an accident--I mean, we went for a +walk--oh, _may_ we have a drink of water?" she floundered, fairly +blinking before the sharply piercing eyes of the woman in the door. + +"Who is it, Brina?" came from within, whereupon the woman answered in +rapid German, her head turned backward over her shoulder, her hand still +on the doorknob. + +"Shame on you, Brina. They are two children--lost, perhaps. Let them +come in." + +The room was disappointingly like any other old country-house living +room; scrupulously clean and shining, a wide fireplace aglow with a wood +fire that cast bright splotches of color over the low walls, the faded +rag rugs, the piece-work cushions on the old wooden settle. + +Close to its warmth sat a white-haired woman, one long thin hand +supporting her head in such a way as to keep her face in a shadow. + +[Illustration: "IT'S LIKE THE HOUSE OF BREAD AND CAKE"] + +Robin explained their presence in the lane, incoherently, for there was +something frightening about the silent, composed figure and the +intentness with which those shadowed eyes scrutinized her. While Robin +talked, Beryl swiftly surveyed the room and its occupants, not least of +which was a great St. Bernard dog, that, after one "gr'f'f" leaned +against his mistress' chair and regarded the intruders with watchful +eyes as though to reserve advances, friendly or hostile. + +Her account finished, Robin smiled bravely back into the grave face, +with that enchanting tenderness which had won Cornelius Allendyce and +enticed him to strange deeds. + +The smile worked its spell at least on the dog for he moved slowly over +to her, lifted a big paw and placed it gravely upon her shoulder. + +"Caesar declares you a friend," said the woman in a slow, low-pitched +voice. "He does not welcome many into our seclusion. Please sit down. +Brina, bring these young ladies a pitcher of milk and some cookies." + +Brina swung out of the room at her mistress' bidding. Robin, +uncomfortable but immensely curious and excited, sat on the edge of the +settle and chattered, while Beryl, well behind their silent hostess, +made mysterious signs with fingers and lips and eyes. + +"We think this is the loveliest spot--the old town and the mill and this +lane--and all. No one would ever dream from the road that this house was +here. Has it a name? First I called it the House of Bread and Cake and +Sugar--like the fairy story, but it ought to be called the House of +Rushing Waters, hadn't it?" + +"That will do--very nicely. No, no one would know from the road that the +house stands here." + +But when Robin ventured: "Aren't you ever lonely?" there was a +perceptible tightening of the lips that made her sorry she had asked it. + +"Robin, there's something funny about that whole place," declared Beryl, +half-an-hour later as they went back down the lane. "I was doing some +thinking while you were talking." + +"She's a dear old lady, Beryl. I feel sorry for her." + +"Oh, yes, dear enough. _I_ thought she was stand-offish. But you don't +think for a moment she belongs 'round here, in the same town with that +old cheese down at the store?" + +Robin admitted that everything about her House of Rushing Waters was +very different from the Forgotten Village. + +"Wasn't that Brina just like a witch with her parrot nose and sharp +eyes?" + +But Beryl had no patience just now with Robin's beloved fairy lore. Two +little lines wrinkled her brow. + +"There's something queer about that place or my name isn't Beryl Lynch. +And I like to know what's what. Wouldn't it be fun to find out what it +is? Whether she's hiding there on account of something or someone's +keeping her a prisoner? Maybe--" Beryl lowered her voice, "maybe she's +crazy." + +"Oh, Beryl, she didn't act a bit crazy. Just very sad. She was nice. I +thought the room was lovely, too--and the lunch and that darling dog." +Robin had thoroughly enjoyed the simple hospitality and meant to defend +it. + +"Of course the room was nice," Beryl felt that she showed much patience +with Robin's obtuseness, "but didn't you see anything _different_ in +that room? Books and magazines! Country people don't sit and read +magazines and knit on rose wool in the middle of the afternoon! Robin, +_that_ woman's a lady! And you notice she didn't tell us who she was. +And a woman with her talking some foreign jibberish." + +"Beryl, you're wonderful to notice all these things. I'd never have +noticed half of them." + +Beryl tossed her head with pride. "Nothing much escapes _me_," she +boasted. "And I think it was a good thing we didn't tell her just who +_we_ were. But let's not let a soul know about our finding this place +until we unravel the mystery." + +Robin hesitated. "She was so nice to us and it's really none of our +business why she's there or who she is--" she argued so staunchly that +Beryl put in hastily: "Well, let's just have it a secret because +secrets are such fun." And to that Robin agreed gladly, for secrets +_are_ fun and are always a strengthening bond in true friendship. + +"I won't tell a soul!" she promised. + +They found Williams waiting for them at the store, worried at their +disappearance and annoyed at the delay. He had walked many miles in +payment for his carelessness. + +As they rushed homeward, both girls thought of the house they had left +and its lonely occupant. + +"Wouldn't wonder a _bit_ if she might be some royalty person hiding here +from anarchists," whispered Beryl, with a burst of imagination, amazing +for her, tinged by a novel she had recently read. + +"Would we dare go again to see her?" + +"Of course we're going. Even if you don't, I want to find out who she is +and all about her." + +"_I'd_ just like to see her again and that darling dog. If she doesn't +want to tell us who she is I don't want her to! It's more fun to pretend +that her house is made of bread and cake and sugar." + +"Pooh!" was Beryl's impatient answer. + +And that evening, as though in defense of her suspicions she thrust a +newspaper under Robin's nose with an expressive "There, read _that_!" at +the same time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph. + +The paragraph told of the mysterious disappearance of its Dowager Queen +from the little warring Balkan kingdom of Altruria. + +"She could be in this country as well as not. I read a book once where a +Duke hid for five years right in the heart of New York and then met his +heir face to face on Broadway. Wouldn't it be fun if that old woman +_was_ this Dowager Queen?" + +"But, Beryl, she talked English. Wouldn't she talk--some other +language?" + +Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers don't. They talk ever so many +tongues. English as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You just +wait." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD + + +The following Wednesday had been set for Mrs. Lynch's dinner of "pot +roast and cabbage salad." + +"You'll think we're awfully poor, Robin, when you see that mean old +cottage," Beryl complained as the girls were dressing for the dinner. + +Robin, hesitating between a Madonna blue and a yellow dress, turned +quickly at the tone in Beryl's voice. + +"Oh, Beryl, what difference does your house make! I want to know your +mother and your father and--Dale." + +"Well, there's no use your dressing up--it'll just make everything else +there look absurdly shabby." + +Robin laid the garment she held down upon the bed. A puzzled look +darkened the glow in her eyes. There were a great many times when she +found it difficult to understand Beryl's changing moods. She herself was +too indifferent to clothes to know that it was the two pretty gowns she +had brought out from her wardrobe that had now sent Beryl into the +dumps. + +"I won't dress up, Beryl. I just thought your mother would like to have +me--out of respect to her party. I didn't think you wouldn't like it. +But if you think I'm going down there to stare around at the things in +the house and pick to pieces the dishes and the food--you're wrong, +Beryl. I think your mother must be a wonderful woman and I am just crazy +to meet her and I know I'm going to love your father and I never talked +to a boy in my whole life except in school when I had to! There!" Robin +stopped for very lack of breath. + +This unexpected show of spirit, so unlike Robin's usual gentleness, took +Beryl back. Fond as she was of her mother she had never thought of her +as exactly "wonderful" or of anyone wanting to know her, or her poor, +crippled father, or Dale. She laughed a little shamefacedly. + +"Oh, wear what you want to, Robin. I suppose I'm jealous because I +haven't anything except that old gray thing that's just tottering with +age. What a joke to call Dale a boy! Why, he's never been a boy, because +he's worked so hard for everything." + +"Well, I'm glad I'm going to meet him, anyway." Robin spoke with +excitement. It did not matter at all what she wore--without a moment's +hesitation she put away the blue and the yellow dress and brought forth +the mouse colored jersey she had worn when she arrived at Gray +Manor--she was going to meet Beryl's family. Robin, who had never had +any family except "Jimmie," imagined beautiful things of family life, +mostly colored by books she had read and pictures she had seen. Brothers +were always big strong fellows who sometimes teased their younger +sisters but were always ready with a helping hand; fathers--well, she +knew about fathers, having had Jimmie, but Beryl's father must be very +different because of his accident. It was "Mom" that she most wanted to +know. She hoped Beryl's mother would kiss her. At the thought her heart +gave a quick little beat. + +When Percival Tubbs, to whom Harkness, uncertain as to the propriety of +a Forsyth dining at one of the Mill cottages had appealed, had mildly +endeavored to point out to Robin that this dinner-party was not exactly +"fitting," Robin had simply not been able to understand and had answered +so honestly: "Why, just because I'm a Forsyth doesn't make me a bit +better than those people who work in the Mills, does it?" That Mr. Tubbs +had abandoned his point with a mental reservation not unlike Mrs. +Budge's beloved: "Things _are_ going to sixes and sevens." + +And below stairs the loyal Harkness, putting off his own doubt, had met +Mrs. Budge's scorn of the whole "goings-on" with a grand defense of his +little mistress: "Some lydies in 'igh places distribute their bounty in +baskets but if Miss Gordon sees fit to carry 'ers in her pretty little +'eart, I don't say it's for us to be a thinking it isn't the 'appier +way," and Budge knew he was very much in earnest because he forgot his +h's, a little trick of speech he had long ago overcome. + +For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress, Beryl brought forth +her green beads. Robin exclaimed over them, taking them out of Beryl's +hand to hold them to the light. + +"Oh, they are lovely, Beryl, see the deep glow! They're like the sea. +You ought to be proud of them." + +"They're just some beads an old priest gave mother when she was a girl," +Beryl explained, making her voice indifferent. She loved Robin's +enthusiasm but half-suspected it might be "put on" in order to make up +to her for the things she did not have. "They do look nice on this +dress, though, don't they?" She laid them against her neck and stared +with satisfaction at the reflection in the long mirror. + +The Lynch cottage, in honor of the occasion, sparkled with orderliness. +Mrs. Moira looked very gay in a pretty foulard she had made over from +two of Miss Lewis' old dresses; her fluttering hands alone betrayed her +nervousness and her fears that though the most tempting smells came from +the stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little Miss Forsyth +and for Dale's new friend, too. + +However, when Robin came into the room with Beryl she looked so +appealingly small that Mrs. Lynch promptly forgot she was a Forsyth and +that the dinner might not be good enough and put her arms around her and +kissed her. And Robin with an impulsive movement snuggled closer to the +warm embrace. + +"Why, it's a mite of a thing you are," cried Mrs. Moira with the singing +note in her voice that always came when she was deeply moved. "And +hungry, I hope. Well, Dale will be here in a moment and then we'll dish +up." + +Then everything was just like Robin had hoped it would be. Beryl's +mother called them "children" and let them help her with the finishing +touches of the dinner. Beryl's father smiled at her and patted her hand. +She did not see the little room with Beryl's eyes, its limited space +into which so much had to be crowded, the cracked shade on the lamp, the +dingy carpeting that held together through some kind miracle, she only +thought it cosy and homey; she liked the queer old clock and the blue +bowl filled with artificial jonquils and the crocheted "tidies" with +dogs designed in intricate stitches. + +"Here's Dale!" whispered Beryl. "I'm crazy to meet his friend. I'm going +to sit next to him at the table, see if I don't." + +In the excitement of Dale's arrival and of introducing the strange "Mr. +Kraus" no one noticed Robin for a moment, or that she stared at Dale +with round, puzzled eyes. Had she ever seen him before? When Beryl +turned suddenly and said: "Dale, this is Gordon Forsyth," she hoped he +would say: "Why, I know her." However, he merely mumbled "How do you +do," stiffly, and turned away, to Beryl's indignation and Robin's vague +disappointment. + +The pot roast and the cabbage salad were as delicious as Mrs. Moira's +loving pains could make them; Dale's friend talked mostly to big Danny +and Mrs. Moira listened and Dale occasionally put in a word. Over her +plate Robin watched first one and then another, her eyes invariably +coming back to Dale's face. Beryl, annoyed that no one noticed her and +Robin and treated them "as though they were just children," ate +ravenously, in dignified silence. + +The talk centered about the Mills. Adam Kraus freely ridiculed the +Forsyth methods. "They're miles behind the times," he declared and +compared them glibly with other similar industries. "Old Norris belongs +to the has-beens. Look at the machinery he uses--all right in its day, +of course. But if a fellow went to him with some new kind of a loom, +would he look at it? Not he! The old's good enough." + +"Hear that, Pop?" put in Dale, exchanging a meaning glance with his +father. + +"And look at the way they house the mill hands here, putting a fellow +like Dale with his cleanness and his brains and his possibilities, into +a dump like this. They don't recognize the human element in industries +of this sort or what it's worth to them. Why, there's no argument any +more as to the increased efficiency from giving better living +conditions--but I'll bet Norris hasn't heard of it." + +"We haven't been here long enough to know--" Mrs. Lynch began gently but +Dale interrupted her, his voice rough. + +"It isn't Norris alone, Adam. You've got to go further up--it's the +House of Forsyth. They're feudal lords--or like to think they are. Do +you suppose it mattered much up there, when the little Castle girl had +her arm crushed in that old wheel last month and died because her body +wasn't nourished enough to stand under the amputation? A lot they +cared--just one bit of machinery gone for a day--another--" + +"_Dale_--" cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed embarrassment, and suddenly +everyone looked at Robin. + +Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and Dale with deep interest. It +was not until Mrs. Lynch exclaimed and all eyes turned in her direction +that she connected what they were saying with her own self. Under Dale's +sudden scrutiny she flushed. + +"I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth." But this was so far from +an apology that Mrs. Lynch looked more distressed than before and Beryl +glared at her brother. + +"Oh, _please_ don't mind me," begged Robin. _She_ was glad Dale did not +say he was sorry for what he had been saying; she wanted to know more. +She wanted to tell them that _she_ called the Mills a Giant and that she +hated them and that Cornelius Allendyce had told her she should look for +a Jack who could climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of the +stranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell me all about +the--the Castle girl?" + +"There isn't much to tell about her that's different from ninety-nine +other cases. She was supporting a younger brother and sister. The +brother's only twelve years old but he had to go to work--said he was +sixteen. The kid sister helps the grandmother as much as she can." + +"Do they live in one of these houses?" + +"In the old village. They're cheaper, you see. The boy can't earn as +much as Sarah Castle did and they had to move up the river." + +"Could I go to see them--sometime?" + +Mrs. Lynch answered for Dale. "Of course you can, dearie. And I'll go +with you. It's from my own county they say the grandmother comes and +likely she'll know some of the old people." + +"Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep pools reflecting +starlight. "I'd like to know _everyone_ here in the village and what +they do. Perhaps the--the other Forsyths wanted to really know the Mill +people, too, only they--they've been so unhappy. But I'm different, you +see--I'm a girl and so sort of--little." + +"Bless the warm little heart of her--defending her own," thought Mrs. +Lynch, and Dale, his face softening until it was boyish, smiled and +said: "You _are_ a little thing, aren't you?" + +At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin with such suddenness +that a breathless "oh" escaped her parted lips. A dark night and lonely +streets, a chill wind cutting her face, an iron fence enclosing a +deserted triangle of dead grass and filthy papers--a kind voice telling +her not to cry--of course, her Prince! She peeped almost fearfully at +Dale who was joking with Beryl. _He_ did not know--he had forgotten, of +course. He had been a big boy, then, and he had not gone on playing the +little game the way she had. How wonderful, how _very_ wonderful, to +find him. And Beryl's brother! She did not mind at all what he had said +about the Forsyth's. If he said it, it must be true. She would find out. + +Mrs. Lynch, beaming over her simple dinner, little knew that Destiny sat +at her board, shaping, moulding, gathering and weaving the threads of +life, golden and drab. + +To Beryl's disgust, after the meal Dale brought forth his "toy." But +Adam Kraus, instead of showing the boredom which Beryl expected, studied +it with absorbed keenness, quickly grasping what Dale wanted to do. + +"Have you ever shown this to Morris?" he asked Dale. + +Dale shook his head. "No use to do it now--until I've worked the thing +out to perfection. And I can't do that--without money." + +Robin, wiping plates for Mrs. Lynch, caught Dale's words and Adam Kraus' +answer. + +"I wonder if Norris would see what an invention like that--if you can +make it do what you say you can--would be worth to these mills. It would +lift them out of the boneyard of antiquity and put them fifty years +ahead of their competitors. Why, I'll bet Granger's would give you a +cool twenty thousand for that just as it stands. It would serve Norris +right, too." + +Dale's face flushed with excitement. "Do you really think all that, +Adam? Pop and I've gotten so down in the dumps trying to work the thing +out that we've lost our sense of values." + +"Inventors never have any," laughed Kraus, with a change in his voice. +And he commenced hastily to talk of other things, to Dale's +disappointment. + +Robin pulled timidly at Dale's arm. + +"Who's Grangers?" + +"Grangers? Don't you know the big mills up at South Falls?" + +"Would they--if they took--that--you'd go there--" She tried desperately +to voice the fear that had shaped in her heart; Grangers taking this +funny wooden thing that Mr. Kraus said was worth so much, and Dale going +away from Wassumsic, and Dale's mother--and Beryl. + +"You just bet I would," and Dale laughed. "But don't worry, we won't be +going for a while." + +Robin had so much to think about that night that she could not go to +sleep. She did not want to go to sleep. Up to this day she had been +just little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin," at Gray Manor to let Jimmie +have his chance; happy, because Jimmie was having his chance and Beryl +was with her and Beryl was unfailingly interesting. + +Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just "anything." A Forsyth +ought to care about those awful Mills, that were in some sort of a +"boneyard," and about the people who worked in them--especially poor +Sarah Castle's brother and sister. And there were probably many other +boys and girls. She'd ask Mrs. Lynch--or Dale. + +Beryl stirred and Robin ventured to speak. + +"Beryl, are you awake? If Mr. Norris bought that invention of your +brother's, would it make things easier for--the Mill people?" + +Beryl jerked herself up on her elbow. + +"Red-Robin Forsyth, are you crazy? Fussing over that absurd toy of +Dale's at this hour? Why should _you_ care?" Beryl sank back into her +pillows and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most glorious eyes?" + +Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, I hated his eyes. They +were not true eyes. But--I like Dale--lots." And just here, for the +second time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for Dale must +never know that she remembered him; all that belonged to her childhood. +Beryl might laugh, too, as she often did at her "fancies," and call her +"funny." + +Thinking of Dale brought her thoughts back to the Mills so that while +Beryl snuggled her sleepy head back into her pillow, she stared at the +thin shaft of light that shone under the door and wished she was big +instead of "a little bit of a thing" and very wise so that she would +know what to do to show these people in Wassumsic that she--a Forsyth, +_did_ care. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ROBIN WRITES A LETTER + + +Cornelius Allendyce had returned to New York from Gray Manor with his +mind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. His +associates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him and +they often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling +himself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far from +fields of law. + +Cornelius Allendyce _did_ feel pleased with himself. How many men would +have dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it had +all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest," living in her past, +her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little +Robin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned out +so surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking, +in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not want +to--he liked to think it all over. + +Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human race +of which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were all +alike--pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves like +kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He knew absolutely nothing of +the fearless, honest, open-air girls, with hearts and souls as straight +and clean as their healthy young bodies or that there were legions like +little Robin and Beryl who, because they had been cheated of much that +went to the making of these others, stood as a type apart. He only +thought--as he went over the whole thing--that Robin's Jimmie was to +blame for her being "different," leaving her alone so much and letting +her take responsibilities way over her head; now she would enjoy the +girlish pleasures that were her due. His sister Effie had supplied her +with everything in the way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want; +Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs would go light with +the school work--he had certainly made a point of _that_, and, when he +could run up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little companion +Robin had adopted. If she were not all that she ought to be (Miss Effie +had somewhat disturbed him on this point) why, a change could be made; +someone a little older and more cultured (Miss Effie's word) could be +sent up from New York. + +Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, enjoyed at intervals in his +work, Robin's letter, written a few days after her dinner at Mrs. +Lynch's, fell like a bomb. + + "DEAR GUARDIAN," she had begun, + + I am ever so sorry I haven't written for so long, but I haven't + had a minute, really, truly. There are so many things to look at + and to do. I am beginning to really love Gray Manor--it is so + always and always beautiful. Mr. Harkness is a dear and is very + good and tells me what to do many times when I am stupid and do not + see for myself--like the finger-bowls. Jimmie and I never used + finger-bowls. I don't mind the school work, though I simply can't + keep up with Beryl. When you come up, I will tell you how wonderful + Beryl is and all about her family. Her mother had a lovely dinner + one night and Beryl took me. Beryl is going to be a great + violinist, you know, and she is saving money to buy a real violin + that will be all her own and take lessons. She will not let me do a + thing to help her, which is splendid--I mean, for her to be so + proud and brave, though I wish she would let me do just a little. + + We have some very good times together, mostly taking lovely rides + back in the hills to places Harkness tells us about and once we + took our lunch and Mr. Tubbs and Harkness went, though Mr. Tubbs + had dreadful neuralgia afterwards. Beryl and I read every evening. + I love the books. I think I've been hungry for them all my life and + didn't know it. We're playing a game to see which of us can read + the most. We can play forever because one day we counted the books + in the library and there are one thousand and seventy four and + Harkness says there are more in Christopher the Third's room. + Harkness has been telling us all about him and he showed us his + picture--you know, the one in the Dragon's sitting-room (I + apologize, in Aunt Mathilde's room) and he looked like a young + prince, didn't he? How will Aunt Mathilde ever reconcile herself to + a little insignificant, lame thing like me when she sees me? + + Oh, I wish I could really _truly_ meet my good Fairy somewhere--the + one who forgot to attend my birth--and she'd give me one wish, I'd + just ask for one. And that wish would be to G-R-O-W. I never cared + before but now I want to be BIG. Oh, and wise! Mr. Tubbs will tell + you how stupid I am. A Forsyth ought to be big and wise. You see, + before this I have never thought of myself as a real true + Forsyth--I've always just been Jimmie's daughter. But lately I've + been thinking a lot about what a Forsyth ought to be and there are + about a million questions I'd like to ask: + + 1. Ought Mr. Norris to let the Mills sink into a boneyard of + antiquity? + + 2. What is the very most money I could spend all in one lump and + can I spend it without telling anyone about it beforehand? + + 3. There's an empty cottage just below where the Manor road crosses + the river and Williams says the Forsyths own it. Can Beryl and I + use it for a club? + + Thinking of the questions makes me forget the other nine hundred + ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety seven, (I did that on + paper) but please come to Gray Manor soon so that I can ask the + rest. + + Your loving Red-Robin. + + P.S. The violin came and thanks ever and ever so much though Beryl + says she will not call it hers for one little minute. But she most + cried over it she loves it so and she makes the most beautiful + music with it. I am dreadfully jealous because she won't even + listen to a word I say now. She says she's living in the clouds. + It's wonderful to have a big dream, isn't it? But I am starting one + which I'll tell you when it's big enough." + +Mr. Allendyce read the letter three times, stopping at intervals to +polish his glasses as though they must be at fault. "What does this +mean?" he exclaimed over and over. "What's up?" + +Why on earth was Robin worrying her little head over the Mills and +talking so absurdly about a boneyard? And why did she want more money? +And who were these people with whom she had dined? And what did she and +Beryl want with a club when they had all Gray Manor to play in? + +Not able to answer any of these disturbing questions the poor man sought +out Miss Effie--who, having been a girl, once, herself, ought to know +something of the vagaries of a girl's mind. + +Miss Effie felt very proud that her brother cared anything for her +opinion. She nodded wisely and smiled reassuringly. + +"Girl notions--that's all. Don't worry over the foibles of growing +girls. It's one thing today and something else tomorrow." + +The guardian was not so easily reassured. "But Robin isn't like other +girls--" he began, with a disturbing recollection of Robin's +highhandedness in engaging a companion. + +"Tush! Bosh!" Miss Effie would not let him go on. "Girls are all alike +under their skins. This poor kiddie's been starved for nice things and +her sudden good fortune's gone to her head. She doesn't know the value +of money, either; what'd seem big to her would be carfare for you. Give +her more to do. And she ought to know some young folks." + +Now Cornelius Allendyce beamed fondly upon his sister. She _had_ +comforted him. Of course, Robin's subconscious self was reaching out to +touch the lives of others. In spite of their uncertain living she and +Jimmie were of a sociable sort--he ought not to have expected that she +would be content in Gray Manor with no outside interests. + +"Couldn't that tutor get up a party?" + +"That's a good idea, sister. I'll write to Tubbs. Probably the county's +expecting something of the sort, anyway. I suppose it ought to be rather +simple--she's so young and Madame Forsyth being away. I'll raise the +child's allowance, too--let her spend it if she can, bless her heart." + +His mind once more quite at ease, Cornelius Allendyce put Robin's letter +into his pocket. He would write to her the next day and to Percival +Tubbs. He ought to have consulted his sister sooner. Well, a guardian +learned something new every day, he told himself, with a smile. + + * * * * * + +No one had suspected the torment of thought that racked poor Robin's +head for the few days following the dinner-party. She had arisen that +next morning with the firm resolve to "be" a Forsyth, but she did not +know just what she ought to do first and there was no one to tell her. +Beryl was no more sympathetic than she had been the night before and had +answered her persistent questioning absentmindedly. However, +unknowingly, she did give two helpful hints, upon which Robin seized +gratefully. + +"Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have is a clubhouse like Miss +Lewis' place in New York. Mother took care of that, you know. Miss Lewis +is a wonder. She always declared children need fun just the way they +need milk and _she_ fixed it so that they got both." + +"Oh, yes, there are ever so many boys and girls in Wassumsic only +they're mostly working in the Mills. I'd have to work there myself only +I've made Dale believe that I can do something--else. If I ever started +in the old Mills I'd be like the others. That's the way--you begin and +then you never know how to do anything different." + +"I'm glad you're not there. I'm like--Dale. I know you'll be a wonderful +violinist some day!" Robin never failed to say what Beryl wanted. + +Beryl tossed her head. "I could have just settled down into a drudge, +working all day and too tired at night to care what I did and saving +just enough out of my pay envelope to buy me a hair-net but I wouldn't +begin! I wouldn't! They can all call me proud and lazy but I'll show +them--old Henri Jacques and Martini himself said I would! But I've had +to fight to make people believe me--and I s'pose I'll have to go on +fighting." To the egotism of sixteen years these words sounded very +grand; it stirred Beryl to think she had fought for every advantage that +was hers, to read the admiration in Robin's eyes. She had no thought of +disloyalty in claiming the credit that really belonged to the little +mother who had dreamed the dream first for her girl and then, through +years of work and self-denial, had lived for that dream to come true. + +After the arrival of the violin Beryl promptly lost herself in a trance +of rapture that left Robin to her own pursuits. Only once the quite +human thought flashed to her mind that Beryl might be a little bit +interested in what _she_ wanted to do but she put it away as unworthy +for, she told herself, Beryl, destined one day to stand on a pedestal, +could not be expected to bother with such every-day things as planning +"fun" for the Mill children. + +So Robin left Beryl with her beloved instrument and went alone to talk +to Mrs. Lynch who was so startled at her unexpected coming that she +kissed her and called her "little Robin" before she realized what she +was doing. That, and the fact that she found Mrs. Lynch working in the +shed where big Danny could not hear them, made it much easier for Robin +to talk and talk she did, so rapidly and so imploringly that Mrs. Moira +had to interject more than once: "Now wait a bit, dearie. What was that +again?" + +Robin wanted to know about how many Mill children there were. + +"Oh, bless the heart of you, it's no one but the doctor himself can tell +you that! They slip in and out of the world as quiet like. But Mrs. +Whaley says the school's so full that her Tommy can only go +afternoons." + +Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy brick building as the +schoolhouse. It had a play-yard enclosed on three sides with a high +board fence, disfigured by much scrawling. It had seemed an ugly spot. +She thought of that now. + +"And what do the girls--the girls like me--do?" + +"Oh, they mostly work. After work? Well, they help at home and do a bit +of sewing maybe and some have beaux and they walk down to the drug store +and hang around there visiting, though Beryl doesn't. 'Tisn't much of a +life a girl in a place like this has," and Mrs. Moira's sigh was happily +reminiscent of her own girlhood in open clean spaces, "it's old they +grow before their time." + +"They don't have much fun, do they?" Robin asked. + +Mrs. Lynch looked at her curiously. "Fun? They work so hard that they +haven't the gumption to start the fun. But it's so big the world is, +Miss Robin, that it can't all be rosy. Sure, there has to be some dark +corners." + +"Mrs. Lynch, if--if--someone started the fun for the girls--would they +like it?" + +"Why, what's on your mind, dearie? The likes of you worryin' your little +head over things you don't know anything about!" + +Robin could have cried with vexation. She _must_ make Mrs. Lynch +understand her--Mrs. Lynch was her one hope. She gave a little stamp of +her foot as she burst out: "I'm little but that's no reason I can't +think of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that the Forsyth's didn't care +and they ought to care--and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone in +the Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they do. And I want +them to have--fun. Beryl said your Miss Lewis said everyone ought to +have fun. I--I don't know just how to begin--but I'm going to." + +Mrs. Moira patted her hand. To herself she was saying: "The blessed +heart of her, she doesn't even know what she's talking about, poor +lamb," but aloud: "That you shall and if I can help you, I will." + +Robin's eyes glowed. "Oh, _thank_ you. You don't know how hard it is for +me to think just what to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head and +then I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about them--I just +have to feel them. I'd like to begin with the little children. If my +guardian says we may, can't we open that old cottage down by the bridge +and make it into a--a sort of play-house? There could be a play-yard and +next spring we could make gardens and we could fix one room up with +pretty pictures and have books and games--and a fireplace and +window-seats. Oh, _does_ that sound silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasm +to an abrupt, imploring finish. + +"Dearie me--no." There were no reserves in Mrs. Moira's approval. With +an imagination as quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage--it was a +charming old house, snuggled under elms, half-covered in summer with +rambling vines and pink blossoms--alive with romping, happy-voiced +children, some poring over pretty picture-books, others listening to a +story, some working in a garden--some just tumbling about on the soft +grass in a pure exuberance of youthful joy. + +"We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always think of names before +anything else. And maybe, some day, the older girls--girls like me--will +use it, too. I'd like to begin by knowing little Susy Castle." + +Mrs. Lynch promised to take her the next day to the old village where +Susy lived. + +"I'll come down right after our school work is over. Beryl won't mind +because she'll want to practice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tell +Dale, will you?" + +Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already she had been looking forward to +telling Dale about Robin and her plans. But Robin stood firm. + +"You see I may spoil everything and he'd think I was just stupid. I +don't want him to know--yet." + +Robin walked back to the Manor with a light heart. Her world that had +always seemed so small, bounded on its every side by Jimmie, now +suddenly assumed limitless proportions and beautiful possibilities. +There was so much to be done and so much to think about. Tomorrow she +would see Susy Castle; maybe other boys and girls. + +Lights were twinkling from some of the windows of the Manor. Robin +paused for a moment at the bottom of the long ascent to "love" the Manor +in its purple cloak of gathering dusk. That first Forsyth who had broken +ground for this gray pile had chosen well; the hill upon which the house +had been built stood apart from the other hills, loftily commanding the +village and valley. + +"It looks just like a grand old lady holding off her skirts so's not to +touch anything," Robin thought, now, whimsically. + +As though to crown her day's progress toward "being" a Forsyth, Robin +found a letter from her guardian awaiting her. Cornelius Allendyce had +written it keeping in mind his sister's advice not to notice a girl's +"foibles"--"it's one thing today and another tomorrow." + + "... I am delighted that you are happy and finding so much to + occupy your time. Do not worry about your lessons. Not all + knowledge is confined within the covers of school books. (He had + read that somewhere and thought it came in very pat, now.) How + about some sort of a party. You ought to know the people of the + country before the winter sets in. Think it over and decide what + you want. I will double your allowance if you haven't enough. If + you need a club to make you happy, help yourself. Don't worry + about the Mills--let Norris do that. I'll run up to Wassumsic very + soon and answer as many questions as you may wish to ask. Until + then, I am + + Devotedly yours, + CORNELIUS ALLENDYCE." + +"Beryl--read this! I may use that old cottage. I believe my guardian'll +do everything I ask when he understands. He's a _dear_!" + +Beryl came slowly down from her "clouds." + +"Robin--listen to _this_ vibrato!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SUSY CASTLE + + +The Forsyth Mills had built Wassumsic--in truth, Wassumsic _was_ the +Forsyth's Mills. It had had its beginning in that first small mill where +the first Forsyth worked in his shirt-sleeves; a cluster of houses had +sprung up close to the river, a store, more houses, more stores, a +tavern, a church, a school. And as the Mills grew, so grew the village. +For themselves the Forsyth family had built the stone house on the hill, +that looked, indeed, like a grand old woman holding off her skirts from +contamination. And that lofty apartness had always been the attitude of +the Forsyth family to the workaday life in the village. + +The growth of the village had been toward the railroad so that the first +Mill houses had been left by themselves "up the river" and were commonly +known as the "old village." They were so old that they were not worth +keeping in repair and so close to the river that they were damp the year +round and for these very good reasons were offered to the mill workers +at a low rental. Many of the mill workers--such as Dale--looked upon +them as a disgrace to the Mills and felt a hot anger in their hearts +when they thought of them--but unfortunates like the Castles were glad +to move into the worst of them. + +The short walk from the Mills to the old village skirted the river and +was overhung with a double row of willows which, on this wintry day, +cast long purple shadows. Robin, walking along it with Mrs. Lynch, +thought it lovely and solemn--like a cathedral aisle. But when they +stopped before a low cottage, one window nailed across with boards where +the panes were missing, the front door propped in place by a rotting +rail tie, tin cans and frozen refuse littering the strip of yard, and +Mrs. Lynch said "This is the house," she wanted to cry out in protest at +the ugliness. They had to pick their way around to a back door upon +which Mrs. Lynch knocked. Several moments elapsed before the door swung +back a little way, a round black eye peered at them cautiously, and a +shrill voice piped "whachy'want?" + +"I s'pose that's Susy," thought Robin, her heart skipping a beat with a +terror of shyness. + +Mrs. Lynch's pleasant: "We want to see Granny," admitted them. Robin, +blinded for the first moment of coming into the darkness of the room +from the bright sunshine outside, stumbled over a chair and in her +confusion mumbled some incoherent answer to the shrill cackle of welcome +that came from the shrunken bit of humanity bending over a small stove. + +"Poor Granny doesn't understand who you are," explained Mrs. Lynch, in +an apologetic whisper, touching her head significantly. "Come here, +Susy," and she motioned the staring child to her. Susy approached with +the hang-back step of a child or a dog not always certain of what he may +get but Mrs. Lynch magically produced a round cookie, fat with currants, +and Susy sprang at her with a quick leap. + +The room was heavy with stale air and bare of any comforts. A tattered +First Reader lay on the greasy floor, unwashed dishes cluttered the bare +pine table, on every available shelf and in every corner were piled old +cans and bottles and half-filled paper bags. On a what-not in the corner +a faded bunch of pink paper roses drooped over a cracked vase. The +wallpaper, its ugly pattern mercifully faded, was fantastically streaked +from the dampness, in one corner the ceiling plaster had fallen and +newspapers had been tacked over the laths to keep out the cold. + +A sickening revulsion, a longing to escape into the sweet crisp air +swept Robin. She shrank away into a corner for fear the dreadful old +Granny might touch her. But she _must_ say something! She had come here +for a purpose--to know Susy. + +At that moment Susy's voice pealed out in a merry, piping laugh--because +she had put her small finger into her cookie and pulled out a fat round +currant! And something in the laugh touched the spark to the mothering +instinct strong in Robin's young heart--the mothering instinct that had +caused her bitter anguish over Cynthia's loss, that had taught her how +to care for her Jimmie, and had given her strength to run away from her +Jimmie that he might have his "chance." She forgot the dirty +surroundings, the old Granny in her rags and her crown of wispy gray +hair, she saw only the child's face, lightened with joy, and laughed +with Susy as Susy held out the currant on the end of an uplifted--and +very dirty--finger. + +The ice broken, Susy made friends quickly. She leaned her thin little +self against Robin's knee and stared with rapture into Robin's face. +Like Granny she could not seem to realize that Robin was a Forsyth; to +her she was "a big girl" and big girls did not come to the house now +that Sarah had died. She timidly touched Robin's soft coat sleeve with a +rough, sticky hand and poked at the bright buttons of Robin's blouse, +her eyes round with wonder. + +Afterward, after Robin and Mrs. Lynch had, with some difficulty, broken +away from Susy's clinging and Granny's childish lamentations, and were +walking back through the "cathedral aisle" Robin gave herself a little +shake as though to rouse herself from some nightmare. + +"Oh, Mrs. Lynch, it's dreadful!" + +"What, dearie?" Mrs. Lynch had been thinking that Granny Castle couldn't +be one of the Castle's of her old-country county. + +"That place. Are they all like that? How can they live?" + +Mrs. Lynch hesitated a moment and there was a perceptible tightening of +her tender lips. + +"Well, dearie, people _have_ to live--life goes on in spite of things. +Maybe poor old Granny wishes real often it'd been her that had been +taken instead of that poor Sarah. Things weren't so bad for them when +Sarah lived--they say. She was an up-and-doing girl and kept things nice +though she had to work hard to do it, poor little thing. It's in the +hospital that old woman should be with some one to wait on her and keep +her warm. No one but little Susy--" + +"I forgot all I'd planned to say! Susy looked so cold, Mrs. Lynch. I +hated my nice warm clothes." + +"Oh, Susy was warm enough. She's a bright child, she is. When she's a +bit older things will ease up." + +Robin remembered what Beryl had said of the girls in Wassumsic having +nothing else to do but go into the Mills. Susy would grow older and take +Sarah's place. But what if she didn't want to? What happened to the "big +girls" who didn't want to go into the Mills? Robin could hear Beryl's +contemptuous: "Why they haven't a chance in the world." Well, anyway, +someone could make the Mills so nice that the girls would _want_ to work +in them. "I wish I were big!" cried Robin with such passion that Mrs. +Lynch, not knowing her train of thought, had a sudden qualm at taking a +sensitive little thing like Miss Robin to poor old Granny Castle's. + +"Now, dearie, don't you worry. Things come out somehow--in the next +world maybe for the Granny Castles, but they do. Now that idea of yours +of fixing that cottage--" + +"Oh, I forgot to tell you! My guardian says I may. At least he said that +if I wanted a club, to help myself, and that must mean he consents. He's +a dear. Have you time to go there with me now and just peek into it? I'm +sure we can get in." + +"I'll take the time," cried Mrs. Moira with an interest as eager as +Robin's. "I'll just drop in and tell my Danny when we go past--it's so +lonesome he gets when I'm slow coming." + +Robin's House of Laughter looked a little deserted standing alone in the +shadow of the hillside, gaunt branches creaking over its low roof, the +ends of the trailing vines whipping restlessly against the gray +clapboards. But Robin and Mrs. Lynch saw it as they wanted it to +be--neatly painted, its windows curtained, its yard trimmed, its +doorstep dignified by a broad inviting step, and flanked by a trellis +for the rambling rose vine. The door opened for them in the most +promising way and they tiptoed into a big bare room with two windows at +one end looking out over the hills and river. + +"Isn't this nice?" cried Robin in delighted staccato. "It's just made +for what we want. Look--a fireplace!" To be sure, it was nothing more +than a gap in the wall. "And these darling windows. We can put a seat +way across, all comfy." She promptly saw, in her mind, Susy curled upon +it with a beautiful picture book and a handful of cookies. "Oh, let's +see the rest. Look, a cunning kitchen. The children can play cooking. +And this room--what can we use this room for?" + +Mrs. Lynch was thinking rapidly. Because of her experience with Miss +Lewis she saw possibilities way beyond Robin's eager planning--class +rooms where the older girls could learn other trades--a domestic science +class in the kitchen for the mothers--a sewing room, a library full of +instructive and entertaining books, and the big living room where the +children could gather after school hours, and the men and women and big +boys and girls in the evening. And a playground outside--and gardens. + +"Can't we fix it up right away?" Robin's eager questioning brought her +sharply out of her dream to a practical realization that all the House +of Laughter had as endowment was an unselfish girl's enthusiasm. + +"Harkness will help if I ask him and maybe Williams, too. And Mrs. +Williams." + +"It's quite tidy for standing empty so long," mused Mrs. Lynch, sweeping +the bare rooms with an appraising eye. "That stove's good as new under +the rust." + +"Oh, you _will_ help, won't you? I can't do anything without you." + +"That I will, Miss Robin." Mrs. Moira promised with no thought of the +added tax it must be on her energy. "It's a beginning everything has to +have and you get your Harkness man and some brooms and some soap and +we'll have your little House of Laughter ready to begin in no time." + +A half hour later Robin burst upon Beryl absorbed in her practicing. + +"Oh, _please_ listen," she cried and without waiting for encouragement +poured out her precious plans. Beryl obediently listened but with an odd +surprise tugging at her attentiveness--this Robin seemed different, full +of a fire that was quite new, and all over fixing up that old place for +the Mill kids. To Beryl, wrapped in her own precious ambition, that +seemed a ridiculous waste of energy. However she concealed her scorn, +affected a lively interest and put in a few helpful suggestions. + +"Mr. Tubbs has been hunting for you," she suddenly informed Robin. "I +heard him talking to Harkness about a party. Your guardian's written to +him, I guess." + +"Oh, _dear_!" cried Robin, in dismay. She remembered what Mr. Allendyce +had written to her. A party would be terrible! + +"I should think you'd think it was fun--and with all your pretty +clothes. It's exciting meeting people, too. If _I_ were you--" + +Beryl simply wouldn't finish--there were so many things she would do if +she were Gordon Forsyth, she could not begin to name them. + +Robin's doleful face betrayed her state of mind. + +"What will I have to do?" + +"That depends upon what kind of a party it is." Beryl felt flattered +that Robin should appeal to her. "And I should think you'd have the say. +_I_ certainly would. Receptions are stiff and dinners aren't much fun. I +think a dance--" + +"But I can't dance. And I never went to a young party in my life!" + +"Well, you're Gordon Forsyth, now, and you'll have to do lots of things +you never did before," reminded Beryl, a comical sternness edging her +voice. + +An hour before, in her empty House of Laughter, poor Robin had thrilled +at the thought of "being" a Forsyth; now, alas, her heart sank to her +boots under the weight of these new obligations she must face. Nor was +she cheered when Mr. Tubbs found her and laid his plans before her. Mr. +Tubbs, short of memory, always carried his thoughts on neat little slips +of paper over-written with memoranda. He fluttered some of these now +before Robin's eyes and Robin saw that they contained lists of names. + +"A party--your guardian is quite right--we were remiss--of course Madame +would have wished--in the old days--it must be at least an at-home--yes, +an at-home--I have found the cards of the best people of the county in +Madame's desk--Harkness will know who of them have died--yes, an +at-home, say from four to seven--Mr. Allendyce and his sister will come +to help you receive--I will talk to Budge--yes--" Mr. Tubbs rarely +finished a sentence. He always spoke as though he were thinking +memoranda aloud, and punctuated his words with little tugs at his silky +Van Dyke beard. + +Robin had a rebellious impulse to snatch the fluttering lists from his +long fingers and tear the "best people of the county" into tiny bits but +she remembered what Beryl had said about a Forsyth having to do many +things, smothered a sigh, and said meekly: "I don't know much about +parties." + +"My dear young lady, experience will teach you. They are important--yes, +for one of your station--important as your books. I will see +Budge--about the date--yes." + +"Old grandmother!" cried Beryl, as Mr. Tubbs went off in search of the +housekeeper. "An at-home!" She mimicked his precise tones. "Of all the +tiresome things. He'll invite a lot of doddering old women who'll come +and look you over _this_ way!" Beryl lifted an imaginary lorgnette to +her eyes. "Why didn't you say you'd like a regular party and just have +young people--there's a boys' school only ten miles from here and it +would have been such fun. Of course I couldn't have come down but I +could watch you--" + +"Beryl Lynch, you _are_ coming down or I won't stir one foot. You shall +pick out one of my dresses and we'll make it longer or something. And I +think a party with boys I don't know would be lots more terrible than +an at-home. All I hope is that he makes the date soon so that it will be +over with." + +Percival Tubbs, inwardly much annoyed at having the peaceful routine of +his days at the Manor thus disturbed, was as anxious as Robin to have +the party over with. After due deliberation with Mrs. Budge he fixed the +date for a day two weeks ahead. Mrs. Budge insisted she needed that much +time to make "things look like anything." + +Budge and Harkness welcomed the party as a beginning of the "change" +they had prayed might come to Gray Manor. + +"It'll be some'at like old times," Harkness had declared. + +"That chit won't look like much," (poor Budge had not yet forgiven Robin +for being a girl) "but it'll make talk if she ain't shown. Talk enough +for Madame going away like she did. I've half a mind to get out the gold +plate. That old Mis' Crosswaithe from Sharon'll be over here the first +of any, peeking around and she ain't going to see how things are going +to sixes and sevens. No one else ain't either or my name ain't Hannah +Budge. It ain't." And Budge squared her shoulders as a challenge to an +inquisitive world. + +Harkness, while he anxiously watched the weather, grew loquacious over +the old times. "This house has known great parties, missy," he told +Robin. "The best lydies from miles 'round coming in their carriages. +The Crosswaithes, from Sharon, before old Mr. Crosswaithe died. And the +Cullens and the Grangers--she as was the daughter of a gov'nor. The +Manor was the finest place in the county and things were done right here +and as gay as could be." He launched forth on a long description of +Christopher the Third's eighteenth birthday party. "He come up from +school, missy, with his friends and the young lydies come from New York +and some from these parts and the house was as gay, what with flowers +and palms and music and their talk. And the young master's table was +laid in the conservatory--and the olders sat in the dining-room and Held +come from New York--the best caterer, missy--" + +Robin and Beryl listened with breathless interest--Robin with a moment's +vision of that handsome lad laughing and talking with the "young lydies +from New York." How dreadful, she thought, that only a few months after +that brilliant affair he should have been killed--he would have been +about twenty-four, now--and would have been such a splendid Forsyth, +while she was so small and insignificant. + +"These automobiles are all very well, missy, but if it snows--" and +Harkness scowled through the window at the darkening sky. + +"Do you mean, if it snows--no one will come?" + +"I'm not thinking that, missy, but not so many--the Grangers and their +young people." + +Robin refrained from saying she hoped it _would_ snow, for if Harkness +and Budge enjoyed fussing over the dreadful party she did not want to +spoil their anticipation. + +The entire house seemed ridiculously astir over the approaching event; +extra help came from the village, the air throbbed with the hum of +vacuum cleaners, chairs and tables were beaten with a frenzied +thoroughness, tables polished, everything dusted. Certainly, no one +_was_ going to see that things were going to sixes and sevens! + +Robin and Beryl busied themselves making over one of Robin's dresses for +Beryl, a process to which Beryl consented only after a stormy scene and +tears on Robin's part. + +Robin's plans for her House of Laughter had to be tucked away for the +time, and when she sighed now and then over her ripping and stitching it +was because she'd so much rather be making frilly, crispy curtains for +those little windows. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A GIFT TO THE QUEEN + + +By no means had the girls forgotten their Dowager Queen of Altruria. +They talked of her often; Beryl usually in a speculative vein. Had she +brought the court jewels with her? Did that dreadful Brina kneel on one +knee and kiss the hem of her garment? Did she ever wear her crown? + +Royalty meant much more to Beryl than it did to Robin, for Beryl +attached to it a personal interest. Would she not, as sure as anything, +sometime play before crowned heads by royal command? Sometimes, lying +wide-eyed in the dark, she pictured herself at such a moment, gorgeously +gowned, and delightfully disdainful of the bejeweled, becrowned, stately +kings and queens and little princelings, dukes and duchesses and earls +and countesses, all hanging on the exquisite notes she drew from her +strings. After she finished they would forget their crowns and things +and fall upon her in a sort of humble adoration. Beryl shivered +exquisitely, she could make the picture so very real! Now, when she +dreamed, the queens and duchesses looked like the mysterious mistress of +the house by the Rushing Water. + +Robin thought of their Dowager Queen of Altruria as perhaps being a +little lonely, sometimes. With everyone, now, watching the weather in +anxious dread of a snowstorm, it occurred to her that such a storm +would shut the little house near the Rushing Water off from the world. + +"Beryl, let's go and see our Dowager! It may be the last time we can +until Spring. I'd like to take her something, too. Something Christmasy. +Christmas is only two weeks off and think how dreadful to spend +Christmas all by yourself." + +Beryl thought both the visit and the gift a fine idea and set her wits +to working to contrive an offering suitable for one of the Dowager's +station in life. + +She suggested helping themselves to what the Manor had to offer, for, +certainly, Robin, being a Forsyth, had such a "right." + +"Flowers and fruit and maybe a book. It would never be missed and you +could take one of these that hasn't anything written in the front. See, +here's a collection of Dante's poems--it's as good as new. And who'd +ever want it with all these other books here?" + +Beryl's reasoning seemed logical and Robin put aside a tiny doubt she +had as to her right to "help herself" to even a very small volume. Some +day she could explain to her Aunt Mathilde that she had given it to a +nice old lady who lived all alone. + +The girls filled a huge basket with luscious fruit from Budge's +storehouse, and gay flowers from the conservatory, and concealed the +little book under the bright foliage. They decided, after much +deliberation, to let Williams into their secret, and show him their +offering, so that he would surely consent to drive them to Rushing +Waters. + +"We'll just about get it in before the snow comes," agreed Williams, +scanning the sky with that anxiety to which Robin had grown very +familiar. "A Queen, you say? Well, what do you think of that!" He +laughed uproariously. + +"We're not exactly _sure_, but we have our suspicions," corrected Beryl +in a freezing tone. + +"And please don't tell a soul because we really have no right to force +ourselves on her if she wants to hide away," begged Robin. + +Williams promised with a chuckle. "Funny kids," he said to himself, +enjoying, nevertheless, the adventure. "I'll do the sleuth stuff in the +corner store while you two are interviewing the Duchess--I beg pardon, +the Queen." + +The girls left Williams, as he suggested, at the little store, while +they, tugging their basket between them, found and followed the path by +the Rushing Water. It was as alluring as ever--berries still clung to +the undergrowth, gleaming red against the dark of the fir trees; the +dead leaves underfoot crackled softly as though protesting their +intrusion; there was a whirring of wings and always the rush of the +water. + +"I'd forgotten how spooky it was," cried Beryl, drawing in her breath. + +"I hope she won't be sorry we came." + +This time Robin knocked. As before, Brina opened the door a little way. +When she saw the two girls she scowled, but stepped backward, announcing +their presence in crisp German. + +The mistress of the house rose a little hastily from the table before +which she was sitting. She was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe of +soft velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and crossing over her +breast, where it was held in place by a brooch of flashing gems. At +sight of her visitors her face softened from haughty surprise to a +resigned amusement. Robin broke the silence. + +"May we come in? We thought we'd like--that maybe you'd like--" Oh, it +was dreadful to know what to say, when all the time you were thinking +she really was a Queen! + +"You have stumbled upon my little house again? Come in and sit down. +Brina and I do not often have callers; you must pardon us if, perhaps, +we are a little awkward in our hospitality. Caesar, lie down _He_ is glad +to see you! I have been looking over a book of colored prints of old +cathedrals. Would you like to pull your chairs up to the table and look +at them with me?" + +Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to say: "Isn't that just +what an exiled Queen would be doing?" The prints were rare and +exceedingly lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from a New York +gallery. Their hostess told them of some of the quaint cathedral towns +and the stories of the cathedrals themselves. Robin, who had an +inherited appreciation of beauty, listened eagerly, putting in now and +then a question or a statement of such intelligence that the "Dowager +Queen" studied her with interest. + +Beryl, thrilled by the ermine and the gleaming brooch, did not care a +fig about the cathedrals but sat back in a rapture of speculation. There +seemed something in the stately head with its crown of white hair, +vaguely, tantalizingly familiar; she must have seen pictures of the +Queen of Altruria somewhere. She watched each gesture and fitted it to +her dream. This Queen who seemed really truly friendly now and almost +human, might go back some day to Altruria, wherever that was, and of +course, when _she_ toured Europe, or maybe even when she was there +studying, she could go and stay at the Palace just like a relative. It +would be fun to visit in a palace and smile at all the fuss and crowns +and things because you were an American and didn't believe in them. + +"Oh, we forgot our basket!" cried Robin, suddenly darting to the door +where Brina had, with a sniff, dropped their precious offering. "We +brought these--for a Christmas greeting." + +"They are lovely," cried the "Queen" with sincere delight, her eyes +drinking in hungrily the beauty of the exotic blossoms--for Robin and +Beryl had helped themselves to the best the Manor had. "And fruit--ah, +Brina's heart will rejoice. What is this?" Her slender, shapely hands +fussed over the wrappings of the book, while Robin and Beryl watched. + +"Why--" The Queen turned the book over and over, her face bent so that +its expression was hidden. The girls' delight gave way, now, to +concern--the Queen held the book so long and with such curious +intentness that they wondered, anxiously, if there were anything about +Dante's verses displeasing to a Queen of Altruria. "You never _can_ tell +about those jealous kingdoms over there!" Beryl said afterwards. + +After their hostess had "most worn the book out staring at it" she +lifted her eyes and fixed a curious gaze upon her visitors. + +"This is a rare little treasure," she said in a queer tone. "And may I +not know how it came into your possession--and who you are?" + +Robin's heart jumped into her throat. What had they done? It had looked +like any book except that the leather of the binding seemed softer than +most books and smelled very nice and there were beautiful colored +illustrations inside--but the Queen said it was a rare book and was +wondering where they had gotten it. Perhaps they had helped themselves +to the Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked frantically at +Beryl, who, guessing her intention, gave violent signs of warning, to +which she paid no heed. + +"Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch who lives with me at +the Manor. We took the book from the library there because there are +ever and ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely--when winter +comes--and enjoy it." + +"You are Robin Forsyth?" The old lady said the words slowly. + +"My real name is Gordon Forsyth, but I've always been called Red-Robin. +I'm living at Gray Manor now--over in Wassumsic. My father--he's not one +of the rich Forsyths, you see--is an artist and he's travelling with Mr. +Tony Earle, who writes, you know. I wish you could come to the Manor." +Robin's heart was light now, having, by confession, cleared itself of +its moment's dread, and she rattled on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowl +and the Queen's searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. Madame +Forsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though--at least now. She's--she's +travelling. We have a tutor and I have a guardian who lets me do about +what I please. You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I was a +boy--the Forsyths have always _been_ boys; and it was a dreadful shock, +I guess, when my guardian found out I was a girl--and such a small +girl--and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten that, now. But the +housekeeper never _will_ forgive me. And my great-aunt doesn't know, +yet. I wish for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome young +man like young Christopher Forsyth who died--but I can't, so I'm just +going to be as good a Forsyth as I can and make up to them all +for--being a girl." + +"Whom do you mean--'them all?'" asked the Queen. She had dropped into a +chair and turned her head toward the fire, in very much the same +attitude she had held upon their first visit. + +Robin, encouraged, squatted on the hearth rug, the big dog beside her, +and clasped her hands over her knee. + +"Oh, I don't mean just Madame Forsyth and my guardian, though I don't +think he cares, now, or that cross old housekeeper; I mean--all the Mill +people. You see the Mills have grown very fast and there are lots and +lots of people working in them, but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent, +is very old-fashioned and he'll never improve things." Robin racked her +brains to recall Dale's and Adam Kraus' exact words. "He's letting the +people live in awful houses and they don't have any fun or--or anything. +And Dale--he's Beryl's brother--says they'd work much better if they had +everything nice. _He_ says the Forsyths don't care, that they just think +of the Mill people as parts of a machine to make money for them, and not +as human beings. Why, there was a girl, Sarah Castle--" and Robin, her +tongue loosed, told eloquently of Sarah Castle and of Susy and Granny +and the old cottage "up the river," and then--because it made it seem so +real to tell about it--of her House of Laughter. + +"Of course," she finished, "if I were a boy I could do much more--or +even if I were big. You see, there's been what Mr. Harkness calls a +gloom over the Manor for a long time; and my great-aunt's been so sad +over that that she couldn't think of anything else--and maybe I'll be +doing something if I just show the Mill people that a Forsyth, even if +she's only a girl, _does_ care--a little bit. Don't you think so?" + +At her appeal the Dowager Queen turned such a haughty face upon her and +answered in such a cold voice: "I'm sure I do not know," that Robin +turned crimson with embarrassment. Of course, a Queen could not even be +remotely interested in the Manor and the Mills--especially if she had to +worry over a whole kingdom herself. She had been silly to rattle on the +way she had! + +Brina, quite unknowingly, came to the rescue with a tray of cakes and a +pot of cocoa. + +Their hostess, her annoyance put aside, smiled graciously again, and +poured the cocoa into little cups while the firelight flashed from the +brooch on her dress. Brina went back and forth with heavy tread, +sullenly watchful of her mistress' smallest need. The girls sat close to +the table upon which still lay the book of cathedral prints and sipped +their cocoa and ate their cakes. The wintry sun shone in through the +curtained windows, giving the room, with its pale glow, a melancholy +cheerfulness. + +"Must you really go?" asked their hostess, politely, when, a half-hour +later, Robin and Beryl exclaimed at the lateness of the hour. + +"Why, we never meant to stay so long! It has been so nice." Robin +wondered, if she held out her hand, would the Queen take it? She +ventured it with such a shy, appealing movement that the old lady +clasped it in hers, then dropped it abruptly, as though annoyed by her +own impulsiveness. + +"The afternoon has passed very pleasantly for me." The Queen's voice was +measuredly polite. "I thank you for thinking of me--in my out-of-the-way +corner, and bringing me such lovely gifts." Her eyes turned from the +flowers which Brina had put in a squat pewter pitcher to the book which +lay on the table. Then she turned to Robin and levelled a glance upon +her which held a queer challenge. + +"If you succeed--with your--what did you call it--House of Laughter, let +me know, sometime. I shall be most interested in your experiment." + +"Then she _was_ listening," thought Robin, wondering at the bitter tone +in the woman's voice. "Maybe she's so lonely and so unhappy she hates to +think of laughter." + +"Well, Red-Robin Forsyth, you certainly did spill everything you knew +and a lot more besides," cried Beryl, when the two were alone. "As if a +Queen cared a fig! I tried to head you off a couple of times." Beryl +laughed scornfully. "It was _funny_!" + +Robin still smarted from her recent embarrassment; she did not relish +Beryl's laughing at her. + +"We had to talk about something," she cried in defence. + +"Well, if you'd given me a chance I'd have talked about things that are +happening in Europe. Sort of led her on, you know, so's maybe she'd give +herself away. _That's_ what _I_ wanted--to find out something about +_her_ instead of telling all about ourselves. Here she knows everything +about you and you notice she didn't say one word about herself! The +whole afternoon's wasted and we might as well not've gone at all. I +wanted to get something on her so's maybe--some day--" Disgusted, Beryl +broke off abruptly, quickening her step to show her companion her +displeasure. + +Robin limped in silence after her; she _had_ talked too much, the Queen +was probably laughing at her now--and Beryl was angry and disgusted. + +Beryl forgot her moment's displeasure, however, when Williams imparted +to them the "dope" he had on the "Queen-dame," gleaned from the old +storekeeper. + +"Old Si says the 'queer party' bought that house off up there last fall +suddenly and moved up from somewhere or t'other with a truck load of +stuff. The Big-gun, beg pardon, I mean the Queen, came herself, with +some sort of a body-guard in an enclosed car, that went away after it'd +landed them in the woods. Si's sore, I suppose, because they get 'their +vittles sent up from New York'--though I don't know as I blame them from +what I saw in his store. Says the 'queer party' walks through the +village sometimes, but she's always with her body-guard and a big dog, +and wears a heavy veil 'like them furrin' women'." Williams chuckled as +he tried to give to his little account the touches Si had put into it. + +Beryl caught Robin's hand in an ecstasy of delight. "There. _That_ +settles it as sure as anything. I'd like to write to somebody in +Washington and tell what we know and maybe we'd get a reward. Royalty +most always has a price on its head," Beryl finished grandly. + +Robin wanted to protest at the thought of there being a price on that +snow-white head, but not certain as to how far she had been restored in +Beryl's favor, she refrained, and merely smiled in assent to Beryl's +excitement. + +"We've got to hurry back if we beat that cloud yonder," declared +Williams, nodding toward a gathering bank of dark clouds in the western +sky, and the mention of snow brought back to the girls the approaching +party. + +It did snow--long before Williams reached the Manor, so that the car was +covered; throughout the dinner Harkness went again and again to the +window to peer out, always turning back with the worried announcement: +"It's still coming down." And at bedtime Robin, peeping out, saw a world +blanketed white. Even Mr. Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon his soft +pillow with the regretful thought: "Now the Grangers cannot come. A +pity. Yes." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE PARTY + + +The household at Gray Manor looked upon the heavy fall of snow with +varying emotions. Harkness lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off for +Missy's party. If it was the old days--well, the county lydies could a' +come in their sleighs. All right as far as the post road goes, but the +Grangers--" + +Downstairs Budge rejoiced that the Grangers might not come. "Eyes like a +ferret that woman has and like as not she never got over our boy's +going. She'd say things _was_ going to sixes and sevens, with a little +thing no bigger'n a penny in our boy's shoes--she would. But I'd like to +know who ever'll eat all the stuff I'm fixing!" The house cleaned to a +fine polish from attic to cellar, Mrs. Budge had turned her attention +most generously to the food. + +"Why does everyone care about Mrs. Granger?" asked Robin, of Harkness, +when even Percival Tubbs regretted, with a sigh, that Mrs. Granger might +not find it possible to come. + +"Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame herself," explained +Harkness. "In the old days her people and the Manor people were thick +like and visited backward and forward. And there was talk of young +Christopher some day marrying the young lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tell +his death was a sad blow to them. They haven't been coming much to the +Manor since, but we laid it to Madame's queer ways and the gloom." + +"Will the others be able to come? Won't Mrs. Budge have _lots_ too much +food?" + +"Well, you might say most will make it, for they keep the post roads +open. We'll hope for the best, missy," he added, interpreting Robin's +anxious questioning as an expression of disappointment. + +But Robin's sudden concern over the party had nothing to do with the +coming of Mrs. Granger or anyone else. As she had stood in the window, +her nose flattened against the pane, staring out at the snowy slopes, +she had been suddenly inspired by a beautiful plan. She turned to Beryl. + +"Can something be sent up from New York in a day?" + +"Depends." Beryl answered shortly. "What?" + +With one of the lightning-like decisions, characteristic of her, Robin +decided not to take Beryl into her confidence--just yet. + +"Oh, I was thinking. Something about my party. I'll tell you--later." + +Beryl stared at Robin a little suspiciously--Robin looked queer, +all-tight-inside, as though she'd made up her mind to do something. It +was the new Robin again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell-- + +After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer garments and slipped out of +the house while Beryl was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fully +grown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch. + +Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted down Mrs. Budge, whom +she found mixing savory concoctions in a huge bowl. + +"M'm, how good things smell," she began, to break down the hostility she +saw in Budge's eye, "Is that for the party?" + +"'S going to be," and Budge stirred more vigorously than ever. + +"Mrs. Budge, will there be enough food for--some extra ones--I've +invited or I'm--going to invite?" + +Budge dropped her spoon. "Well, no one ever went hungry in _this_ +house," she answered crisply. "May I ask who _your_ guests are?" Budge +permitted herself the pleasure of a meaning inflection on the "your." + +"Well, I'm not quite sure--yet, only I wanted to know about the food--" +Robin retreated step by step toward the door, her limp exaggerated by +the movement. "I'm waiting for word from my guardian." + +"_Robin_! Humph," Budge flung at the door as it closed upon the girl. +"If it wasn't that this house depended on me I'd drop my spoon and walk +out this minit, I would, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. Guests! Like as +not some of these Mill truck." + +More than the snowstorm threatened the success of Robin's "at-home." For +Cornelius Allendyce was suddenly prostrated by a bad attack of +sciatica. And his sister declared she could not leave him; at such times +only her patient and faithful ministrations eased his intense suffering. + +"I'll telephone to Wassumsic right away and don't you worry," she begged +of him, "they'll get along somehow or other." + +"They'll have to," the guardian growled, between groans. + +But before Miss Effie could telephone, Robin's telegram came. Cornelius +Allendyce opened it with indifferent fingers, read it, then rose upright +with such suddenness that a loud cry of pain burst from him. + +"Will you listen to this? That child wants me to express fifty sleds to +the Manor, at once! Read it and see if I've gone crazy." + +"There, there, lie still, Cornelius--I don't care if she wants fifty +sleds or fifty hundred. Send them to her and wait until you're well to +find out if she coasted on all of them or wanted them for kindling wood. +There--I knew it'd make your pain worse. Wait--I'll warm this!" All +solicitous, for her brother's face had twisted in agony, the sister +dropped the telegram and busied herself over her patient. + +Her advice seemed good. "Well, send them. Tell them to rush the order," +he groaned, then gave himself over to his suffering with, somewhere back +in his head, the thought that there was quite a bit more to being a +guardian than he had calculated. + +So while Harkness and Budge and Mrs. Williams, pressed into service, +made the old Manor festive with flowers and pine boughs, Robin completed +the plans for her part of the party, and confided to Beryl that fifty of +the Mill youngsters were coming to the Manor to coast on the sloping +hillside. + +"Robin Forsyth, what ever will they all say?" + +"Who?" demanded Robin, with aggravating innocence. + +"All the guests. Why, Robin, you're hopeless! You simply can't get it +into your head that the Forsyths are different from--the Mill people." + +"They're not. And we haven't time to argue now. They're coming--a lot of +them. Your mother invited them for me through the school teacher--you +see, there wasn't time for me to, because I didn't know where the +younger children lived. My guardian has sent on the duckiest sleds--all +red. Williams brought them up and they're out in the garage. He's going +to take charge of my part of the party." + +"Does Budge know?" + +Robin hated to admit that she had been afraid to tell Budge. She flushed +ever so slightly. "N-no. At least I told her there were some extra +coming. Oh, Beryl, _don't_ act as though you thought everything was +going to be a failure. I thought--as long as there was going to be this +stupid old reception here and lots of nice food, it was the _only_ time +to have a party for the kiddies, for Budge would never cook a crumb if +it were just for them. I wish my guardian were here--I _know_ he'd +understand." + +"Where are they going to eat?" + +"The ladies? Oh, the children. I've told Harkness to put a table in the +conservatory and make it Christmasy." + +"You're clever, Robin. Harkness will do it for you--but, oh, he'll hate +it; I can hear him--'things aren't like they used to be.' As my father'd +say-you're killing the goose that lays the golden egg, all righto. Budge +will tell Madame, sure's anything." + +"What do you mean?" asked Robin quietly, a little gleam in her eyes. + +"Why, stupid, the Forsyths aren't going to stand for that sort of thing. +They'll send you back--" + +"Beryl, do you think I'm staying here for the Forsyth money--or--or care +about it? I came here so that Jimmie could go away without worrying +about me. When he comes home I shall go back to him, of course." + +"Leave Gray Manor?" Beryl's voice rang incredulously. + +"Of course. I like it here and there are lots of things I want to do, +but when Jimmie comes back--if he wants me--" her voice trembled. + +Beryl stared at Robin as though she saw a strange creature in the +familiar guise. "You _are_ the queerest girl. You don't seem to care for +the things money can get for you!" She had to pause, to pick her words. +"Why, if _I_ had the chance--all the advantages, and taking lovely +trips, and the fun. You could go to one of these girls' schools and play +tennis and golf and ride horseback! And always have pretty clothes!" The +bitter edge to Beryl's voice betrayed how much she would like these +things. + +"Would you desert your mother and--and Dale for things like that? Would +you?" + +In her relentless dreaming, in her sturdy ambitions, Beryl had never put +such a question to herself. She had simply never seen them in her +picture. She evaded a direct answer now. + +"They'd want me to!" + +"Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are like that. Just +unselfish. But you wouldn't give your mother up for anything. I know you +wouldn't." + +Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. In her innermost +heart--an honest heart it was--she was not quite sure; her life had been +different from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things and go +straight for them; so had Dale. If getting them meant sacrificing +sentiment--well, she'd do it. So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thought +Dale perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand because Robin had +never wanted anything big--Beryl always fell back upon this comforting +thought. + +"Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't get so interested in +your kids that you forget Mrs. Granger. She _is_ coming--they +telephoned that the road is open." + +Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of Beryl's head to show her +that, no matter how much they disagreed, they were good friends, and +went off in search of Harkness. + +The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servants +ready. With myriad lights, gleaming from candles and chandeliers, +reflecting in the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and bronze, +the air sweet with the scent of pine and flowers, the old Manor had +something of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the +old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with a +dour and suspicious eye and Harkness, dignified in his faded livery, +made the "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as he could, +with a heart heavy with doubt as to the "fitness" of Missy's whims. + +Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very small in the stately +drawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the +hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as +Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts +on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were +flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in +glee. + +True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrived +first. Robin saw masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened face +somewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot Mr. Tubbs' careful +teaching, said "I'm pleased to know you," instead, and held out her hand +to the tall, thin, mannishly dressed young woman behind Mrs. +Crosswaithe, who, though Robin did not know it, was Mrs. Crosswaithe's +daughter. + +For an hour the guests arrived in as steady a stream as their +high-powered cars could carry them through the heavy roads. The Manor +had not been opened like this for years and the "best people in the +county" took advantage of the opportunity to look for signs of failing +fortunes, to see the "girl" who had come to the Manor, and to find out +just where Madame was travelling. Thanks to Budge's heroic work no one +discovered any sign of change in the old house; their questioning only +met with disappointment, and Budge's food was of much more interest than +the young heiress who, they decided, was a pretty little thing but much +too small for her age. + +Robin shook hands until her arm ached, mumbled the wrong thing most of +the time which, however, did not seem to make any difference with +anyone, and kept one eye longingly on the window, and one ear listening +for the shouts outside which were growing louder and louder. She seized +an opportunity to go to the window and watch, so that when the great +Mrs. Granger arrived Mr. Tubbs had to, a little sharply, recall her to +her duty. + +"Isn't she--awful?" whispered Robin to Beryl, as Mrs. Granger, after +condescendingly patting Robin's hand, swept on. + +"She thinks _she's_ so grand, but she ought to see the Queen!" Which +observation would have enraged Mrs. Granger, had she heard it, for she +had felt particular satisfaction in her dress and hat, sent on, only the +day before, from the most expensive shop in New York. + +"Miss Alicia didn't come--she's in California. Say, Robin, there's a +Granger boy, 'bout eighteen. Maybe that's why my lady Granger's so sweet +to you." + +"Silly!" Robin flung at Beryl in retort. "Oh, dear, can't I go out to my +own guests now?" + +Robin and Williams had planned that the children should be admitted to +the conservatory through a side door, leaving their outer garments in a +vestibule. So, when everything was in readiness for them, Harkness gave +the sign, and Williams herded his noisy troupe to the house. + +Many of the older guests had been present at that memorable birthday +party on young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and they recalled now, +over their salad plates, the brilliancy of that affair and touched upon +all that had happened since in the way of change. Mrs. Granger displayed +much emotion. + +"_That_ made a picture I will never forget!" and she nodded toward the +glass doors, curtained in soft silk, which led from the dining room to +the conservatory and which Harkness had carefully closed. "I wonder if I +might just peep in? Ah, the memories. My dear Alicia and that handsome +boy--" she touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes. + +Several who had overheard her followed Mrs. Granger to the closed doors +and stood behind her as she opened them. And their eyes beheld a sight +so different from that birthday party that they stepped back in +amazement, Mrs. Granger lifting her lorgnette in trembling fingers. + +Youngsters of every size and of every degree of greed crowded around the +long table, the "Christmasy" decoration of which had already been pulled +to pieces by eager reaching hands. Faces, still red from the crisp air +and streaked where dirty coat sleeves had rubbed them, beamed across the +heaping plates, busy fingers crammed away the goodies. One small boy +half-lay across the table; another stood in his chair, his frayed woolen +cap set rakishly back and over one ear. On each excited countenance a +shadow of suspicion mingled with the joy, a fear that the same magic +which had brought it might snatch all this strange and lovely fun away. +Harkness watched at one end of the table, Williams at another. And in +their midst sat Robin. + +"Well, I never!" murmured Mrs. Granger. Her exclamation was drowned, +however, in the babble of youthful sound let loose upon the "best people +of the County" by the opening of the door. "Miss Gordon is going in for +the pretty charity thing, is she?" + +All might have gone well even then--for Harkness had a stern eye on +everyone of Robin's small guests--had not little Susy seen her beloved +"big girl" slip through the group at the big glass doors. Susy was the +youngest of the children there; she did not go to school regularly +enough to feel at home with the others, she had refused to slide, and, +at the table had not really begun to enjoy herself until Robin had sat +down next to her, put her arm around her and coaxed her to eat the food +on the plate before her. The food had turned out to be very good and +Susy had crammed it down with her fingers, regardless of fork or spoon. +Now her "big girl" had slipped away, she was alone, that man at the end +was staring at her, panic seized her, a mad longing to escape, +anywhere--preferably back to the shelter of the "big girl's" friendly +arm. She slid down from her seat, her eyes wildly sweeping the room; +Harkness, like an ogre, guarded one end of the table, Williams' bulk +stood between her and the outer door; there was only the one way, +through the glass doors. Head down, she ran swiftly the length of the +conservatory and bolted into the little group of people watching from +the dining room door. Someone big blocked her way. With frightened hands +she pushed at her. + +"Want Granny! _Want Granny!_ Get 'way! Uh-h-h!" + +"The dreadful little thing!" someone said. + +Robin, hearing the shrill cry, rushed to the rescue, and, kneeling, +gathered poor weeping Susy into a close embrace. Over the child's +tousled head she smiled nervously at her staring guests. + +"Poor little thing, she's shy!" Then, feeling Susy quivering in her +clasp, she whispered something magical in her ears. It was only: "Robin +will keep tight hold of your hand, Susy-girl, and you needn't be a bit +frightened and by and by, if you're quiet, we'll fill a bag of goodies +for your brother and Granny." But it soothed Susy at once, and, clinging +to Robin's hand, she stared at the guests from the shelter of Robin's +skirts. + +There was a little stir among the "best people of the County"--a renewal +of the chatter, high-pitched, pleasant nothings, and side remarks, in +careful undertones. + +"Certainly, not a bit like a Forsyth." + +"I rather think Madame doesn't know what is going on here." + +"Fancy entertaining these little persons and Mrs. Granger with the same +spoon, so to speak." + +And, in a corner, Mrs. Granger was raging over the damaging imprint of +two sticky hands on the delicate fabric of her costly gown. For her's +had been the bulk that had stood between Susy and her "big girl," and +Susy had been eating chocolate marshmallow cake with both hands! + +Mrs. Granger had come to Gray Manor with the intention of coaxing Miss +Gordon to spend Christmas at Wyckham, the Granger home. But, as she made +ineffectual dabs at the greasy spots on her skirt with her silly little +handkerchief, she put such a thought quite away from her mind. + +"Brat!" she cried under her breath, angrily, and from the way she glared +at Robin and Susy no one could have told which of the two she meant. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR + + +Christmas without Jimmie was, for Robin, a thing not to think about. And +from Beryl, inasmuch as that young lady affected a stoical indifference +to the holiday, she could get little sympathy. Beryl had shocked her +with the heresy: "Christmas is just for rich people, anyway." + +"It is not. Oh, it isn't," Robin had cried in remonstrance. But she +could not tell of her and Jimmie's happy Christ-days without giving way +to the tears which, at the thought, scalded the backs of her eyes. It +had not been alone the holly and pine of the shop windows, or the simple +gifts Jimmie's loyal and more fortunate friends brought, or the usual +merry feast that had made them happy; it had been a deep and beautiful +understanding of the Infinite Love that had given the Christ-child to +the world, that Love which surpassed even Jimmie's love for her or hers +for Jimmie, and that was hers and everyone elses. She had felt it first +when, a very little girl, she had gone, once, with Jimmie into the +purple shadows of a great church, where the air was sweet with incense +and vibrating with the muted notes of an organ. She had stood with +Jimmie before a little cradle that had seemed beautiful with gold and +precious colors but, when she looked again, was a humble thing of wood +and straw, and what she had thought so bright was the radiance of +candles and the reflection from the many-colored windows. Then she had +looked at the cradle more closely and had found that it held a beautiful +wax babe. When Jimmie tugged at her hand she had reluctantly turned +away. At the same time a shabby old woman and a little boy, who had been +kneeling nearby, arose, and the old woman and the little boy had smiled +at her--a _different_ smile and she had smiled back. On the way home +Jimmie had explained to her that the Gift of the Christ-child was the +great universal gift and belonged to everyone, the world over. She knew, +then, why the shabby old woman had smiled--it was over the Gift they +shared. + +"Christmas is for _everybody_," she finished. + +"Well, all it means to me now that I'm big," pursued Beryl, "is stores +full of lovely things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money +to buy them. And talking about how much everything is. I heard a woman +once saying she had to spend five dollars on her aunt because her aunt +always spent five dollars on her. That's why I say Christmas is for the +rich--it's a sort of general exchange and take it back if you don't like +it or have half a dozen like 'em, or put it away and send it to some one +next Christmas. Miss Lewis, at the Settlement where mother worked, gave +a book to a lady one Christmas and got it back the next, and the leaves +weren't even cut." + +Robin laughed in spite of her disapproval of Beryl's heresy. "There +_are_ different kinds of Christmases, Beryl, and I'll show you," she +protested, then and there vowing to make the Christmas at the Manor a +merry one, in spite of odds. + +"Well, the nicest thing _I_ know that's going to happen is that +Rub-a-dub-dub is going home," retorted Beryl. + +"That _is_ nice, but there'll be even nicer things. Let's invite your +mother and Dale for dinner and have a little tree and we'll make all +sorts of foolish things to put on it." + +To Beryl this did not sound at all exciting but Robin loved the thought +of sitting with Mrs. Lynch and Dale and Beryl, like one happy family, +around the long table. She'd ask Harkness to cut pine boughs and a nice +smelly tree, which she and Beryl would adorn with gifts that had no more +value than a good laugh. + +And she would coax Harkness to get Williams and his nice wife to help +open and clean the House of Laughter. She'd like to have it a Christmas +gift from her to the Mill children. + +She found Harkness ready for her wildest suggestion. He had confided to +Williams and Mrs. Budge that he felt sorry for little Missy alone in the +big house on Christmas. + +"A lot of pine and holly, Missy, and the old place won't look the same. +A tree--of course there'll be a tree! Whoever heard of Christmas +without a tree. Many's the one I've cut with the young master; he'd have +no one but Harkness do it, for he said I always found the best trees." + +But the old man's head began to whirl a little when Robin explained +about the House of Laughter and the dinner that must be "different." She +had to tell him again and again, until her tone grew pleading. + +"I'll help you, Missy, only I'm a little slow just understanding. It'll +come, though, it'll come. Williams will give a hand and his wife maybe, +and I'll tell Mrs. Budge about the Christmas cakes and things. It'll be +as merry a Christmas as old Harkness can make it, Missy." + +"Oh, Mr. Harkness, you're a dear," Robin cried, with a look that made +the old man's heart almost burst with affection. + +"But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than she has to know," he +thought, as he went off to do Robin's bidding. + +With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, who had married the +telegraph operator at the little station, pressed into the work, the +empty cottage at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Windows +were opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in the sweet cold air; +under the magic of strong soap and good muscle the old wood-work shone +with cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy. Harkness and +Williams hauled down a load of wood and piled it high by the back door; +Mrs. Lynch transformed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, eager +thing. + +Williams, who was very clever and would have been a carpenter if he +hadn't been a chauffeur, built tables out of rough boards and, in the +living room, put up shelves for books and the window seat Robin wanted. + +Robin and Beryl flew about in everyone's way, eager to help and generous +with advice. + +"There, I'd say things were pretty nice," exclaimed Williams, at the end +of the sixth day of work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction the +chair he had made out of "odds and ends." + +"But it doesn't look like what we want--yet!" Robin glanced about +dolefully. "It needs such a lot to make it homey. Where'll we ever get +it all?" + +"Now, Miss Robin, Rome wasn't built in a day, as I ever heard of," +protested Harkness, a smudge over his nose and two long nails between +his teeth. "I guess there's truck enough in the attic up there at the +Manor to fill this house and a dozen like it." + +"Oh, Mr. Harkness, may we use it? Or--just borrow it until my aunt +returns? Can we?" + +Harkness exchanged glances with Williams. Harkness knew that it had long +been Mrs. Budge's custom to make a two day trip to New York during the +week preceding Christmas. They could take advantage of her absence. + +"Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, to do." And no one thought +of smiling at his "we" for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or she +had a share in Robin's House of Laughter. + +But even stripping the Manor attic of its "truck" did not satisfy Robin +and the day before Christmas found her House of Laughter lacking in the +things she wanted most. + +"It ought to have jolly pictures and ever so many books and pillows and +nice, frilly curtains," she mourned, wondering how much they would cost +and how she could ever get them. + +On Christmas morning, Harkness dragged to Robin's door a box of gifts +from her guardian. Most of them Miss Effie had selected, as poor +Cornelius Allendyce was still confined to his room, and that +good-hearted woman had, with a burst of real Christmas spirit, simply +duplicated each gift, for, though she wasn't at all sure, yet, that this +"companion" of Robin's choosing was the refined sort Robin ought to +have, nevertheless she was a girl like Robin and Christmas was +Christmas. Beryl appreciated the thoughtfulness more than she could +express and when she found a little book entitled "Old Violins" and +_only one_, she hugged it to her with a rush of happy feeling. + +Later in the morning Mrs. Granger's chauffeur arrived with a great box +of bon-bons in queer shapes and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had ever +seen anything quite so extravagantly contrived. + +"She paid a fortune for _that_," declared Beryl, appraisingly. "She must +have forgiven Susy for spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking of +her son again. Let me read the card. 'Hoping you will coax that nice Mr. +Tubbs to bring you to us before my youngsters go back to school--' +Didn't I tell you, Robin?" + +"I won't go," Robin answered briefly, pushing box and card away with a +gesture that disposed of Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim the +tree." + +Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the straightest, +princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. Its fragrance penetrated and +filled the old house. The girls went about sniffing joyously, carrying +in their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of bright paper. +Harkness, oddly dishevelled and excited, balanced on a stepladder and +fastened the gay ornaments where Robin directed. + +Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christmas tree without the +usual tinsel and glittering baubles. But after Robin and Harkness had +worked for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very Christmasy and +"different." + +"You're awfully clever, Robin," she declared, in a tone frankly +grudging. "You make little things count for so much--like mother." + +"I think _that's_ a compliment. And speaking of your mother, Beryl +Lynch, we have just time to wash our hands and faces and change our +dresses before she comes. Oh, hasn't this day simply flown? And _hasn't_ +it been nice, after all? Isn't Harkness darling--look at him." For +Harkness, his head on one side, a sprig of holly over one ear where +Robin had put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which Robin had +made of bright tissue paper and which he had carefully hung by the +heels. + +"That kite looks as real as can be, Missy." + +Giggling, the girls rushed away to make ready for what Robin declared +(though she had been much hurt by Dale's refusing to come) the nicest +part of Christmas. + +Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with the last touches of the +Christmas feast. + +"That's the prettiest cake I ever saw if I do say so," she cried, +patting the round cherry which adorned the centre of the gaily frosted +cake. Then, lest she grow cheerful, she drew a long sigh from the depths +of her bosom. "But, cake or no cake, I never thought I'd live to feed +Mill persons, coming to our table like the best people. Things plain +common. It ain't like the old days--it ain't." + +"The old days are old days, Hannah Budge," rebuked Harkness, who had +come into the kitchen. "Mebbe our little lydy's ways aren't our ways but +it isn't so bad hearing the young voices and you'll admit, Mrs. Budge, +that that's a fine cake and there'd be no cake if Missy wasn't here, +now, won't you?" + +"I haven't time for your philosophizing, Timothy Harkness. With things +at sixes and sevens I have enough to do!" But Mrs. Budge's tone had +softened. She _had_ not made a Christmas cake (at sixteen Hannah Budge +had taken the prize at the County Agricultural Exhibit for the finest +decorated cake, and she had never forgotten it) since Master Christopher +the Third had left them. And she _had_ enjoyed hearing young voices and +eager steps in the old house and had caught herself that very morning, +as she helped Chloe stuff the turkey, singing: + +"Oh, com-m-me let 'tus a-dor-r-re Him." + +Chloe's last delectable dish for the dinner eaten, Harkness drew back +the folding doors to reveal the Christmas tree in the conservatory. And +Robin, waiting for Mrs. Lynch's "oh" of admiration, gave vent herself to +a delighted cry of surprise for, at the foot of the tree, so still as to +seem a graven image, sat little Susy, cross-legged, staring in wrapt +contentment at the bright ornaments. + +"Susy, you _darling_, where in the world did you drop from?" Robin +rushed to her and knelt at her side. + +Without moving her eyes so much as a fraction of an inch, Susy indicated +the side door of the conservatory as her means of entrance. In one hand +she clutched a soiled ragged picture book, on its uppermost page the +colorful illustration of "The Night before Christmas." Susy had not +forgotten the magic of that side door which had opened for her upon a +feast beyond her wildest imaginings; if there were a place on earth +where that Christmas tree of her picture could come really true it must +be at the "big girl's." Alone she had bravely climbed the hill to the +Manor to find out. + +Not a word could Robin's questioning drag from her. + +"You shall stay here as long as you want," Robin finally declared, +popping a round bon-bon between the child's trembling lips. "We needed a +little girl to sit at the foot of that tree, didn't we?" + +At Robin's command, Harkness played the role of Santa. The girls had +fashioned all sorts of nonsensical gifts out of paper and cardboard and +paste; no one was forgotten. Mrs. Lynch declared herself "as rich as +rich" with bracelets and a necklace made of red berries. Mrs. Budge, +forgetting, when Robin held a sprig of mistletoe over her head and +daringly kissed her wrinkled cheek, that "things was going to sixes and +sevens," laughed until her sides ached at Harkness in his silly clown's +cap. Robin and Beryl, with much solemnity, exchanged purchases each had +secretly made at the village store and Robin could not resist adding: +"Dare you to send it to me next Christmas." + +Beryl had to admit, deep in her heart, that Robin had managed a +Christmas full of joy that had nothing to do with stores full of lovely +things and crowded with people lucky enough to have money to buy them. +Never having thought much about the Christmas spirit, she had no name +with which to explain Mrs. Budge's awkwardly kind manner--even to her, +or her mother's unusual animation, or why the picture of little Susy, +still rooted to the tree, clasping a great paper doll in her arms, made +her glad all over. But after a little she disappeared, and presently, +from the library, came the strains of her violin, low, pulsing with a +deep emotion, now a laugh, now a sob, climbing higher and higher until +they sang like the far-off, quivery note of a bird, flying into the +heavens. + +A deep hush fell over the little group of merrymakers. Harkness coughed +into his hand. Mrs. Budge fussed around the spacious belt of a dress for +a handkerchief and, finding none, surreptitiously lifted a corner of her +apron. Mrs. Lynch caught her throat with a convulsive movement as though +something hurt it. Robin, watching her, slipped her hand into the +mother's and squeezed it. + +"Don't go," she whispered when the music suddenly ceased. "Beryl's +funny. She likes to be alone when she plays." + +"I never heard her play--like _that_!" + +"Oh, Beryl's wonderful!" Robin smiled happily in her faith. "She makes +that all up, too, 'cause she hasn't any music. She's going to be the +greatest violinist in the world. Hush!" + +Beryl had begun a lilting refrain, as though a mother laughed as she +sang a lullaby. It had in it a familiar strain which carried little Mrs. +Moira back to Beryl's baby days. Then the lullaby swung into the deeper +tones of a Christmas anthem and again into a tempestuous outburst of +melody, as though Beryl had let loose all at once the riotous feelings +that surged within her. + +Just as the last note died away a bell pealed through the house. Because +it was still Christmas, really being only nine o'clock, everyone looked +for a surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when Harkness placed an +impressive envelope in Robin's hands and said that a stranger had +brought it to the door. + +"He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but before I could as much +as say 'Good evening' he was off in the dark." + +Robin studied the address, which was printed. It gave no clue +whatsoever. Nor was there anything else on the envelope. She broke the +sealed flap, with an excited giggle. Five crisp bank-notes fell out. + +"For goodness' sake," cried Beryl, staring. "Who ever sent them?" + + "TO MISS GORDON FORSYTH. Please use this money for your House of + Laughter. I am deeply interested in your experiment. Frankly, I do + not believe it will work; but if it does my little contribution + will be well spent; and if it doesn't, my own conviction will be + justified. + + YOUR FRIEND NEAR THE RUSHING WATER." + +Beryl squealed with delight. "How _larky_ to have her remember every +solitary thing you told her, Robin--even what we called her house. What +are you going to do with it all? I wish _I_ could get money like that." + +Robin stood staring at the letter--not at all jubilant over the +unexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't said she didn't believe the +experiment would work. It _isn't_ an experiment and it _will_ work. I'm +not _trying_ anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, who hastily +assured her with a "No, dearie." Then Robin gathered up the bank-notes. + +"Though I did wish we had more nice things for the house and now we can +get them. But isn't this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen a one +and two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. "I never had so much in my +life." + +At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas celebration apparently +abandoned in the excitement of the strange letter, she departed +kitchenward. + +Harkness volunteered to escort Susy and Mrs. Lynch back to the village. +In a twinkling the house had quieted so that the girls' footsteps, as +they climbed the stairs, resounded strangely. + +Robin leaned for a moment against the banister and looked back into the +shadows of the great, dimly-lit hall. + +"Listen a moment, Beryl! Can't you hear tiny echoes of voices and +laughter? Don't you s'pose even the things we think and feel get into +the air, too--and linger?" + +Beryl tugged at her arm. "Oh, come on, Robin. You make me creepy. You'll +be seeing ghosts in a moment. I want to have a good look at that letter. +_Wasn't_ it a surprise, though?" + +But after a close study of it, Beryl threw the letter down in +disappointment. "Not so much as a tiny crown on it! I'll bet she had +someone write it for her, too. It looks all big and scrawly--like a man. +Anyway, Robin, you ought to keep one of the bills as a souvenir." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER + + +The day after Christmas, and for many days thereafter, Robin counted +over the five precious bank-notes. She knew with her eyes shut each line +and shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept them in a little +heart-shaped box that had been a favor at a studio party she had gone to +with Jimmie a few years ago. + +Their magic opened possibilities for her House of Laughter; +curtains--cushions--books--pictures--games, why, she could have all the +things she had wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And behind +her eager planning was a thought she kept shut tight away in her heart. +If there were any money left--by careful buying--the Queen would surely +want her to give it to Dale to perfect his model. For had not Adam Kraus +and Dale both said that the little invention would make everything at +the Mills better? She would present her gift to him at the "opening" of +the House of Laughter. Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there. +Under cover of the general merriment she would find an opportunity. She +went over and over, until she could say them backward, the few words +with which she would make him accept the money. + +Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's mind, declared she +fussed an awful lot over samples and lists for anyone who had so much +money to spend and Mrs. Lynch encouraged her economy because, she said, +"'Twas likely as not the roof'd leak in the Spring and shingles cost a +lot, they did." When Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonne +too expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese cloth they bought at +the village store a gay yellow. And she wisely counselled Robin to let +her write to Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the Settlement +House where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitable +pictures and the right books with which to begin. "_She'll_ know, +dearie." + +While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch took +pains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the Mill +Village by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley and +telling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word," she +explained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people were +going to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute little +cards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me." + +"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin asked +eagerly. + +Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not been +able to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poor +Harkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures Miss +Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves. + +Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of the +living room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and +laughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, because +he looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang over +the shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest in +the festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robin +let her help in planning everything to the smallest detail. + +The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with their +sleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and +depart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the evening +the young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather in +the living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at the +books and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would be +sandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a little +speech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to do +what they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behind +the shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, +shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," but Beryl had insisted +that she really must because she was a "Forsyth." + +Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting them +to come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night. + +And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars left +in the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from her +ridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune. + +Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectant +sponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve +o'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went to +Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and better +living conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the +first time these complaints and requests had been laid before the +superintendent--but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girls +who hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hope +kindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talk +so convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris +realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more money +almost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. Adam +Kraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero--for the moment. As he +came, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quick +shout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw his +failure written on his angry face. They pressed about him, eager for +details, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he +had not been able to make Norris listen. + +"I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills more +than a month. + +A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking strident +laugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the louder +curses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, +talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one of +these groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he +shake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat his +mother's good Saturday meal--overcooked for standing. + +"Has Adam been to Norris again?" asked big Danny. + +Dale nodded. It was not necessary for either his father or mother to ask +the outcome of the call. "Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've been +wondering if Adam is right--about the way to get this." + +"He ought to know more'n you do," flared big Danny, who loved something +upon which to vent his own rancor. + +"I suppose." Dale admitted, eating with quick, absent-minded gulps. "I'd +like to be the head of these Mills--I'd see both sides and make the +other fellow see, too." + +"Sure, it's wonderful you'd be," murmured Mrs. Lynch, caressingly. + +"Well, I'm about as far from it as I am from being President of the +United States. Adam has a better chance--if he ever gets his way. +_There's_ a leader." + +Mrs. Lynch cut a generous portion of apple pie in a silence that said +plainly she did not agree with her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped his +lips, pushed back the plate. + +"The Rileys have got to move up the river." + +"Dale, you don't say so?" Mrs. Lynch was all concern now. The Rileys +were neighbors. Tim Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at the +Mills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped Mrs. Riley care for +her husband and had grown very fond of the plucky little woman. "Why, +it's his death he'll get with the dampness up there, and those blessed +little colleens." + +"Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work half-time now and he can't +afford one of these houses." + +"Oh, dear, oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Lynch. "Don't tell Robin," she begged. +"It's so happy the child is with her House of Laughter, as she calls it +and--Dale, she's a different Forsyth." + +"She's just a kid," he answered, in a tone that implied Robin could have +little weight against the impregnable House of Forsyth. + +But a few hours later, when, with the coming of night into the valley, +the last tired youngster departed from the House of Laughter, balloon on +high, the "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its original +perfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as her spirits. + +"_Wasn't_ it a success? Didn't the children have a wonderful time?" she +begged to know, with all the happy concern of a middle-aged hostess. +"Are you dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's the real +test." She stopped suddenly and leaned on her broom, her face very +serious. "I do hope the big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn't +said she didn't believe our--experiment would work. Why _won't_ it work? +Don't grown-ups like to be happy just as much as children--when they get +a chance?" + +Mrs. Lynch had no answer for Robin's wondering. "Queens don't know about +things in this country," Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books are +just about ruined. I thought Tommy Black would eat up this Arabian +Nights." + +"That shows how much they want them! I don't care if they _do_ eat +them." Robin was too happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't her +beautiful plan in the process of coming true? And didn't she have her +money in her pocket all ready for Dale's grasp? + +She had brought flowers from the Manor which she arranged on the tables +and the mantel under her beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellow +glow of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and the gleams of +red from the shiny stove, which had to do for the fireplace Robin had +wanted, and the brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served to +soften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpeting and the shabby +furnishings brought from the Manor attic. + +"I do think everything's lovely and it's just because you've all been so +kind about helping," Robin declared, viewing the room with pride. "I +hope ever so many people'll come and that they'll believe it's theirs. +But, oh, Beryl, don't you think we could make them know without my +saying a speech?" And Robin shivered with nervousness. + +"Of course not," Beryl answered with cruel promptness. "Anyway, as long +as you thought about all this you ought to get the credit." Beryl had no +patience with Robin's "blushing-unseen" nature. "It'll be easy, anyway. +You just ought to know how I felt the day Mr. Henri took me to play for +Martini. Why, my knees turned to putty. But then, _that_ was different. +Listen, there comes some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until the +sandwiches are made." + +Dale opened the door and Adam Kraus followed him in. Then, while Robin, +two bright spots of color burning in her cheeks, was showing them the +new books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and miserable in their +Sunday best, and she shyly greeted them. When another knock sounded Mrs. +Lynch took the women in charge so that Robin might welcome the +newcomers. They were four of the Mill girls and they crowded into the +room, staring curiously about them and at Robin, whose greeting they +answered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they rushed to him with noisy +banter and laughter that had a shrill edge. + +Robin, left alone and without the courage to join either group, watched +the girls as they gathered about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panic +seized her. She fought against it, she told herself that everything was +going all right and that in a few moments more people would come, and +these girls, who looked at her so rudely from the corners of their eyes, +would forget about her and have a good time. From the kitchen, where +Harkness was presiding, came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryl +and Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on plates as fast as +their quick fingers could make them. Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemed +to be gossiping contentedly at one end of the room but Robin wondered +why they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch now and then glanced +anxiously in her direction; once she heard something about "the Rileys" +and an imploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus and the four girls +were urging Dale to do something and Robin saw a big girl with bold +black eyes lay a persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook off +almost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she had the courage to +break into the circle and drag Dale away from her, instead of standing +in such a silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued to the +roof of her mouth. + +And, oh, why _didn't_ more people come? What was the matter? + +After what seemed to Robin an interminable time, though in fact it was +only a few minutes, Adam Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the four +girls. "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth," he said in his easy, soft +voice. "There's an important meeting in the village. You've fixed a nice +little doll house here." + +The girl with the black eyes, standing just back of Adam Kraus' +shoulder, laughed--a scornful laugh. + +"Too bad the Rileys can't move here!" + +The Rileys again! Robin flushed at the girl's laugh and hateful eyes, +tried to answer Adam Kraus and to beg them all to wait until Harkness +brought in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her feet +rooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam Kraus and the girls start +for the little hall and hastily moved in that direction themselves. + +"Oh, _don't_ go!" Robin managed to cry, then, moving after them, "Mrs. +Lynch, make them stay. Why, I wanted this to be a _party_, to--to--This +is your House of Laughter! I--" She struggled desperately to recall the +words of the "speech" Beryl had declared perfect and to keep from +breaking down into tears before these hard, staring eyes. + +The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from behind the others, casting +a quick look at Adam Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess you +named this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It _is_ to laugh! But there +ain't many of us that know all poor little Mamie Riley's stood, and +cares about her the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels like +laughing tonight!" She tossed her head as though proud of her courage, +then singled out Dale for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, that +you're too good to come with us! Ma, (turning to a meek-faced woman), +leave the door unlocked. The meeting'll be a long one." + +And just as Mrs. Williams patted down the last sandwich, Mrs. Lynch, +with a shaking hand, closed the door and, turning, faced Dale and Robin. + +"Well, of all the ungrateful creatures!" cried Beryl, who had taken in +the little scene from the kitchen door. + +"Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear," begged Mrs. Lynch, frightened +at Robin's stricken face. + +Robin turned her glance around the deserted room as though she simply +could not believe her eyes. It must surely be an awful dream from which +she would awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as though to +keep back her own tears of disappointment. "It's a grand time the +kiddies had this day, bless the little hearts of them, and a loving you +like you were some bit of a fairy--the impudence of them--" + +"Who are the Rileys?" demanded Robin, sternly--for she _had_ to know; +the Rileys had spoiled her beautiful plans. + +"Now don't you be a-bothering your bright head with the Rileys or anyone +else--" + +Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still lingered the dark flush +that had crept up over it at the black-eyed girl's taunt. + +"I don't know why Miss Forsyth _shouldn't_ know the reason the Mill +people didn't come tonight. There's a big protest meeting about the +Rileys--it wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told you. Tim +Riley's been laid up for six months and he's just back on half-time and +can't ever do any better, I guess--and he's been ordered out of his +house which means--up the river--" + +"Up--where Granny Castle lives?" broke in Robin, in a queer voice. + +"Yes. And it's hard on Tim's wife and her children--they're just little +things. And he can't go anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife went +herself to Norris and begged for a little time until she heard from an +uncle up in Canada or found some way of earning extra money herself, and +Norris wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all pretty sore and +they called this meeting--" + +"That's where that girl wanted you to go?" + +"Yes. And that's why Adam Kraus had to hurry off." + +Robin suddenly clutched at her pocket, her face flaming. "Dale, will you +hurry--down to that meeting--and take them--this?" She held out a thick +roll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. I had saved it +for something else, but, oh, those babies just _can't_ go to that +dreadful place--" + +Dale shook his head and put his hands behind him. + +"That wouldn't go at that meeting, Miss Forsyth. The men would see red. +It isn't charity they want--it's justice. They're giving good honest +labor to Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing to pay to +live decently--they just want the chance. And to work decently, too. If +you knew the Rileys you'd know what a proud sort they are--they wouldn't +take your money any more than I would--or mother, here. If your aunt +were home or--if you'd go to Norris--" He considered a moment, frowning. +"The men and girls are so roused up that it'll be only a step to +organizing and all that sort of thing and these Mills have been pretty +free from labor trouble--if only Norris could be made to understand +that. But he's so set and out-of-date--" Dale laughed suddenly, a short, +bitter laugh, "I suppose I'm extra sore because he refused to even look +at my model." + +"You all needn't take your spite out on Robin," broke in Beryl, +vehemently. + +"Well--Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all that's happened today, the +Forsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blame +them too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to be +patronized and they look upon--all this--as a sort of--oh, charity." + +Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laid +his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his +mother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if you +begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them--yet." + +"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw he +offered. + +"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to--when they get +the idea." + +"But I wanted it to be--my gift." + +"The opportunity for them to have it _will_ be your gift." + +Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a rift in all the clouds. + +"Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And I forgetting it! Let them +pay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring +what's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These folks are +good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feel +and a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit +of fun. It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't grieve your +blessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, there'll be laughter enough in +this house by and by. Mind you what I said once about beginnings had to +come first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. Lynch and amazingly +comforting to Robin. + +She slipped the roll of bank-notes back into the pocket of her dress; +she could not even offer them to Dale, now. "You're dear and patient and +I guess I've been stupid and expected too much. But I shan't make any +more mistakes and I'm going to make the most of my 'beginning'." + +"And now, Dale boy, why not have a bit of Mr. Harkness' good coffee?" + +But, though Beryl and Robin pressed, Dale refused and slipped away and +Robin had a moment's picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl when +she saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remembering the plight of the +Rileys' she was ashamed of herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sitting +around the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while Harkness and +Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped coffee. The fire sputtered and +gleamed cheerfully, and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliant +splash of color in the soft glow of the room. + +"Who was that big girl with the black eyes?" Robin found the courage to +ask Beryl when the whole dreadful evening was over and they were back at +the Manor. + +"Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle were chums and worked +together. Dale says she's awfully clever but _I_ think she's horrid. The +way she spoke to him tonight." + +Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she hated to think that her Prince +could find this Sophie Mack clever. + +Too tired from the disappointing evening to want to talk, and too wide +awake to dream of going to sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deep +breathing told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. Then she +crept from bed and crouched, a mite of a thing, at the window sill and +stared out into the brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowy +hills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and buildings of the Mills. +Robin recalled that day she had first likened them to a Giant. That day +seemed--so much had happened since and she had grown so much +inside--very long ago and she a silly girl thinking stories about +everything. Her guardian, to amuse her, had talked about finding a Jack +to climb the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled scornfully at +the fancy--so futile in the face of the tremendous misery--and +happiness--that Giant had the power to make! + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LUCKLESS STOCKING + + +Two hours after Robin's lonely vigil at the window ended, fire destroyed +the empty cottage "up the river" into which the Rileys had been ordered +to move. + +"I wish it had burned in the daytime when we could have watched it," +Beryl had declared, almost resentfully. But Robin's concern had been for +old Granny Castle and little Susy. + +Harkness, who had brought them the news, reassured her. "Too bad they +couldn't all a' burned but no such luck--only th' one. It's said that +there are some as _knows_ how a' empty house without so much as a crumb +to draw a rat could a' gone up like that did. And Williams says as how +there was men stood around and wouldn't lift a hand to help put out the +blaze though they took care it didn't spread." + +"What do you mean, Mr. Harkness?" broke in Robin. + +"Why, just this, Missy, Williams says that there's a lot of bad feeling +stirrin' and bad feelings lead to hasty things like revenge." + +"You mean some one of the Mill people set it on fire?" asked Beryl +slowly, with wide eyes. + +"And who else'd have bad feelings?" + +Robin recalled, with alarm, what Dale had said at the House of +Laughter. Could Dale have done this thing--or helped? Or stood around +and watched it burn? Oh, no, no--not Dale. + +Harkness, seeing her concern, dexterously broke a soft-boiled egg into a +silver egg-cup and said in a carefully casual voice, intended to put the +fire quite out of their minds: "Well, the constable'll find the man what +did it, so don't you worry your head, Missy." + +Robin, her heart heavy with all she wanted to do and couldn't find a way +to do, swallowed a scream at his "Don't you worry your head." Why _did_ +everyone say that to her--just because she was little on the outside? If +_she_ didn't worry her head--who was there to worry? + +It was with a heavy spirit she dressed herself--girded herself, she +called it--for her call upon Mr. Norris at the Mills. The long hours of +Sunday, through which she had to wait, had filled her with misgiving. +Now she looked so absurdly small in the mirror, her tousled hair so +childish, no matter how much she tried to tuck it out of sight under the +little dark blue toque, why would anyone, especially a manager of a +Mill, listen to her? + +Beryl, stirred to sympathy by Robin's daring to face the lion in his +den, told her for the hundredth time just how she had suffered before +that momentous visit to Martini, the orchestra leader, in New York. + +"Why, my hands were clammy and my teeth rattled and everything whirled +in front of me and my knees just knocked together, but, say, I gulped +and I said terribly hard to myself, 'You want this thing and you can't +get it if you're all soft inside and a coward', and, Robin, in a +twinkling, something began to grow inside of me and get big and big +until I had courage to do anything! Of course it was different with me +but you'll probably feel just the way I did, all strong inside, when you +face him and get stirred up. Only--I hate to tell you, but I saw you put +your stocking on wrong side out and then change it and _that's_ bad +luck!" + +Robin looked down at the luckless stocking. It looked too absurdly a +trifle to have weight with anything as important as righting the wrongs +of the Rileys. + +Afterward, however, Robin vowed she'd always take great care in her +dressing! + +Frank Norris had been superintendent of the Forsyth Mills for +twenty-five years. Since the death of old Christopher Forsyth he had run +them pretty much as he pleased, for, inasmuch as his accounting was +accurate to the smallest fraction and his profits unfailingly +forthcoming, neither Madame Forsyth nor her financial or legal advisers, +saw fit to interfere with him. For that reason the old man felt +annoyance as well as surprise when Robin broke into the usual routine of +his Monday morning, already disturbed by the mystery of Saturday night's +fire. + +He had duly paid his respects to the little Forsyth heir with a Sunday +afternoon call and had afterward reported to Mrs. Norris that she "was a +little thing, all red hair and eyes." But now, as she stood at one end +of his desk, something in the resolute set of her chin arrested and held +his attention; there _was_ something more--he could not at the moment +say what--to the "little thing" than eyes and red hair. + +Robin swallowed (as Beryl had instructed) and plunged straight into her +errand. Wouldn't he please let the Rileys stay in their cottage for a +little while--until something could be done? + +At the mention of the Rileys the smile he had mustered vanished, and his +bushy eyebrows drew sharply down over his narrow eyes from which angry +little gleams flashed. + +"Who asked you to come to me, Miss Forsyth?" + +Robin's heart went down into her boots. "No one," she answered in a +faint voice. Then, quite suddenly, something in the hard, angry face +opposite her fired that spark within her that Beryl had assured her she +would feel. She felt the "big thing" grow and grow until she stood +straight, quite unafraid, and could go on calmly. "Only I don't +think--and I don't believe my aunt would think--it is quite fair to put +them out of their house when they've had so much trouble. Hasn't Mr. +Riley always been a very good workman? There are lots of things here I +don't think quite right, and when my aunt comes back I'm going to ask +her to change--" + +"May I interrupt you, Miss Forsyth, to inquire upon what experience you +base your knowledge? For I assume, of course, you would not want to +radically change things here without knowing what you were offering in +their place. I was under the impression that you were quite a youngster +and had lived with your father in a somewhat Bohemian fashion--" + +A deep rose stained Robin's face. She caught the hint of a slur. + +"My father taught me what is honest and fair and kind and cruel and--" +She had to stop to control the trembling in her voice. The man took +advantage of it by breaking in, his voice measured and conciliatory. He +suddenly realized the ridiculousness--and the danger--in quarreling with +even a fifteen-year-old Forsyth. + +"My dear child, I can readily understand in what light certain +conditions appear to one of your tender years. When you are older you +will understand that an industry such as I am in charge of here, and +conducting, I believe, quite satisfactorily for the Forsyths, has to be +run by the head and not the heart. I dislike immensely having to do such +things as forcing the Rileys to move but you must see it is my duty. If +I make an exception in their case--there will be hundreds like them. As +it happens--" he let a rasp of anger break into his voice--"the cottage +into which they were to move was burned down Saturday night. However +that will only delay the enforcing of my order and when the man or men +who set fire to it are caught they will be dealt with--severely. Your +Rileys will enjoy a few days of grace until we can put another into +shape." + +"If they burned it it's because they had to show--us--how they +felt--that the place wasn't fit to live in! Mr. Norris, the Mill people +_are_ nice people; I heard--I heard someone say that this was the only +Mill in all New England where real white folks worked--but they think +we--I mean--the Forsyths--don't care--" + +Norris stood up abruptly. Somehow or another he must end this absurd +interview while he could yet hang on to his temper. Some one of these +miserable agitators--he suspected who it might be--had influenced the +girl, was using her for a tool. He had heard, of course, of the intimacy +between Miss Gordon and the Lynchs. + +"My dear girl--you have no idea how much I would like to go into all +this with you and straighten out the muddle in your head--but, really, I +am a very busy man. Tell me, didn't young Dale Lynch persuade you to +come to me?" + +Robin's lips parted impulsively to deny it--then closed. Dale _had_ +suggested her coming to Norris. Before she could explain, the man went +on, a ring of triumph sharpening his voice. + +"Ah, I thought so! Now let me tell you why he is disgruntled. I would +not look at some contrivance he brought to me which he claims will, when +it is perfected, increase the efficiency of our looms fifty per cent. +He's a bright young fellow but he doesn't know his place, and he's too +chummy with a certain man in these Mills to be healthy for him. However, +I'm looking to our friend the town constable to straighten all that out. +Now, Miss Gordon," with a hand on her shoulder he gently and in a +fatherly manner led her toward the door. "I would suggest, that, without +the advice of your aunt--or your guardian--you do not worry your pretty +little red head over this!" And he bowed her with pleasant courtesy out +of the door. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" _Another_ one telling her not to worry! She clenched her +teeth that no one in the outer office might see how near she was to +tears. Outside, in a stifled voice, she directed Williams to drive her +back to the Manor, then sat very straight in the car as though those +hateful eyes could pierce the thick walls and gloat over her defeat. + +Halfway to the Manor she remembered suddenly that she had quite ignored +the study hours and that doubtless poor Percival Tubbs was pulling his +Van Dyke to pieces in his rage. Then in turn she forgot the tutor in a +flash of concern for Dale. That beast of a Norris had said something +about Dale being too chummy with a certain man--and the constable! Did +they suspect Adam Kraus and Dale of setting fire to the cottage? Oh, +why had she let him think Dale had suggested her interfering for the +Rileys--how stupid she had been! If they arrested Dale and accused him +it would be her own fault. A fine way for her to repay dear, dear Mother +Lynch. What _could_ she do? + +Beryl met her with the warning that Mr. Tubbs was "simply furious"--and +had said something about "standing this vagary about as long as he +could," which did not mean much to Robin, not half so much as Beryl's +own ill-temper, for the tutor had taken the annoyance of Robin's +high-handed absentedness out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl cross +she could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into trouble. She must +meet the situation alone. + +She must warn Dale, first of all. And to do that she must resort to the +distasteful expedient of hanging about in the groceries-and-notions +store until Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as he might +possibly do. + +She found no difficulty in getting away alone, for Beryl, in the sulks, +had buried herself in the deep window-seat of the library. Down in the +store she startled the old storekeeper by an almost wholesale order of +candies and cookies and topped it off by a demand for a pink knitting +wool, which, Robin hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmost +shelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grumbling under his breath, she +hurriedly told him she _didn't_ want it and dropped a crisp five dollar +bill on the counter, for the men were pouring down the street and any +moment Dale might come. + +No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad of her fancy, could have +planned things to more of a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurd +purchases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam Kraus walked +along. It was not so much the unusualness of the girl's being there--and +alone, that brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring look in +her wide and serious eyes. + +"Where's Beryl--or that chauffeur?" He took her packages from her. + +"I want to talk to you. I _have_ to. Will you walk just a little way +home with me?" + +"Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, let's cut through here." For +Dale realized that many curious eyes were staring at them, and not too +kindly. Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truckling" to a +Forsyth, which, just then, was likely to bring contempt upon him. + +Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous picture they made; she in her +warm suit of softest duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his working +clothes, swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other balancing +her knobby packages. All she thought of was that this was Dale, the +Prince who had once befriended her, whose make-believe presence had +often gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who was in danger now; +and he looked down into the little face under its fringe of flame-red +hair and wondered what in the world made it so tragic and why it +strangely haunted him as belonging to some far-off picture in the past. + +Vehemently, because it had been bottled up so long, Robin told him how +afraid she was for him--that Norris had as much as said he suspected him +and Adam Kraus, and that the constable might arrest them any moment and +wouldn't he please--go away--or--or something? + +"He says you're disgruntled 'cause he wouldn't look at your 'toy.' He's +terribly mad about everything--I could see it in his horrid eyes. Oh, I +_hate_ him!" she finished. + +They had left the village and were close to the bend in the road where +stood the House of Laughter. Dale stopped short and threw his head back +with a loud laugh. Robin had wondered in her heart with what courage her +Prince would take the news of his danger but she had not expected this! +However, his laugh softened the lines of his face until it looked boyish +and oh, so much like it had that night long ago when she had been lost. + +"Well, here I am laughing away and forgetting to thank you for wanting +to help me. But you needn't be afraid for me, Miss Robin. There is still +a little justice in the world, in spite of men like Norris, and I can +prove to anyone that I was snug in my bed until my mother dragged me +out to go off up to the old village. I can't say I helped fight the +fire--what was the use? Nothing could have saved the old place. And I'd +rather like to shake hands with the man who set it on fire, though it +was sort of a low-down trick. Norris won't house anyone in that +rat-hole." + +An immense relief shone in Robin's face. She knew Dale had not done the +"low-down trick." She wished she had made Norris believe it! + +"About the toy--" Dale went on, soberly. "Maybe in the end it'll be a +good thing for me that Norris turned it down. Adam Kraus has taken it +and he's going to have some little metal contrivances made that it had +to have and then he'll take it to Grangers' and he feels pretty sure +that Granger will buy it. Only I had a sort of feeling that I wanted it +used here--you see these mills gave definite shape to this thing that +has been growing in my head for a long time, just like verses in a +poet's. I went to a technical night school for years, you know, and I +couldn't get enough of the machine shop. One of the teachers in the +school got this job for me here. I'd never been outside of New York +before and I thought this was Heaven, honest." + +"Mr. Norris said you claimed it would--oh, something about efficiency," +Robin floundered. + +Dale nodded. "I not only claim, I know. That little thing of mine +attached to the looms here would revolutionize the whole industry for +the Forsyths. You see these Mills are way behind times in their +equipment; with improved looms they could turn out more work, pay better +wages, and give the men better living and working conditions. And +men--the sort they have here--will work better with up-to-date things +around them; gives them an up-to-the-minute respect for their job." + +Robin stamped her foot in one of her impetuous bursts of anger. + +"He ought to be _made_ to buy it!" she cried. + +Dale turned to her and stared at her intently. + +"You're a funny little thing. Why do you care so much?" + +Robin had a wild longing to bring back to his mind that November night, +long ago, when he had found her clinging abjectly to the palings of the +park fence and had taken her home, that she had declared then that he +was her play-prince and that she would hunt for him until she found him! +And, quite by coincidence, she _had_ found him and now she wanted to do +this thing for him and not entirely to help the Forsyth Mills! But if +she told him--and he laughed--her pretty pretend would be all over and, +because it belonged to that happy childhood in the bird-cage with +Jimmie, it was precious and she did not want to lose it--yet. + +So she flushed and answered shyly: "I--don't--know." + +"I'm ever so much obliged, Miss Robin, for your interest and your +worry--over me. It gives a fellow a jolly feeling of importance to know +that a little girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss Robin, +you've made things tremendously bright for my mother this winter--and +for my father, too. I didn't know whether mother'd be happy here in +Wassumsic after being so busy in New York but it was the only way I +could stop her from working her head off and I'd decided _my_ shoulders +were broad enough to support my family. And you've done a lot for Beryl, +too. I can see it." + +"Oh, _don't_!" cried Robin. As if she could let him thank her for Mother +Lynch--as if the debt were not on her side. They had reached the Manor +gate now and Dale handed her the packages. + +"Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, so don't you be +worrying your little head," he admonished and strangely enough Robin +answered him with a smile. _He_ was different. + +But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's "sulk" had grown, like +the gathering clouds of an impending storm, into a big gloom that did +not lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left alone in the +library with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books. From +over the edge of "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccupation +and shadow on Beryl's face. + +(Oh, why _had_ she changed that inside-out stocking!) + +"Beryl, what is the matter?" + +"Nothing." + +"There _is_. You won't read or talk or--anything." + +"Well, I don't feel like it." + +"What _do_ you feel like--inside?" persisted Robin. + +"Like--nothing. _Just_ like it." + +"Beryl, are you discouraged about--your music?" + +Robin put her finger so accurately upon the sore spot that Beryl winced. +Robin added: "You ought not to be--you're wonderful!" + +"I'm _not_. You think so 'cause you don't know! I can't get something I +used to have. I had it when I played on Christmas night and oh, I felt +as though I'd always have it--it just tingled in my fingers and made my +heart almost burst and then--it went away. I can't rouse it now. I don't +even know--what made it come--inside me. But I do know that I'm as far +away from--what I want, really working and getting ahead--as I ever was. +_Further_, way off here. At least when I was in New York I had dear old +Jacques Henri to help me!" + +Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an odd feeling as though +Beryl--the first girl friend she had ever had--might be slipping away +from her. "You want to go back to New York?" she asked stupidly. + +"Of course, silly. There isn't anything, here." + +"Then you ought to go. Beryl, you _must_ go. I'm going to give you the +rest of the money--what I saved from the Queen's Christmas gift +and--and--my allowance. Oh, please, Beryl, _don't_ look like that!" + +"Thanks!" Beryl's voice rang cold. "But I'm not reduced to charity, yet. +Of course I've been kidding myself that I earn all the money you pay me +for living here--with a few clothes thrown in. Don't think I don't know +what those horrid creatures at the Mills say about me being proud and +too stuck-up to work like Dale and the others. They even taunt Dale. I +hate myself when I think of it. And all I'm earning wouldn't keep me +very long--if I ever did go to study. Oh, I just hate--_hate_--_hate_ +being poor!" Her voice broke in a great sob. + +Robin wanted to throw her arms about her and comfort her but she was +afraid for Beryl looked like a different being. And, while she +hesitated, Beryl flung herself out of the room. + +Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry and perplexity +wrinkling her face. Everything was so stupidly hard; no matter what she +tried or wanted to do--she ran up against a wall of pride. Her poor +little treasured money that she had kept in the heart-shaped box! If she +had had it in her hands then she would have thrown it into the fire. + +Oh, for a chance to do something, give something that could not be +counted--and spurned--in dollars and cents! + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +GRANNY + + +Thoroughly exhausted by the nervous strain of the day before Robin slept +late. When she awakened it was to the alarming realization that Beryl +was not with her--her bed was empty, the room deserted, from the +bathroom came no sound of splashing water, with which Beryl usually +emphasized her morning dip. + +The unhappy happenings of the evening just past flashed into Robin's +mind. Beryl had not even said good-night, had pretended to be asleep. +What if she had gone away from the Manor? + +The thought was so upsetting that Robin dressed in frantic haste, paying +careful regard to her stockings, however, and tumbled down the stairs, +almost upsetting Harkness and a tray of breakfast. + +"Where's Beryl?" she demanded. + +"Miss Beryl's gone, Missy. She got up early and went off directly she +had breakfast." + +"Did she--did she have a bag?" faltered poor Robin. + +"Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 'near as I can +remember. Didn't she tell you she was going?" + +"Well--not so early," Robin defended. + +"If it's a quarrel, and young people fall out more times 'n not, Missy, +don't you feel badly. Miss Beryl'll be back here, mark my words! She's +smart enough to know when things are soft." + +"Don't you ever, _ever_ say that again, Harkness! Beryl didn't want to +stay here in the first place. She's proud and she's fine and she had +ambitions that are grander than anything the rest of us ever dreamed of. +It's just because it _is_ soft here that she didn't want to stay. She +thought she wasn't really earning anything. I should think--" and oh, +how her voice flayed poor trembling Harkness, "I should think if you +_cared_ anything about me you'd be dreadfully sorry to have me left +alone here--" + +"Now, Missy! Miss Robin! Old Harkness'll go straight down to the village +and bring Miss Beryl--" + +Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm. "I just said that to punish +you. No, I'll be very lonesome here but I will _not_ send for Beryl. +We'll get along someway. If I only were not rich, everything would go +all right, wouldn't it, Mr. Harkness?" + +"Well, I don't just get your meaning but I will. And I guess so, Missy. +And now what do you say to a bite of breakfast--fetched hot from the +kitchen to your own sunny room?" + +Robin knew she would break the old man's heart if she refused his +service so she climbed back up the stairs to the sunny window of the +deserted sitting-room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And as she +sat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia, sitting straight among +the cushions of the chaise longue, staring at her with faded, unblinking +eyes. Beryl had not taken the doll! + +A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. Beryl had _wanted_ to +make her feel badly. But why--oh, what had she done? + +"You can stay there, Cynthia. _I_ won't touch you," she cried, turning +to the window, and at the same time she registered the vow in her heart +that by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl know how her +desertion had hurt her. + +A week of stormy weather, which made the roads almost impassable, helped +Robin. She threw herself into her studies with a determination almost as +upsetting to Percival Tubbs as her former indifference. And when the +studies were over she buried herself in the great divan before the +library fire with books piled about her while Harkness hovered near at +hand, watching her with an anxious eye. + +Robin did not always read the open page. Sometimes, holding it before +her, she let her mind go over word by word what Dale had said to her as +they walked home from the store. It had not been much, to be sure, but +it had been enough to make her feel that her Prince had opened his heart +to her, oh, just a tiny bit. With her blessed powers of imagination and +with what Beryl had told her from time to time concerning him, she could +put everything together into a beautiful picture. + +Dale was splendid and brave--_he_ had not been afraid of being poor! And +he dreamed, too, like Sir Galahad, but a dream of machinery. And he had +had a beautiful light in his face when he had said that about his +shoulders being broad enough to support his family. Oh, Robin wished she +could see him in a scarlet coat like Sir Galahad wore in the picture. + +The snowstorm abating, Robin sent Williams to the village with a basket +of flowers for Mrs. Lynch and fruit for big Danny, and Williams brought +back a tenderly grateful little note from Mrs. Lynch--but not a word +from Beryl. + +"Everything must be all right or she'd have told me," Robin assured +herself. "Anyway Mr. Norris would be _afraid_ to arrest anyone like +Dale." + +What Robin did _not_ know--for it was not likely to disturb the +Manor--was that something far crueller than Norris was claiming the +anxiety of the Mill workers. A malignant epidemic had lifted its ugly +head and had crept stealthily into several homes, claiming its victims +in more than one. Norris feared an epidemic more than labor trouble; +unless it could be quickly stamped out it gave the Mills a bad name and +made it difficult to get hands. So, at its first appearance he called +the Mill doctor into consultation, and urged him to do everything in his +power to check the advance of the disease. + +The Mill doctor, an overworked man, wanted to tell Norris that it was a +pity that the whole "old village" had not gone up in smoke, but he +refrained from doing so; instead spoke optimistically of the weather +being in their favor, and went away. + +On an afternoon three weeks after Beryl's sudden and inexplainable +departure, the drowsy quiet of the old Manor was broken by a shrill +voice lifted in frenzied protest against Harkness' deeper tones. It +brought Percival Tubbs from his nap, Mrs. Budge from the pantry and +Robin from the library. There in the hall stood poor little Susy, her +old cap pushed back from her flaming cheeks, her eyes dark with fright, +struggling to escape from Harkness' tight hold. + +At sight of Robin her voice broke into a strangling sob. + +"Oh! Oh! _Oh!_" + +"She won't tell me her errand," explained Harkness, looking like a +guilty schoolboy caught in a bully's act. + +"Harkness, shame on you! Let her go," cried Robin. + +Freed from Harkness' hold Susy ran to Robin and clasped her knees. She +was shaking so violently that she could do nothing more than make funny, +incoherent sounds which were lost in the folds of Robin's skirt. + +"See how you've frightened her! Susy-girl, don't. _Don't_. You're with +the big girl. Tell me, what is the matter?" + +Suddenly Susy pulled at Robin's hand and, still sobbing, dragged her +resolutely toward the door. Robin caught something about "Granny." + +"Something dreadful must have happened to frighten her," Robin declared +to the others. "Won't you tell Robin, Susy? Do you want Robin to go with +you to Granny's?" + +At this Susy nodded violently, but when Robin moved to get her wraps she +burst forth in renewed wailing and clung tightly to Robin's hand. + +"Harkness, please get my coat and hat and overshoes. I'm going back with +Susy. Something's happened--" + +"Miss Gordon, indeed, you better not--" implored Harkness. + +"Hurry! Haven't you tormented the poor child enough? Don't stand there +like wood. If you don't get my things _at once_ I'll go bareheaded!" + +Harkness went off muttering and Percival Tubbs advanced a protest which +Robin did not even hear, so concerned was she in soothing poor Susy. + +In a few moments she was hurrying down the winding drive which led to +the village, with difficulty keeping up with Susy, leaving behind in the +great hall of the Manor an annoyed tutor, a worried butler and an +outraged housekeeper. + +More than one on the village street turned to stare at the strange +little couple, Susy, pale with fright, two spots of angry red burning +her cheeks, running as though possessed, and Robin limping after her +with amazing speed and utterly indifferent to anyone she met. + +As they neared the old village Susy's pace suddenly slowed down and +Robin took advantage of that to ask her more concerning Granny. + +"Granny's queer and all cold and she won't speak to me, she won't!" Susy +managed to impart between gasps. + +A terrible fear gripped Robin. Perhaps Granny was dead! And her +apprehension was confirmed when a neighbor of the Castles rushed out to +head her off. + +"Don't go in there! Don't go in there!" she cried, waving the shawl she +had caught up to wrap around her head. "They've got the sickness. The +old woman's dead. Tommy's staying at Welch's. My man's reportin' it this +mornin'. Poor old woman, went off easy, I guess, but it's hard on the +kid. Say, Miss, you oughtn' get close to her. It's awful catchin' and +you c'n tell by the look o' her she's got it, too." And the neighbor +edged away from Susy. + +In a sort of stupefied horror Robin looked at the neighbor, the wretched +house and Susy. Susy had begun to cry again, quietly, and to tremble +violently. + +"Susy Castle, you go like a good girl into the house n' stay 'til the +doctor comes and takes you," commanded the woman. "Don' you come near +anyone! Y' got the sickness! See y' shake!" + +"Go _'way_!" screamed Susy, clinging to Robin. Robin pulled her fur +from her throat and wrapped it about the shivering, sobbing child. + +"Yer takin' awful chances, miss--just _awful_," warned the neighbor, +edging backward toward her house with the air of having completed her +duty. "If y' take my advice you'll leave the kid there 'til some'un +comes. They'll likely take her t' the poor-house!" And with this +cheerful assumption she slammed her door. + +"There! There! Robin'll take you home. Don't cry," begged Robin, +kneeling in the path and encircling poor little Susy in her arms. "We'll +go back to the big house and Robin'll make you nice and warm." + +"I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her miserable little world +rocking about her. + +Robin straightened and looked at the house. Granny was dead, the +neighbor had said; nothing more could be done for her. But something in +the desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy window stuffed +with its rags, smote Robin. Poor Granny must have died all alone. No one +had even whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. Robin +knew little of death; to her it had always meant a beautiful passing to +somewhere, with lovely flowers and music and gentle grief. This was +horribly different--there was no one left but little Susy and she was +going to take Susy away at once. Ought she not to just go softly into +that house and do _something_--something kind and courteous that +Granny, somewhere above, might see--and like? + +"Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment." She walked resolutely +around to the door which Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At the +threshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers racing down her +spine, catching her breath, bringing out tiny beads of moisture on her +forehead. She had never seen a dead person--had she the courage? + +She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring straight ahead. In +its centre she stopped and looked slowly, slowly around as though +dragging her gaze to the object she dreaded--across the littered table, +the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots and pans, the dirty +floor, an overturned chair, the smoke-blackened lamp and last--last to +the bed. There, amid the tumbled quilts, lay poor Granny. + +Robin swallowed what she knew was her heart and walked to the bed. +"Granny," she said softly, because she had to say something, then almost +screamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. Strangely enough there +was a smile on the worn, thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robin +thought it had just come--she liked to _think_ it had just come. It gave +her courage. She smoothed the dirty gray covers and folded them neatly +across the still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. Then she +looked about. Her eyes lit on the faded pink flowers that still adorned +the what-not. Moving with frightened speed she caught them up and +carefully laid them on Granny's breast. + +"They were beautiful once and so was poor Granny. Good-bye, Granny," she +whispered, moving backward toward the door. Out in the air she leaned +for a moment weakly against the door jamb--then resolutely pulled +herself together, and carefully closed the door behind her. + +Susy stood where she had left her. "Come, Susy, let's hurry," Robin +cried. Catching the child's hand she broke into a run, wondering if she +could get back to the Manor before that dreadful sickening thing inside +of her quite overcame her. + +But at that moment Williams appeared in the automobile, jumped from the +seat and caught Robin just as she started to drop in a little heap to +the ground. + +"Miss Robin!" he cried in alarm. + +The feel of his strong arms and the warmth and shelter of his great coat +sent the life surging back through Robin's veins. She laughed +hysterically. + +"Take us home, quick," she implored. And so concerned was Williams that +he made no protest at lifting Susy into the car. + +Both Harkness and Mrs. Budge, with different feelings, were waiting +Williams' return in the hall of the Manor. Harkness, with real concern, +(he had despatched Williams) and Mrs. Budge with defiance. She had just +announced that she'd stood about as much as any woman "who'd give her +whole life to the Forsyths ought t' be expected to stand" when Robin +half-carried Susy into the Manor. + +"Harkness, _please_--Susy's very ill. Will you carry her to my room and +call the doctor?" + +"You'll do no such thing while _I_ stay in this house," announced Mrs. +Budge, stepping forward and placing her bulk between Harkness and Susy. +"Bringing this fever what's in the village to _this_ house! Not if my +name's Hannah Budge. We've had just 'bout as much of these common +carryings-on as I'll stand for with Madame away and--" + +"But, oh, _please_, Mrs. Budge, Susy's very sick and her grandmother's +just died and she's all alone! Harkness, _won't_ you?" + +"Oh, Missy, I think Budge--" began Harkness, his eyes imploring. + +Robin stamped her foot. + +"Shame on you all! You're just _afraid_. Will you call a doctor at +least--one of you? Get out of my way!" And half carrying--half dragging +Susy, Robin staggered to the stairs and slowly up them. + +Poor Robin vaguely remembered Jimmie once commanding Mrs. Ferrari to put +one of her brood into a tub of hot water into which he mixed mustard. So +Robin filled her gleaming tub with hot water and quickly undressed Susy +and put her, wailing, into it. Then she rushed to the pantry, +commandeered a yellow box, fled back and dropped a generous portion of +its contents into the tub. Next she spread a soft woolly blanket on her +bed, wrapped another around the child and rolled her in both until +nothing but the tip of a pink nose showed. + +She found Harkness hovering outside in the hall and ordered him to bring +hot lemonade at once, taking it a few minutes later from him through the +half-open door with a gleam of contempt in her eyes which said plainly +"Coward." She slowly fed Susy, watching the child's face anxiously and +wishing the doctor would come quickly. + +After an interminable time Dr. Brown came, a little shaky, and gray-eyed +and very concerned over his call to the Manor. After a careful +examination he reported to Percival Tubbs and Harkness that the child +was, indeed, desperately ill; that by no means could she be +moved--although it was of course a pity that Miss Forsyth had so +impulsively brought her to the Manor and thus exposed herself; that the +crisis might come within the next twenty-four hours, for evidently the +disease was well advanced before the grandmother succumbed; that he +would telegraph at once for a fresh nurse from New York as the one in +the village was at the breaking point from overwork; and that he, +himself, would come back and stay with the child through the night. + +It was a most dreadful night for everyone in the Manor--except Percival +Tubbs, who had slipped quietly to the station and taken the evening +train to New York. Harkness sat outside of Robin's door, his ear +strained for the slightest sound within. And Mrs. Budge worked far into +the night writing a letter to Cornelius Allendyce, commanding that +gentleman to come to the Manor and see for himself how things were going +and put an end, once and for all, to the whole nonsense--that she'd up +and walk out if it weren't for her loyalty to Madame Forsyth, a loyalty +sadly strained in the last few months. Of course she did not write all +this in just these same words but she made her meaning very clear. + +Behind the closed door Dr. Brown and Robin fought for the little life. +Only once the tired doctor said more than a few words--then it was to +tell Robin that she had shown remarkable judgment in her care of Susy +and that--if the child pulled through--it would be due entirely to her +prompt and thorough action. This little thought helped Robin through the +long hours, when her weary eyelids stuck over her hot, dry eyes and her +head ached. All night she willingly fetched and carried at the doctor's +command, stepping noiselessly, sometimes lingering at the foot of the +bed to watch the little face for a sign of change. + +Far into the morning the vigil lasted. Then Dr. Brown, his face haggard +but his eyes shining, whispered to Robin to go off downstairs and eat a +good breakfast--that Susy was "better." + +"You mean--she'll--get well?" + +The doctor nodded. "I believe so. She's sleeping now. Go, my dear." + +Robin peeped at the child's face. The deadly pallor and the purple flush +of fever had gone, the lips and eyelids had relaxed into the natural +repose of sleep. She tiptoed into the hall, deserted for the moment, +down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Budge turned as she pushed +open the door. + +"I--I--" The warm, sweet smell of the room sent everything dancing +before Robin's eyes. She reached out her hand as though groping for +support. "Oh, I--" Then she crumpled into Mrs. Budge's arms. + +Now that faithful soul, having sent off her letter to the lawyer-man, +had given herself over to worry, lest once more the "curse" was to visit +the House of Forsyth. Not that it could mean much to Madame, for she +hadn't set eyes on this girl Gordon, but it gave her, Hannah Budge, a +sick feeling "at the pit of her stomach" to think of things going wrong +again! So when Robin just dropped into her arms like a dead little thing +she stood as one stunned, passively awaiting a relentless Fate. + +"Quick--she's fainted. Let me take her! Fetch water," ordered Harkness. + +"Fetch it yourself! I guess I can hold her!" retorted Budge, tightening +her clasp. And as she looked down at Robin she remembered how Robin had +kissed her on Christmas night. Something within her that was hard like +rock commenced to soften and soften and grow warm and glow all through +her. Her eyes filled with tears and because both hands were occupied and +she could not wipe them away, she shook her head and two bright drops +rolled down her cheeks into Robin's face. At that moment--even before +Harkness brought his water--Robin stirred and opened her eyes and +smiled. + +"Oh--where am I? Oh--yes. Oh, I'm _so_ hungry!" + +But Budge was certain Robin was desperately ill; under her direction +Harkness carried her to Madame's own room while Mrs. Budge followed with +blankets and a hot water bottle. At noon the nurse arrived from New +York, and that evening the word spread to every corner of Wassumsic that +little Miss Forsyth had the "sickness." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ROBIN'S BEGINNING + + +Robin had done something that couldn't be counted--or spurned--in +dollars and cents. + +From door to door in the village the story spread; how Robin had gone +into the stricken cottage which even the neighbors shunned, and had +performed a last little act (and the only one) of respect for poor old +Granny, then, with her own fur around the child's neck, had taken Susy +back to the Manor. The doctor told of Robin's sensible care and how ably +she had shared with him the night's long vigil. The story was told and +re-told with little embellishments and often tears; the girls in the +Mill repeated each detail of it over their lunches, the men talked about +it in low tones as they walked homeward. + +And Robin's little service had a remarkable effect upon the Mill people. +Tongues that had been most bitter against the House of Forsyth suddenly +wagged loudest in Robin's praise; some boldly foretold the beginning of +a "better day." All felt the stirring of a certain, all-promising belief +that a Forsyth, even though a small one--"cared." + +But what was to be the cost, they asked one another, with anxious faces? + +Upon hearing that Robin herself was ill, Beryl had rushed to the Manor, +in an agony of fear. Robin mustn't be sick--she couldn't die! It was +too dreadful--She ought never to have gone into Granny Castle's +house--or touched Susy. + +Among the books Robin loved so well Beryl waited in a dumb misery for +hours, for some word. Harkness only shook his old head at her and Mrs. +Budge ignored her. Finally, standing the suspense as long as she could +she crept to the stairs and up them and in the hall above encountered a +cherry-faced white-garbed young woman. + +"May I see Robin, please?" she implored desperately. + +The young woman looked at her, hesitating. "Are you Beryl?" she asked. +Beryl nodded. "Then you may go in for a few moments but don't let that +old man and woman know--they've been hounding me to let them see her and +I've refused flatly." + +"Oh, thank you so much. There's something I have to tell Robin before--" +Beryl simply could not say it. She closed her lips with tragic meaning. + +The nurse stared at her a moment with a hint of a laugh in her eyes, +then nodded toward the door. + +"Second door, there. Only a minute!" And then she went on. + +Beryl opened the door, softly, her heart pounding against her ribs. What +if Robin were too ill to talk, to even listen-- + +Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It took a moment for her to +single out the great canopied bed from the other mammoth +furnishings--or to take in the small figure that occupied the exact +centre of that bed. + +"Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in amazement for the little +creature who smiled at her from a pile of soft pillows looked like +anything but a sick person; the vivid hair glowed with more aliveness +than ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, tinted the creamy +skin. A tray remained on a low table by the bed, its piled dishes +indicative of a feast. Beryl's amazed eyes flashed last to these then +back to Robin's smiling face. + +"Oh, Beryl, I'm so glad, _glad_ you came!" Robin reached out her arms +and Beryl rushed into them, clasping her own close about Robin. + +"I--I thought you were dreadfully sick," she gasped, at last. She drew +back and looked at Robin accusingly. "_Everyone_ thinks you're +dreadfully sick." + +"Then I suppose I ought to be," laughed Robin, "I'm not, though, I never +felt better in my life. But, oh, right after I knew Susy would get well +everything inside of me seemed to break into little pieces. Then that +nice Miss Sanford came and put me to bed and nursed and petted and fed +me and--here I am. She says I cannot get up until tomorrow. I'm so +anxious to see Susy!" + +Beryl, still holding Robin's hand, stared off into space, uncomfortably. +She had come to the Manor to tell Robin (before Robin should die) that +she had been a mean, selfish, ungrateful thing to run away from the +Manor the way she had done and stay away--and to beg for Robin's +forgiveness. Now she found it difficult to say all this to a pinky, +glowing Robin, and Robin, instinctively guessing what was passing in +Beryl's mind, made her plea for forgiveness unnecessary by asking, with +a tight squeeze of Beryl's hand: "You won't go away, again?" + +"No--at least--if you want me--if--" she stumbled. + +"_If_ I want you--Beryl Lynch! It was too dreadful living here all alone +with only Mr. Tubbs and Harkness and Mrs. Budge. But, Beryl, I think +maybe everything will be different now; the first thing I knew after I +fainted was that Mrs. Budge was crying! Think of it, Beryl, +_crying_--and over me! And Mr. Tubbs ran away." + +"Really, truly?" + +"Yes--the poor thing was scared silly. He didn't tell a soul he was +going and after he reached New York he telephoned." + +"Dale says everyone at the Mills is talking about you, Robin--and what +you did." + +"Why," Robin's face sobered, "I didn't do--anything." + +"Well, Dale says your going in to poor old Granny the way you did has +made everyone like you. And they were getting awfully worked up against +the Forsyths and the Mills. I will admit it seems funny to me--making +such a fuss over such a little thing. I wish--as long as you're all +right now--you had done something real heroic, like jumping into the +river to save someone or going into a burning building." + +"Oh, I'd have never had the courage to do _that_," protested Robin, +shuddering. + +At that moment the nurse put her head in the door. + +"Three minutes are up," she warned. + +"Please, can't she stay?" begged Robin, in alarm. + +"I must go home, anyway, Robin, to tell mother. You have no idea how +anxious she is--everyone is. People hang around our door. I suppose they +think we have the latest news about you. Well, we have, now. And, +Robin--mother was awfully angry about my--leaving you the way I did. She +begged me to come back, long ago. I'm sorry, now, I didn't. Good-bye, +Robin. I'll be back, tomorrow." + +Beryl walked to the village in a deep absorption of thought. Certain +values she had fostered had tumbled about and had to be put in order. +Here were not only hundreds of mill folk making a "fuss" over what Robin +had done, but the household of the Manor as well--old Budge, usually as +adamant as a brick wall, crying! No one loved the heroic more than +Beryl, but to her thinking it lay in a spectacular, and with a dramatic +indifference, risking one's own life for another, not in a little +unnecessary sentimental impulse. When she had heard of what Robin had +done she had declared her "crazy" to go near the Castles, to which her +mother had indignantly replied: "And are you thinking the blessed child +ever thinks of herself at all?" _That_ was the quality, of course, about +Robin that you never guessed from anything she said but that you just +felt. And the Mill people were feeling it now. + +Turning these thoughts over and over, Beryl suddenly faced the +disturbing conviction that she was moulding her own young life on very +opposite lines. Tell herself as often as she liked--and it was +often--that she'd had to fight to get everything she had and to keep it, +she knew that it never crossed her mind to ask herself what she was +giving--to Dale, who carried a double burden, to poor big Danny, to her +brave little mother who had sheltered her so valiantly from the +coarsening things about her that she might keep "fine" and have "fine" +things. + +The next day the nurse let Robin dress, to poor Harkness' tearful +delight. And Robin, roaming the house as though she had returned to it +from a long absence, found, indeed, the change she had prophesied. For +Mrs. Budge, in strangely genial mood, was fussily preparing more +delectable invalid dishes than a dozen convalescing Susies or well +Robins could possibly eat. + +One little cloud, however, shadowed Budge's relief. She wished she +hadn't sent the letter to the lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how my +grandmother always said to look out for the written word, and held my +tongue," she mourned and so complete was her transformation that she +forgot she had written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty to +the Forsyths--as she had seen it then. + +Upon this new order of things Cornelius Allendyce arrived, unheralded, +and very tired from a long journey. Budge's letter had been forwarded to +him at Miami where he had been pleasantly recuperating from his siege of +sciatica. It had disturbed him tremendously, and he had spent the long +hours on the railroad train upbraiding himself for his neglect of his +ward. The conditions at which Budge had clumsily hinted grew more +serious as he thought of them, until he found himself wondering if +perhaps he ought not to smuggle his little ward back to her fifth-floor +home before Madame discovered the havoc she had made of the Forsyth +traditions. + +Outwardly, the Manor appeared the same, to the lawyer's intense relief. +Within, the most startling change seemed the laughing voices that +floated out to him from the library. Harkness took his coat and hat and +bag a little excitedly and with repeated nods toward the library. + +"Miss Robin'll be mighty glad to see you, I'm sure; but she has a lydy +guest for dinner." + +"The man actually acts as though I had no right to come unannounced," +thought Cornelius Allendyce. + +Robin met him with a rush and a glad little cry. "I thought you were +never, _never_ coming! I'm so glad. But why didn't you send us word? I +want you to know Beryl's mother and Beryl. They're my best friends. And, +oh, I have _so_ much to tell you!" + +"Mrs. Lynch!" A line of Budge's letter flashed across the man's mind, +yet he found himself talking to a gentle-faced woman with grave eyes and +a tender, merry mouth. And Beryl (whom Budge had called "that young +person") did not seem at all coarse or unwholesome. He did not notice +that the clothes both wore were simple and inexpensive--he only +registered the impression that the mother seemed quiet and refined and +the girl had a frank honesty in her face that was most pleasing. + +Robin, indeed, had so much to tell him that he made no effort to get +"head or tail" to it; rather he lost himself in wonder at the change in +his little ward. This spirited, assured young person could not be the +same little thing he had left months ago. She'd actually grown, too. + +He laughed at Robin's description of the desertion of Percival Tubbs. + +"Poor man, I guess I'd driven him crazy, anyway. I simply couldn't learn +the lessons he gave me. But, oh, I haven't wasted my time, truly, for +I've gotten more out of these precious books here than I ever got out +of school. Guardian dear, _they've_ made me grow. I don't think my +pretend stories any more, either. I can't seem to, for everything about +me is so real and so big and so--so important." Robin imparted this +information with a serious note in her voice--as though she feared her +guardian might be sorry that she had put her childish "pretends" behind +her. + +"Dear me," he said, "then we won't know whether you meet the Prince in +the last chapter and live happily ever after? You _have_ grown up; I +can't get used to it." + +Robin blushed furiously at this and changed the subject lest her +guardian could glimpse under her flaming hair and guess the one pretty +"pretend" she still cherished. + +While the girls were upstairs Mrs. Lynch told Cornelius Allendyce the +story of Susy, and Robin's visit to the old house. She told it simply +but in its every detail so that Robin's guardian could follow it very +closely. He listened, with his eyes dropped to the rug at his feet, and +for a few moments he kept them there, so that Mrs. Lynch wondered if he +were angry. Then suddenly he looked at her and a smile broke over his +face. + +"Our little girl's letting down a few barriers, isn't she?" he asked, +and Mrs. Lynch, understanding him with her quick instinct, nodded with +bright eyes. + +"Ah, 'tis true as true what my old Father Murphy once said to me--that +wealth is what you give, not what you get!" + +The most amazing thing to the lawyer in the new order was the cheerful +importance, and the new geniality of Hannah Budge. Accustomed as he was, +from long acquaintance with the family, to her sour nature, he caught +himself watching her now in a sort of unbelief. He understood her +attentiveness to his comfort when she touched his arm and begged a word +with him. + +"It's about that letter," she whispered, her eyes rolling around for any +possible eavesdropper. "I'll ask you not to tell Miss Gordon nor Timothy +Harkness. I'm old and new ways are new ways but I'll serve Miss Gordon +as I've always served the Forsyths." + +A dignity in the old housekeeper's surrender touched Cornelius +Allendyce. He patted her shoulder and told her not to worry about the +letter; to be sure it had spoiled a rather nice golf match but he ought +to have run up to Wassumsic long before. + +"The little girl I found isn't such a bad Forsyth, after all?" he could +not resist asking her, however. But Harkness, appearing at that moment, +spared Mrs. Budge the unaccustomed humiliation of admitting she had been +wrong. + +After dinner Robin persuaded her guardian to walk with them to the +village while they escorted "Mother Lynch" home, and then stop at the +House of Laughter. There, Beryl lighted the lamps and Robin led a tour +of inspection through the rooms, telling her guardian as they went, of +her beautiful plans and their failure. At a warning sign from Beryl she +regretfully left out the generous contribution of their mysterious Queen +of Altruria. Most of the furniture, she explained, had come from the +Manor garrets. + +While they were talking a knock sounded at the door. Robin opened it to +find Sophie Mack and three companions standing on the threshold. + +"Mrs. Lynch said she thought you were up here," Sophie explained, +awkwardly. "We're getting up a social club and we want to know if you'll +let us meet here." + +"Of course you can meet here!" Robin made no effort to control the +surprise in her voice. "That's what this little house is for." + +"Maybe you'll join, sometime. As an honorary member or something like +that--" one of Sophie's companions broke in. + +"Oh, I'd love to." + +"We want to pay, you know," persisted Sophie. + +"Of course--anything you--think you can." + +The girls, refusing Robin's invitation to go into the cottage, turned +and went back to the village. Robin closed the door and leaned against +it with a long-drawn breath of delight. + +"Guardian dear, _that's_ the beginning. Dale's right--they'll use it, +if I let them pay. Why are you laughing at me?" + +Cornelius Allendyce's face sobered. He drew the girl to him. + +"I'm not laughing. I'm only marvelling at the leaps and bounds with +which your education has gone forward. Some people die at an old age +without acquiring one smallest part of the human understanding you are +learning through these--notions--of yours." + +Robin made a little face. "Notions! Beryl calls them 'crazy ideas.' +_Someone else_ called them an 'experiment.' Dear Mother Lynch is the +_only_ one who really believes in what I want to do. You see, I just +want the people here to think that a Forsyth cares whether they're happy +or not. Dale says I didn't start right and maybe I didn't--but +anyway--"--She nodded toward the door as though Sophie might still be on +the threshold, "_they're_ a beginning!" + +Her guardian did not answer this and looked so strange that Robin went +no further in her confidences. Perhaps something had displeased him, she +must wait until some other time to tell him about Dale and his model and +her visit to Frank Norris. + +Back in the library, before the crackling fire, Robin begged Beryl to +play for her guardian. + +"She's wonderful," she whispered while Beryl was getting the violin. +"She makes you feel all funny inside." + +Beryl stood in the shadow and played. Robin, watching her guardian, +thrilled with satisfaction when the man's face betrayed that he, too, +felt "all funny inside" under the magic of Beryl's bow. + +"Come here, my girl," he commanded when Beryl stopped. He bent a +searching look upon her. "Come here and sit down and tell me about +yourself." + +"Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, triumphantly. + +The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out Beryl's story--of the simple +home in the tenement from which her mother shut out all that was +coarsening and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her tastes with +dreams she persistently cherished against disheartening odds; of the +Belgian musician who had first taught her small fingers and fired her +ambitions for only the best in the art; of school and the lessons she +devoured because she craved knowledge and the advantages of possessing +it. + +"How long have you lived here?" + +"We came last summer. Dale wanted to work where there were machines and +he got a job in the Forsyth Mills." + +"You are planning to go back to New York and study?" + +Beryl's face clouded. "Sometime. But I can't until I earn the money, and +it takes such a lot." + +"Yes, and courage, too," added the lawyer softly, as though he were +speaking to himself. + +Beryl abruptly lifted her violin from her lap to put it in the case. As +she did so, its head caught in the string of green beads which, in +honor of the occasion, she was wearing. The slender cord that held them +snapped and the pretty beads scattered over the floor. + +"Oh, dear!" cried Beryl, dismayed, dropping to her knees to find them. + +Robin helped her search and in a few moments they had gathered them all. + +"They're only beads but they're very old and a keepsake," Beryl +explained, in apology for her moment's alarm. + +"They're pretty and they're darling on you!" + +"A wonderful color." The lawyer took one and examined it. "If you care +for them you'd better let me take them back to New York with me and have +them strung on a wire that will not break." + +"Oh, let him, Beryl. And he can have a good clasp put on. You know you +said that clasp was poor." + +Beryl hesitated a moment. Ought she to tell him the beads were her +mother's and that her mother prized them dearly? No, he might laugh at +anyone's caring a fig about just plain beads. She took the envelope +Robin brought her, dropped the beads into it, sealed it, and gave it to +Robin's guardian. + +Cornelius Allendyce slept little that night. He laid it to the extreme +quiet of the hills; in reality his head whirled with the amazing +impressions that had been forced upon him. + +"Extraordinary!" he muttered, staring at the night light. And he +repeated it again and again; once, when he thought of the little +woman, Mrs. Lynch, with the dreaming eyes which seemed to see beyond +things. What was the absurd thing she had said? "'Tis what you give and +not what you get is wealth." Extraordinary! And where had Robin picked +up these notions concerning the Mill people? And her House of +What-did-she-call-it? There was considerable significance about it. +Uncanny, downright uncanny, though, for a girl her age to have such a +far-reaching vision. Probably the child didn't realize, herself. Well, +there was Jeanne d'Arc, and others, too, he pondered, hazily. And this +talented girl Robin had found--a most unusual girl, who'd grown up in a +tenement like a flower among weeds, yes, he'd seen such flowers growing +amid rankest vegetation! She was not unlike Robin, herself. His mind +circled to Robin's own little fifth-floor nest and the horrible odors of +that dark stairway. Strange, extraordinary, that these two lives had +crossed. "This world's a queer world!" Both girls brought up in a +poverty that denied them all those jolly sort of advantages young girls +liked, and yet each sheltered by a mother's great love from the things +in poverty that coarsen and hurt. "Aye, a mother's love," and the little +lawyer thought of "Mother Lynch" with something very akin to reverence; +and of Jimmie, too, poor Jimmie, who, in his stumbling, mistaken way, +had tried to give a mother's love to Robin. + +But suddenly the man aroused from his absorbed philosophizing and sat +bolt upright in bed. All right to think about letting down +barriers--whose barriers were they? Proud old Madame loved those +barriers--and she'd never accept, as Budge had, what Budge called the +"new ways." What then? "There'll be a reckoning--" + +With a sharp little exclamation of annoyance the distraught guardian +drew his watch from under his pillow and held it to the tiny shaft of +light. "Half-past-one!" Well, he did not need to cross that bridge until +he came to it! He dug his tired head into his pillow and went to sleep +to dream of Madame Forsyth and Robin and Jeanne d'Arc sitting in a +social club at the House of Laughter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT THE GRANGER MILLS + + +"I really think, little Miss Robin, that you ought to go." + +"Why, I should think you'd be _crazy_ to go!" + +"If I may be so bold's to remind you, the man is waiting for an answer." + +Robin looked from her guardian's face to Beryl's to Harkness'. + +"You're all conspiring against me, I do believe!" she cried. "I'll go if +you say I ought to, but I just hate to. I don't want to meet the young +people, there. And I'm dreadfully afraid of Mrs. Granger since Susy +spoiled her dress." + +"Mrs. Granger was one of your Aunt Mathilde's closest friends--until the +death of young Christopher. Then, in the strange mood your aunt +encouraged, she let the intimacy drop. I've often wondered if the +Grangers did not resent that. You have an opportunity now, Robin, to +restore the old terms between the two families, so that when your--aunt +returns she will find the old tie awaiting her." + +Robin stared, wide-eyed, at her guardian. It was the first time he had +spoken of her aunt's return. + +"When is my aunt coming back? Do you know I never _think_ of her coming +back? Isn't that dreadful? I know she won't like me--" + +"Don't let's worry about that now," broke in Cornelius Allendyce with +suspicious haste. And Harkness, standing stiffly by the table, waiting +instructions, fell suddenly to rearranging the books and magazines which +had been in perfect order. + +Mrs. Granger's chauffeur had brought a note to the Manor asking Robin to +make them a few days' visit during the coming week. "My son and daughter +have some young people here and you will find it a lively change from +the quiet of your aunt's." + +Robin used her last argument. "But you've only been here for a few days, +guardian dear. And there's a _lot_ more I want to tell you--oh, that's +very important." + +"Can't it wait until I come again? I'd have to go back to New York +tomorrow, my dear, anyway. Come, this little visit of yours is as +necessary to your education as a Forsyth as any of Mr. Tubbs' tiresome +lessons. And then, as I said, you can win back my lady Granger's +affection." + +"Well, I'll go," cried Robin, in such a miserable voice that Beryl gave +her a little shake. + +Beryl saw in the visit all kinds of adventure. First, Robin must keep +her eyes open and determine whether Miss Alicia Granger still mourned +for young Christopher or whether she was faithless to his memory. Then +there'd be the young people, probably from New York, with all kinds of +new clothes and new slang and new stories of that happy whirl in which +Beryl fancied all young people of wealth lived. And then there was the +son, Tom. And Robin could wear the white and silver georgette dress. + +"I wish it were you going instead of me," Robin mourned, not at all +encouraged by Beryl's enthusiasm. "You're so tall and pretty, Beryl, and +can always think of things to say." + +There shone, however, one bright ray in all the gloom--the Granger home, +Harkness had said, was only a mile from the Granger Mills. Adam Kraus +and Dale had spoken of the Granger Mills as though they were almost +perfect. She wanted to see them, at least, on the outside. + +With a heart so heavy that she scarcely noticed the sheen of soft green +with which the early spring had dressed the hills, Robin arrived at +Wyckham, the Granger home, at tea time. She was only conscious of a +wide, low door, level with the bricked terrace, flanked by stone seats; +that this door opened and revealed a circle of merry-voiced young people +gathered around a great fireplace. As the impressive under-butler took +her bags from Williams one of the group rose quickly and came toward +her. She was very tall and slender with an oval-shaped face and a +prominent nose like Mrs. Granger's. Robin knew she was Miss Alicia. She +answered something unintelligible to Miss Alicia's informal greeting and +let herself be drawn into the circle. + +There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere from sixteen to +twenty--three very pretty, obviously conscious of their modish garments +and wanting everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, Rosalyn +Crane, tall and tanned and strong in limb and shoulder, with frank dark +eyes and red lips which smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-white +teeth. Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and promptly +tucked Robin under her wing. + +For the next several hours life moved forward for Robin at such a +dizzying pace that she felt as though she were sitting apart from her +body and watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had never dreamed +of doing before; the noisy tea-circle, the room she shared with the nice +girl, the casual welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silver +dress and the silver slippers that matched, the beautiful drawing room +so alive with color and jollity, the long table gleaming with crystal +and silver, the voices, voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shoulders +and the bright eyes and the red, red cheeks, the Japanese servants, +velvet-footed, the big, hot-house strawberries, music and dancing, +(everyone dancing but her) and then, at last, bed. + +Out of the whirl stood two pleasant moments: one when Mr. Granger had +spoken to her, the other--Tom. + +Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed with fine lines that +curved up when he smiled. He patted her on the shoulder and said: "A +Forsyth girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. And she was +not afraid of him and answered easily and not in the tongue-tied way she +spoke to Miss Alicia and her friends. + +And Tom Granger looked like his father. He had a jolly way of talking, +too, and talked mostly to Rosalyn Crane. He had sat between her and +Robin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite comfortable by acting as +though they were old acquaintances and did not need to keep up a fire of +banter like the others. + +The next morning Robin came downstairs to find the house deserted except +for the noiseless butlers who stared at her as though she were some +strange freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for Tom, coming in +from the garage, greeted her with a pleasant: "Say, you're an early +bird, aren't you?" and then directed one of the butlers to bring her +some breakfast in the sun-room. + +"_You've_ got some sense. Al's crowd will miss half of this glorious +day!" he commented, leading Robin into a glass-enclosed room, in the +centre of which splashed a jolly fountain. + +Tom sat with her while she ate the breakfast the Jap brought on a +lacquered tray. He kept up a fire of breezy talk just as though she were +the nice Rosalyn Crane. It was mostly about the baseball nine at +Hotchkiss, of which he was manager, and the new golf holes and an +inter-school swimming match and such things, concerning which poor +Robin knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that Robin did not +feel in the least shy or awkward. + +"Say, don't you want to go with me while I try out my new car? The road +toward Cornwall is good and I've bet that I can get her up to sixty. +Great morning, too. Are you game?" + +Robin felt game for anything that would take her away from Miss Alicia's +friends--except Rosalyn. Tom took her back to the garage and tucked her +into half of the low seat and climbed in beside her. + +For the next two hours they tore back and forth over the Cornwall road +at a pace that caught Robin's breath in her throat. Occasionally Tom +talked, but most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes on the +road ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, as though the innocent +stretch of macadam was prey for his vengeance. + +Just outside of the town he slowed the car down to a snail's pace. + +"Some baby, isn't she?" he asked and at Robin's perplexed eyes he went +off into rollicking laughter. "Why she _eats_ the road! Dad said I +couldn't get it out of her. I'll tell the world. Whew!" + +Robin sat forward, suddenly alert. + +"Are those the Mills?" + +"Yep." + +They were not so very unlike the Forsyth Mills--brick walls, dust, dirt, +smoke, towering chimneys, and noise, noise. But beyond them and the +river were rows of neat little white cottages, each with a yard, already +green. + +"Best mills in New England. But Dad's prouder of his model village--as +Mother calls those cottages over there--than of his profit sheet. And +look at the school--Dad wanted a school good enough for his own son and +daughter, but Mother wouldn't let us go. I wish she had--I'll bet +there's enough good batting material right in this town to whip every +nine in this part of the country. There's Dad's library, too--" + +But Robin did not heed the direction of his nod. She had suddenly seen +something that made her heart leap into her throat; Adam Kraus walking +into the office building carrying the square box with the leather +handles, which she knew contained Dale's model. He was taking it to Mr. +Granger. + +A panic gripped Robin. She must do something to save that model for the +Forsyth Mills--she did not know just what, but _something_-- + +"Stop, oh, stop. Couldn't I see your--father? I'd _like_ to." + +Tom looked puzzled, but good-naturedly turned the car. Robin climbed out +with amazing speed. + +"Take me to his office, oh, _please_ take me," she begged, with such +earnestness that Tom wondered if she'd gone "clean dotty." + +Inside the office building there was no sign of Adam Kraus, for the +reason, though Robin did not know it, that it was his second visit; he +was there by appointment, and he had used a stairway that led directly +to Mr. Granger's office, while Tom took Robin through the main office +where a neatly dressed girl blocked their way. + +Mr. Granger was busy but the young lady could wait, this efficient young +person informed them, quite indifferent to the fact that she addressed +Thomas Granger and Gordon Forsyth. And Robin walked into an enclosure, +half consulting room, half waiting room, and sat down with fast beating +heart, upon a leather and mahogany chair. + +"I'll wait out here 'til you see Dad," Tom told her, to her relief, and +she heard him telling one of the clerks how his "baby" could make sixty +as easy-- + +Suddenly Robin took in other voices, one deep, one soft and drawling. A +door at the end of the room stood half-open. She leaned toward it, +alertly listening. + +"And you say this invention is your own, Kraus? Have you your patents?" + +"My applications have all gone in and I have some of the patents. Yes, +sir, it's my own." + +"Doran reported very favorably. With one or two changes--suppose we find +Doran, now." There came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, the +model will be quite safe here. I want Doran to point out one or two +things on our new loom. It will only take a moment. Then we'll bring +him back here." + +Oh, would they come out through the waiting-room--thought Robin, +shrinking back. And what had Adam Kraus said? + +But Mr. Granger had opened another door--Robin heard it close. She +stepped noiselessly toward that half-open door at the end of the room. +Her head was clear, her heart atingle. + +He, Adam Kraus, had _dared_ to say the invention was his! The wicked +man, the traitor--to betray Dale's trust, his friendship! + +The office was quite empty. And on the big desk, amid a litter of papers +and letters and books and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsy +box. + +Robin caught it up and held it close to her, defiantly. She snatched a +pencil and scrawled a few lines on the back of an envelope, then she +tiptoed out into the consulting office and on through the main office. +Tom was waiting at the end of the room. It seemed to Robin as though +hundreds of eyes accused her; in reality only a few lifted from the work +of the day to stare at the young girl Tom Granger had brought to see his +father. And if anyone wondered why she carried the queer box, no one of +them was likely to presume to question any friend of the Grangers. + +"Did y'see Dad?" But Tom, to Robin's relief, took that for granted and +turned back to his acquaintance among the clerks. + +"I'll take you out with me and _prove_ it to you!" + +Robin wanted to beg Tom to run but she did not dare. He asked to carry +the box and she let him, for fear, if she refused, he might suspect +something. Queer shivers raced up and down her spine and a dreadful +sinking feeling attacked her heart and dragged at her throat so that she +could scarcely speak. + +He helped her into the car and climbed in himself. He leisurely +experimented with the gears, until Robin almost screamed in her anxiety. +Then just as he started the motor, a shout hailed them from the office +door, and both turned to see Adam Kraus tearing down the steps +bareheaded, wildly waving his arms, followed by a half-dozen clerks and +Mr. Granger, himself. + +"Go! _Go!_" implored Robin, catching his arm, and so frightened rang her +voice that Tom instinctively obeyed and stepped on the accelerator with +such force that the car shot forward. "Oh, _faster! Faster!_" she +sobbed. "_He's coming._" A backward glance had told her that Adam Kraus +intended to give chase; still bareheaded, he had jumped into a Ford +standing in the road. + +"Well, I don't know what we're running away from, but my baby can give +anything on wheels a good go-by!" laughed Tom, his eyes keen. He leaned +over the wheel, his face fixed on the road with its "eat-her-up" +tensity. + +They turned into the Cornwall road. At a rise Robin saw the other car +with its bareheaded driver tearing after them. + +"Oh, he's coming," she moaned, sinking down into the seat. + +"Say, Miss Forsyth----I'm keen----on--running----away--but +what--the--deuce--from? Who's that----fellow----following--us----why are +you----afraid?" He flung the words jerkily, sideways, at Robin. + +"I'll tell you--afterwards," Robin gasped back. The wind whistled past +her, she lost her hat. She crouched in her seat, her hands clinging +tightly to the box, her head turned as though expecting their pursuer to +overtake them any moment. + +Suddenly Tom frowned. At the same time the engine gave a grating +"b-r-r-r." + +"Oh, what is it?" + +"Oil's getting low----Bad----" she caught in answer. "Pulling +some----I'll----fool him, though--" He slowed down. + +"Don't--" implored Robin. + +"We'll turn down this road. _He'll_ go straight on. Clever, eh? Say, I +wouldn't have guessed you had all this spunk in you!" he took the time +to say, casting her an admiring glance. + +He made the turn and the "baby" ploughed through the soft rough road at +a perilous clip. The road wound through thickly wooded hills, up and +down, apparently leading to nowhere. + +Suddenly it twisted up a long hill. Tom's car climbed easily, slackening +its speed for a few moments at the top. Turning, Robin could make out +the course over which they had come and, to her horror, the little car +plunging over it. + +"Look--_look!_" she cried. + +"Well, I'll be--blowed!" Tom Granger stared as though he could not +believe his eyes. "He saw the marks of my new tires, I guess. He's a +sharp one. Cheer up--we're not caught yet." He increased the speed; they +tore down the slope in breakneck haste. + +But, in the hollow, the car slopped out of the muddy ruts, gave a +sickening lurch sidewise and dropped with a jolt into mud to the axles. + +His face white with excitement Tom Granger tore at the gears, tried to +go back, to go forward, but in vain. And, presently, they both heard the +distant throb of a motor. + +Robin jumped down from the car, hugging her box. "I'll run. Good-bye, +Tom, thank you _so_ much!" She was far too excited to realize the +familiar way in which she had addressed him. She had cleared the ditch +and stood on the fringe of the deep woods. + +"I'll tell you sometime--about it!" she flung to him. +"I'm--not--stealing! That man--will know--" and she disappeared among +the leafing undergrowth. + +"Well, I'll--be--Oh, I _say_, Miss Forsyth, don't--" But the boy's +attention, quite naturally, turned to meet the enemy, who at that moment +appeared over the crest of the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE GREEN BEADS + + +Beryl waved Robin off to the Granger's with a forced cheerfulness. Left +alone, she sat in the room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily at +the disarray left from the frenzied packing and unpacking. + +Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people with +two bags full of lovely clothes would ever, _ever_ happen to her! + +In fact _nothing_ exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and on +wanting things all her life. + +She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envy +her, but she wished she could have just _some_ of the chances Robin +had--and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one of +Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham and +hold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughty +Alicia had no terrors for _her_, and if they tried to snub her, she'd +put her violin under her chin and then-- + +The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Beryl +heard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed the +stairs and stopped outside of Robin's room. + +"Miss Beryl--a telegram." + +"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her life +and the yellow envelope frightened her. + +"The boy said as to sign here." + +Beryl wrote her name mechanically in letters that zigzagged crazily. +Harkness lingered while she tore open the envelope, concern struggling +with curiosity on his face. + +"It's from Robin's guardian. He--he wants--oh, Harkness, am I reading +_right_? He says I must come to New York at _once_--tonight, if I can. +He'll meet me--it's _extremely_ important. Why, Harkness, what in the +world has happened? It doesn't sound awful, does it? Did you ever know +of anything so mysterious in your life?" + +Harkness never had. He read the telegram with brows drawn together. + +"Mebbe they left out something," he suggested, turning the sheet and +scrutinizing its back. + +"Well, I'll _have_ to go." Beryl's voice betrayed her deep excitement. +"I _can_ catch the evening train. Oh, Harkness, how often I've watched +that go out and wished I was on it! And now I'm going to be. I'm going +to New York! Harkness, be a _dear_ and hurry some dinner, will you? I'll +pack. And oh, will you take a note to mother for me? I'll not have time +to stop. Or wait--I won't tell her I'm going until I know what it's +for--she'd worry. Isn't that best?" + +"Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, don't you fret. And +Joe'll take you down to the station in the truck, he will, for like as +not he'll be meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who lives +Boston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife--" + +"Oh, that'll be _nice_. But please hurry, Harkness. That boy's waiting +for his book. And I can't think." + +Two hours later Beryl sat upright on the plush seat of the evening +train, her old suitcase at her feet packed with every garment she +possessed. + +"This is more fun than all your old house-parties," she apostrophized +the black square of window, which dimly reflected her glowing face. Then +she lost herself in a delicious "I wonder" as to why she had been +summoned so mysteriously to New York. + +Cornelius Allendyce and Miss Effie met her at the end of her wonderful +journey, no part of which had wearied her in the least, and their +smiling faces put at rest the tiny misgiving that had persisted that she +might be walking into some sort of a scheme to separate her from Robin. + +"I am glad you got my telegram in time to catch tonight's train. I've +made an important appointment for you tomorrow morning with a friend of +mine." But not another word concerning the mystery would the lawyer say. +Both he and his sister went about with a queer smile, and treated Beryl +as fond (and rich) parents might a good child on Christmas Eve. + +The next morning Miss Effie started the two of them off for the +"appointment" with a fluttery excitement bordering on hysteria. + +"You'll think, my dear, you've rubbed Aladdin's lamp," she whispered to +Beryl, patting down the neat white collar of Beryl's coat. + +Beryl thought of her words when she followed Mr. Allendyce through a +long dim room, crowded with treasures of fabric and ceramic, rich in +coloring, fragrant of oriental perfumes. + +"He's a collector," Cornelius Allendyce explained, nodding sideways and +hurrying on to a room in the back, as though their errand had nothing to +do with the curious things about them. + +"Ah, there, Eugene, we're here! Miss Lynch, this is Eugene Dominez, +known to two continents as that rare specimen, an honest collector; to +me, the only man I can't beat at chess!" + +A very small man rose from a great carved chair. He had a thin, leathery +face with an exaggerated nose, stretched out as though from sniffing for +curios in dusty dim corners. When he smiled his eyes shut and his mouth +twisted until he looked like a jolly little gnome. + +"Ah-ha! You admit you cannot beat me!" He spoke with a soft accent. "And +this is the little lady who owns the green beads." And he peered closely +at Beryl. + +The green beads! She had not thought of them once. + +"Sit down. Sit down. I will ask you to tell me a story. Then I will tell +_you_ a story. First, my dear young lady, tell me where you found the +beads?" As he spoke, he drew open a drawer, and took from it the +envelope Robin had given to her guardian. + +Beryl answered briefly, for the simple reason that she found difficulty +managing her tongue. + +"An--an old priest--back in Ireland--gave them--to us. He'd found them +in an antique shop in London." + +"Ah, so! Just so! So! So!" crowed the gnome-like man, jumping up and +down in his great chair. "Now I will tell _you_ a story." + +"Once upon a time, as you say, a beautiful Queen of the fifteenth +century, while travelling through a forest, came upon a roving band of +gypsies. So great was her beauty that the gypsy chief gave to her a +necklace of precious jade, upon each bead of which had been tooled a +crown, so infinitesimal as to be seen only through a strong lens. The +chief told the fair Queen that the necklace brought good fortune to +whosoever possessed it. But so proud was the young Queen of the precious +beads and the good fortune that was to be hers that she boasted of them +to her Court and aroused the envy of many until a knave among her +courtiers stole them from her. For generations these beads, the +workmanship of a Magyar artisan, have passed from owner to owner, +always mysteriously, for, because of the good fortune they had power to +bestow, no one parted with them except from the most dire necessity, and +only lost them through theft. Ah," he held up one of the glowing green +globes, "the stories they could tell of greed and dishonor and cunning! +The lies that have been told for them! And an old priest found them at +last! It is many years since there has been any trace." He stared at +Beryl as though to see through her into the past. Then he roused quickly +and shook his shoulders. "They have hung about the necks of crowned +people, good people--and wicked people. Perhaps they have brought good +fortune--as the Magyar chieftain said they would. Who knows? You, my +dear--you are a girl with a sensible head on a pair of straight +shoulders--tell me, do you care more for the superstition of this +necklace--than for the money I will pay you for it--say, fifteen +thousand dollars?" + +Beryl stood up so suddenly that her chair tumbled backward, making a +crashing noise in the subdued stillness of the little room. + +"Are you joking?" she asked in a queer, choky voice. + +"No, he is not joking. And I told you he is known the world over as an +honest collector," broke in Cornelius Allendyce. + +"Fifteen--thousand--dollars! Why, that's an _awfully_ big amount, isn't +it?" Beryl appealed helplessly to the lawyer. "Why--of _course_ I'll +sell it--if you're sure it's what you think it is. I--I don't want--" + +The little collector handed her one of the beads and a strong magnifying +glass. "Look!" he commanded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, she +made out a tiny crown. + +She laughed hysterically. "I see it! I thought that was a scratch. I +never noticed it was on every one. Oh, how queer! A queen wore these!" +She rolled the bead slowly in the palm of her hand. Then she handed it +back. "But I'd much rather have the money than the beads even if a dozen +queens wore them." Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the exotic +atmosphere of the room. + +"I explained to Mr. Dominez your situation--and your ambition," +Cornelius Allendyce put in almost apologetically. + +"Mr. Allendyce will represent you in this deal, Miss Lynch, if you care +to think the sale over. However, I am giving you a final offer. You are +young and--" + +Beryl reached out both hands with childish impulsiveness. "Oh, I want +the money _now!_ I want to spend it. I want--oh, you don't _know_ all I +want--" She stopped abruptly, confused by the smiles on both men's +faces. + +"Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment in cash and the rest I will +deposit in the bank to your credit," explained Cornelius Allendyce. +"You need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear; fortune like +this does not come often to anyone. It's hard, indeed, not to believe +that the little beads _have_ magic." + +"I'm dreaming. I'm just _plain dreaming_ and I'll wake up in a minute +and find I'm Beryl Lynch, poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself as +she followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of the street. She +felt of her bulging pocketbook, into which she had put the roll of bills +the little collector had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardian +had counted over, quite seriously. It felt real but it just _couldn't_ +be true-- + +"Now where, my dear? You ought to make this day one you'll never +forget." + +"Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? Oh, then--then--can I go to +see Jacques Henri and tell him? I know the way--I can take the Ninth +Avenue Elevated--or--Would it be _very_ foolish if I took a taxi?" Beryl +colored furiously. + +"Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the taxi and keep it there to +return to my house; then you and Miss Effie put your heads together and +decide just what you want to do first with your money." + +Beryl rejoiced that it was a nice shiny taxi, quite like a real lady's +car. She sniffed delightedly the leathery smell, sat bolt upright with +her chin in the air. + +"Go straight down Fifth Avenue," she instructed the driver. + +Spring, with its eternal sorcery, caressed the great city. Its spell +threw a sheen over the drab things Beryl remembered so well, the brick +schoolhouse, the Settlement, the dirty narrow street flanked by +dull-brown tenements with their endless fire escapes mounting higher and +higher, hung now with bedding of every color. The street swarmed with +children returning from school, and they gathered about the automobile +climbing on to the running board on either side and peering through the +windows. + +"It's the Lynch girl," someone cried and another answered jeeringly. + +"Aw, git off! Wot she doin' in this swell autymobile?" + +Beryl did not mind in the least the street urchins; even though she had +lived among them, neither she nor Dale had ever been of them, thanks to +her mother's watchful care. She smiled at them and fled into the dark +alley way that led to the court which, all through her childhood, had +been her playground. + +As she climbed, a dreadful thought appalled her. What if dear old +Jacques Henri had moved away--or died! But, no, at the very moment she +let the fear halt her climbing step she heard the dear sound of his +violin. She crept to his door and softly opened it. + +The old man stood near his window, through which he could see a slit of +blue sky between two walls. On the sill were the pink geraniums he +nursed through winter and summer, their pinkness brightening the gloom +of the bare, dim room. Jacques Henri called them his family. + +"Jacques Henri!" Beryl ran to him and threw her strong arms about him. + +"Hold! Let me look. My girl? Ah, do my old eyes tell me false things? +No, it's my little Beryl!" + +Beryl took his violin from him, kissed its strings lightly and laid it +carefully upon the table. Then she pushed the startled old man back into +the one comfortable chair and perched herself upon its arm. + +"Listen, dear Jacques Henri, and I'll tell you the strangest story that +you ever heard--about Queens and gypsies and green beads and a girl you +know. Don't say _one_ word until I'm through." And Beryl told in all its +wonderful detail, the happenings of the morning. + +"And don't you see what it means? I can begin to study at _once_! Right +this minute! And, _oh_, how I'll work and practice and learn until--" + +She caught up the old man's violin and its bow and drew it across the +strings. + +"Play!" commanded Jacques Henri, without so much as a word for the +Aladdin-lamp tale she had told him. + +Beryl played and as she played she wished with all her might she could +summon the power that had been hers on Christmas night. She wanted to +play for Jacques Henri as she had played then. But she could not. + +"Stop!" + +Beryl laid the violin down. + +The old man scowled at her until she shifted nervously under his +searching eyes. + +"Your fingers--they are clever, your ear is true--but there is +nothing--of _you_--in what you play! Do you know what I mean?" + +He did not wait for Beryl to answer; he went on, with a shake of his +great head and his eyes still fixed upon her. + +"You come to me and tell me your good fortune and what you will do; how +_you_ can study and _you_ can work and _you_ can learn to make good +music--and you have no word for what that money will mean to your saint +of a mother--aye, the best woman God ever made! Shame to you, selfish +girl, that you should put your ambition before her dreams!" + +The color dyed Beryl's face. "I never thought--" she muttered, then +stopped abruptly, ashamed of her own admission. + +"No, you never thought! Do you ever think much beyond yourself?" Then, +afraid that he had spoken too harshly, he laid his hand affectionately +upon Beryl's shoulder. "But you are young, my dear, and youth is +careless. Jacques Henri knows that there is good in you--my eyes are +wise and I can see into your heart. It is an honest little heart--you +will heed in time. Ambition is a greedy thing--watch out that you keep +it in your clever head and do not let it wrap its hard sinews about your +heart, crushing all that is beautiful there. Listen to me, child; think +you that your music can reach into the souls of people if you do not +feel that music in your own good soul? Your fingers may be clever and +your body strong, but your music will be cold, cold, if the heart inside +you is a little, cold, mean thing! Many's the one, I grant you, content +to feed the passing plaudits of the crowd, but not the master--he must +go further, he must give of himself to all that they may carry something +beautiful of his gift away in their hearts. _That_ is the master. _That_ +is music." + +Beryl, always so ready in self-defense, stood mute before the old man's +charge. She had been scolded too often by this dear recluse to resent +it; she had, too, faith in anything he might say. + +Then: "You just ought to know Robin," she burst out, irrelevantly, eager +that her old teacher should believe that, even though she might be a +selfish, thoughtless girl herself, she could recognize and respect the +good qualities in others. + +"Forgive your old friend if he has hurt you. Go now to your blessed +mother and lay your good fortune at her feet. That I might see her +face!" + +"And if she wants to use--_some_ of the money, will you help me?" asked +Beryl, in a meek voice. + +"Ah, most surely. And proudly." + +Beryl rode back to Miss Erne's in a contritely humble mood. + +"I wish there were some sort of medicine one could take to make them +better inside their hearts! I wouldn't care _how_ nasty it tasted," she +mourned, impatient at the long, hard climb that must be hers if she ever +made of herself what her Jacques Henri wanted. + +All of Miss Effie's coaxing could not keep Beryl from taking the +afternoon train to Wassumsic. + +"I must tell my mother about the beads--at once!" she answered, firmly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +ROBIN'S RESCUE + + +Just as the shrill of the train whistle echoed through the little +valley, Moira Lynch set her lighted lamp in the window. She did not sing +tonight as she performed the customary ceremony, nor had she for many +nights. Her throat seemed too tired, her arms dropped with the weight of +her lamp, a dull little pain at the back of her neck gripped her with a +pulling clutch. + +The doctor had told her she was "tired out." She had gone to him very +secretly, lest Dale or big Danny should know and worry. But even to be +"just tired out" was very terrifying to Mother Moira--if her arms and +head and heart failed, who would take care of big Danny and keep a +little home for Dale and watch over Beryl? + +With her habitual optimism she tried to laugh away her alarm, but the +pulling ache persisted and her arms trembled under tasks that before had +seemed as nothing. She told herself that it was all her own fault that +her big Danny seemed harder to please, but when, under a particularly +trying moment, she broke down and cried, she knew she was reaching the +end of her endurance. + +"Did the train stop?" queried big Danny. + +"Sure and it did!" cried Mrs. Moira, trying to throw excitement into +her voice to please the invalid man. Big Danny took childish pleasure in +listening for the incoming and New York-bound trains. + +"What's keeping Dale? Prob'bly hanging 'round the Inn!" + +Mrs. Moira smothered the quick retort that sprang to her lips in defense +of her boy. + +"He'll be here any minute," she said instead, comfortingly. "There he is +now!" Her quick ear had caught a step outside. + +Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted them. Suppressed +excitement, impatience, eagerness, an inward disgust of herself for +being a "selfish thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such an +unnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression that big Danny +whirled his chair toward her and Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over her +heart. + +"Beryl?" she cried, standing quite still. + +Beryl walked to her and very quietly gathered her into her young arms. + +"Don't look so scared, Mom, dear. Oh, _don't_ cry! Why, I'm near crying +myself! After I've told you all that has happened I shall just _bawl_. +I'm too dreadfully happy. Sit down here, Mom, and hold my hand tight. +Wait--I must take my things off first." + +In a twinkling she had her stage "set" for her surprise. Strangely +stirred herself, she had to gulp once or twice before she could begin +her story. It was difficult to keep it coherent, too, because Mrs. +Moira interrupted her so often with little unnecessary questions. + +"Did you really go to New York?" + +"And 'twas all night you stayed at the Allendyces themselves?" + +Because of her mother's agitation, Beryl abandoned the details with +which she had planned to lead up to the great surprise. She plunged +abruptly to the point of the story. + +"Those beads. They _weren't_ just plain beads. They were a precious +necklace made by some queer people, ages and ages ago. _Queens_ have +worn 'em and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from hand to +hand--I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck--for all these years and +then, suddenly, no one could find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend--the +collector--gave me _this money_ outright for them and--" + +Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She stood erect, her eyes +flashing, her fingers working in and out, her lips trembling. + +"You sold my--_you sold my beads!_ Beryl Lynch, how _dared_ you. +My--my--" + +Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for sheer amazement. + +"My beads! They--were--the last--thing--I--had that +held--me--to--my--dreams." Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisper +that hurt Beryl to the soul. + +"Mother! Mother, _please_ don't. It isn't too late. I can get them +back. I didn't know you cared, don't you see?" + +Beryl of course did not know about the pulling ache at the back of +Mother Moira's neck or she would have understood that her mother's +hysteria was due partly to that. She had never seen her mother look so +queer and old and pale and it frightened her. + +Mrs. Lynch crossed the room until she stood behind Danny's chair. +Involuntarily her hand moved to his shoulder. + +"No, you wouldn't know. It isn't your fault. Of course it's just beads +they were, but they belonged to the young part of me when my heart was +that light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong that it hurt the +inside of me. And nothing in this world was too fine for the likes of my +Danny and me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking. And then +when the clouds come--" her hand pressed big Danny's shoulder ever so +lightly, "I told myself the dreams were my own and no one could _take +them_ away from me and if I couldn't make them come true, as true for +himself and me, sure, I'd keep them for my boy and girl. And 'twas the +beads were like a dear voice out of the past telling me to be strong, +for Father Murphy, with the saints in Heaven now, God rest him, gave +them to me himself with his blessing and saying might my dreams come +true! Ah, well--sure it's a punishment, maybe, for me wanting things +just for my own--" + +"Mother!" broke in Beryl, sternly. "As if you could be punished for +anything! Will you tell me one thing? Which would you rather have--those +beads--or--or--a nice little farm in the hills with a cow and chickens +and pigs and a little orchard and--and a Ford--and a girl to do the +cooking so's you could stay with Pop, and Dale studying engineering in +some college, if he wanted to, and me--" + +"Beryl Lynch, are ye crazy?" cried big Danny, suspecting that the girl +was in someway trying to mock her mother. + +"_No_, I'm not crazy, though I ought to be, with old Jacques Henri +scolding me and now mother--" She bit her lip childishly. "Will you +please just answer me, mother?" + +"A farm--with a garden--and a cow--and trees and a good stretch of the +green meadow--ah, sure I'd think it a bit of Heaven." + +"Mother, you can have it! You can have it!" Beryl rushed to and knelt by +big Danny's chair. "That's what I was trying to tell you. That man will +give you fifteen thousand dollars for those beads! Really, truly. See, +he gave me all this money today. And Mr. Allendyce will put the rest in +the bank. Oh, I know it's hard to believe but it's true. You can ask Mr. +Allendyce." + +Big Danny, with trembling hands, took the roll of bills from Beryl's +purse. They were undisputable proof of her story. + +"Moira girl, 'tis true!" Big Danny's voice trembled. + +"'Tis Father Murphy's blessing," whispered Mrs. Lynch, a strange light +in her eyes. "May I be worthy of it!" Then she roused and laughed, a +tinkling laugh. "Ah--my girl shall have her music, now! Oh, it's too +wonderful." + +"Where's Dale?" cried Beryl, her heart jubilant that the unexpected +crisis had passed. "Won't he be surprised?" + +"What ever can be keeping the boy? 'Tis long past the hour." + +"Now, mother, don't you begin a-worrying. Dale's old enough to look +after himself." + +"It's a fussing old hen I am, as true as true!" And because once more +her heart was so light inside of her that it hurt, she kissed her big +Danny on the top of his head. + +"I wish Dale would come. I ought to go back to the Manor. Harkness is +probably worrying his head off over my strange visit to New York." + +But Harkness had other things to worry about. + +Dale burst in upon his family just a few moments after Beryl had spoken +but she did not tell her story. He gave her no opportunity. + +"Gordon Forsyth's lost!" + +"_Lost?_" + +"Yes. Somewhere in the woods between Cornwall and South Falls. Strangest +thing you ever heard. She made young Tom Granger run off with +her--goodness knows where they were headed for, and when his car went +into the ditch she made a dash for the woods and that's the last +anyone's seen of her." + +"Why, Dale, she couldn't--" cried Beryl. + +"Couldn't? Easiest thing in the world. Woods are thick and miles deep +through there." + +"I mean she couldn't be running off with Tom Granger. Why, she never met +him until yesterday--" + +"Well, it wasn't exactly _with_ him but she made him, _take_ her off. +She was running away from some one. Granger's been over here talking to +Norris. They called me in. Seems Kraus had taken my model to sell to +Granger, and called it his own, and Miss Gordon heard him. And she just +walked in when they weren't in the room and--took it. Granger wouldn't +say any more. He's too worried. What I think is that Kraus chased +them--Miss Gordon and Tom Granger--" + +"How _thrilling! What_ an adventure," exclaimed Beryl, her eyes shining. +Oh, exciting things _were_ happening! + +"Thrilling! Won't be thrilling if anything's happened to the kid. It's +four hours now and Granger's had a bunch of men hunting ever since his +son walked into the office and gave the alarm. Can you give me a bite in +a hurry, Mom? The Manor car's going to take six of us over to meet young +Granger and make a thorough search." + +"But it's tired to death you look now, Dale. Can't--" + +"I'm not tired--just bothered. Mom, I hate to think of that little thing +getting into this fix just for my model. Granger was awfully decent +about the thing; told Norris he was a fool not to jump at it. He said he +had some sort of a note Miss Robin had left and it seemed to amuse him, +but he didn't offer to show it. It isn't only because she's a Forsyth I +care, but she's such a square little thing. Hurry up, please, Mom, +Williams may stop any moment." + +"_I_ ought to go up to the Manor. They must be in an awful state." + +"Wait, as soon as ever I can fix your father I'll go with you myself," +cried Mrs. Lynch. + + * * * * * + +Toward noon of the next day, in answer to an urgent telegram, Cornelius +Allendyce arrived at the Manor, having come down from New York by motor. +Just as he was gulping down the coffee Harkness had brought to him, Mr. +Granger, Senior, was ushered in. + +The men knew one another well. They shook hands, then Cornelius +Allendyce motioned him to a chair opposite him at the table. + +The lawyer only needed to look at the other man's face to know that he +brought no good news. + +"Tom telephoned from Cornwall at six o'clock. Not a sign. Not so much as +a red hair! Strangest thing I ever heard of. They're going to search +the ravines today--easy enough for her to stumble into them if she was +frightened or hurrying. Then there's the kidnapping possibility!" + +"Improbable!" protested the lawyer. + +"Well, _nothing's_ improbable. You'd have said it wasn't to be thought +of that a youngster like that would run off with that model. I want to +give you the details of this whole matter--they'd be extremely +interesting if one were not so concerned." He told of his two interviews +with Adam Kraus and of Dale's invention. "A master contrivance. I can't +understand your man, here, letting it get away from him. Why, it's worth +a lot to me, but in these Mills--well, you may not know what I think of +your mills," he laughed. "I'll tell you another time. The girl saw this +Kraus go into my office, and persuaded my boy, who'd been taking her for +a ride, to stop. She was waiting in my outer office and heard Kraus +claim the invention as his own--scoundrel that he was--and when I took +Kraus to see my head foreman, didn't she walk in, help herself to the +model and leave me this." He drew an envelope from his pocket and handed +it to Cornelius Allendyce. "Read it." + + "This model is Dale Lynch's. I am taking it to him. When I see my + guardian, I shall make him buy it for the Forsyth Mills. + + GORDON FORSYTH." + +Cornelius Allendyce looked up from the bit of paper. He had suddenly +recalled the frightened little girl he had first brought to Gray Manor. + +"Who'd believe that the child had the nerve?" + +"That's what I said. Well, she ran off with it, Kraus gave chase, Tom +headed toward Cornwall, then switched off on an unimproved road and came +to grief. Just as Kraus was about to overtake them the child ran off +into the wood. Tom didn't have the vaguest idea what it was all about, +but he tried to head off Kraus and when Kraus started for the wood he +did a little wrestling trick that surprised the fellow, got him down, +tied him in the Ford and went himself in search of Miss Gordon. When he +came back after an hour's search he found Kraus and the Ford gone and he +walked back to South Falls. That's all." + +"That model may be worth a lot, but it is not worth another tragedy to +this house," groaned Cornelius Allendyce. + +"No. It is worth a good deal--but not--that much." + +A few moments' deep silence prevailed. Wrinkles of worry twisted the +lawyer's face. What a mess it all was, anyway--he had urged Robin to go +to the Granger's in hopes that she'd bring the two families into close +intimacy again and instead of that she had gotten herself into this fix. +If they found her safe and sound she ought to be spanked and taught to +keep her hands off the Mill affairs until she was older. But down in +his heart he knew this was only a vexatious expression of his +concern--you couldn't punish Robin for anything. + +"As her guardian I appreciate your alarm. I share it with you, not alone +because Miss Forsyth was a guest at my house but because I took a great +fancy to the child. It struck me, as I looked at her, that her coming to +Wassumsic--to the Manor, might change things, here, quite a bit." + +"It has--it will," mumbled Mr. Allendyce. For a moment, just to relieve +his feelings, he wondered if he might not confide in this very human man +the ordeal he must face with Madame Forsyth when his reckoning came. + +"My wife is prostrated with it all. She does not know the particulars +but she is deeply concerned. I do not like to add to your worry but do +you think there is any possibility that the child returned to the road, +and that Kraus, freed from Tom's rope, captured her and went off with +her?" + +"Why, every possibility in the world!" shouted Robin's guardian. "Why +did you hug that idea to yourself? We'll telephone the New York police. +He's sure to make straight for the city." + +Both men welcomed action. They rushed to the library and put in a long +distance call and then, while waiting, paced the room's length back and +forth. Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued his ear to the +crack in the door, hopeful for one crumb of comforting news. + +Below stairs Mrs. Budge, flatly refusing to believe that "Miss Robin" +could be lost just when she had learned to love her, beat up a cake for +her homecoming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into the batter. + +In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, who did not even have +the heart to play with Susy, sat with her nose against the window +watching the ribbon of road over which anyone would come if they came. +That was why she was the first of the Manor household to spy the +dilapidated Ford approaching, snorting up the incline. Something about +it made her think of the general dilapidation of the Forgotten Village. +It might be some word! She rushed down the stairs, two steps at a time, +past the startled Harkness, through the big front door. The +strange-looking car had turned into the Manor gate. A man with long +white whiskers was driving it. And yes, a bareheaded girl, who looked +like Robin, sat on the back seat. It _was_ Robin. Beryl waved her hand +wildly and Robin answered. But who rode with her? Beryl's flying feet +came to a quick halt. + +"As sure as I'm _alive_ it's the Queen of Altruria!" + +Turning, Beryl rushed back to the Manor. + +"Harkness! _Harkness!_" she cried, bursting in through the door. +"Robin's coming! She's _here!_ And she's brought the Queen of Altruria +with her! Oh, _what'll_ we do?" For surely some ceremony befitting +royalty should be prepared. + +"The Queen of _what_--" cried Mr. Granger and Cornelius Allendyce +rushing from the library. "Oh, the girl's _crazy_--" asserted the +lawyer. Nevertheless he ran to the door, followed by Mr. Granger and +Harkness and Beryl and Hannah Budge and Chloe, who had heard Beryl's +glad cry in the kitchen. + +At close range the dilapidated Ford looked even more dilapidated; Robin, +letting her royal companion talk terms of payment with the bewhiskered +scion of the Forgotten Village, clambered out the moment the car stopped +and fell into Beryl's arms. From their shelter, after the briefest +instant, she lifted her face to greet her guardian and found him staring +at the Queen in a sort of stupid unbelief. + +"I brought--" Robin started an introduction, but did not finish. For, +recovering, with an obvious effort, his natural manner of politeness, +her guardian was hurrying down the steps to the little car. + +"Madame Forsyth, I did not expect--" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME + + +"No. I judge from all your faces no one expected me!" exclaimed Madame +Forsyth coldly, extending to Cornelius Allendyce the tips of her +fingers. "Harkness, you look as though you were seeing a ghost!" + +Her rebuking words had the effect of galvanizing poor Harkness' limbs to +action--but not his tongue. Though he hobbled down the steps and took +the bag from the lawyer's hand, not a word could he speak from sheer +stupefaction. + +And Hannah Budge so forgot her long years of loyalty to the House of +Forsyth as to cry out--"Oh, Miss Robin!" before so much as one word of +greeting for Madame Forsyth. + +"You could 'a clean knocked me over," she explained to Harkness +afterward, "Our Madame going away as fine as you please with that +baggage of a Florrie who was as full of tricks as a cat after a mouse, +and coming back in that old car that had moss on it, I do believe, and +with Miss Robin, too, who they all thought was lost though _I_ knew +better. Something _told_ me to beat up that cake yesterday!" + +"And Miss Robin didn't know Madame was Madame," explained Harkness, his +face perplexed. "She and Miss Beryl here've been thinking she was some +mysterious lydy or other--Williams says they got it in their little +heads she was a Queen hiding--" + +"Madame hiding _where_?" snorted Budge. + +"Well, _I_ can't make nothing out of it. My head goes 'round in a circle +like. Only Williams says that lydy must be the lydy the young lydies +visited, mysterious like, just afore Christmas and the lydy's our Madame +all right and that's what I say my head goes 'round in a circle!" + +"Your tongue, too, Timothy Harkness. Well, there's lots going to happen +now, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. First thing, I s'pose, she'll clear +that Castle young 'un out of the house and then your Miss Beryl. And +mebbe send Miss Robin off to school somewheres to get these common +notions out o' her little head. You say they're all talking upstairs +now?" + +"Only Madame and the lawyer man. Mr. Granger's gone down to the Mills to +send word to his home that Miss Robin's found." + +"Saints be praised!" murmured Mrs. Budge, devoutly. + +Up in her little sitting-room Robin and Beryl sat arm in arm, and Robin +told Beryl the whole story of her adventure. On the window seat beside +them lay the square box containing Dale's model. + +"I just ran, Beryl, as fast as I could and _anywhere_. I was so +frightened I didn't stop to look. I fell down twice and the second time +I was so tired I could scarcely get up. But I had to. And then I thought +I'd found a path, and I followed it, but it stopped at a ravine that +was, _oh_, so deep. Well, I knew I was lost. I called and called and no +one answered. And I heard all sorts of queer noises as though there +might be wild beasts. One came very close, I'm sure, though I couldn't +see it. And I was dreadfully hungry. I sat down on a log and cried, +too--my feet ached so and my arms ached so from carrying this box. I +decided to bury it and leave a note telling about it, for, honestly, +Beryl, I didn't think then I'd live an hour longer, but I didn't have a +pencil and when I started to dig with my hands the ground was so gooy +that I couldn't bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it." She shuddered and +Beryl held her hands tighter. "And it began to get dark. I tried to be +brave and say nothing could hurt me, but I couldn't help but hear the +funny noises and I was so _awfully_ alone. I started to walk again, just +somewhere, because when I walked I couldn't hear all the sounds and +every now and then I'd call out. And just as it was almost pitch dark in +the wood something big came rushing toward me and sprang at me and, +Beryl, I fainted dead away! Well, the next thing I knew something was +licking my face. And someone was saying something queer, and Beryl, it +was Caesar and that Brina from our House of Rushing Water! Caesar had +heard me call and found me, and then he had barked and howled until +Brina came with a lantern." + +Beryl jumped up and down in excitement. + +"What happened then?" she cried. + +"Brina carried me--and that box--to the house in the wood. It seemed I'd +gotten most to it and didn't know it. And the Queen was awfully +frightened. But she wouldn't let me say a word; she made Brina put me in +her bed and she covered me with blankets and she fed me herself, +something hot and oh, so good. And she kept petting me and cuddling me +for I guess I shook like a leaf. You see, I couldn't _believe_ I was +safe and sound; I kept seeing that dog jump at me! And finally she sang +to me, the nicest old-fashioned song and I went to sleep, and I never +opened my eyes until this morning, and there she stood by my bed with a +tray of nice breakfast. She wouldn't let me tell her how I got lost +until I'd eaten every crumb. And then I felt so cosy and warm and safe +that I told her everything--_everything_, all about Mother Lynch and how +my plans for the House of Laughter had failed at first, and then the +Rileys and what I thought of the Mills, and how horrid Mr. Norris was +and about Susy and poor Granny and Dale's model, and then what I'd done +at Grangers'. I just got started and I couldn't stop. And Beryl, I told +her _again_ how my aunt was an unhappy old woman who worried over her +own troubles so much that she didn't have time for other people's. +Wasn't that dreadful?" And Robin caught up a pillow and buried her face +in it. + +Beryl looked troubled. + +"Yes, that _was_ dreadful. What ever did she say?" + +"She didn't say anything. She picked up my tray and went out, and I felt +the way I had that other time, all fussed, because I'd bothered a Queen +with my silly affairs. And I could have sworn then she was a Queen, +Beryl, she had such a dignified way of being sweet and she smelled so +nice and perfumy--a different perfume. And that Brina had put the +gorgeousest nightgown on me, too." + +"When did you first know the Queen was your aunt?" Beryl broke in. + +"Beryl Lynch, on my honor, not until my guardian called her Madame +Forsyth! After she took my tray out she came back, and she did look sort +of funny, now I remember, the way one does when one decides suddenly to +do something you hadn't dreamed of doing, and she told me Brina had gone +into the village to hunt up some sort of a vehicle to get me back to the +Manor. And I didn't think until the last moment that she meant to come, +too. And all the way over I was nearly bursting thinking how surprised +you'd be and what fun it would be to have the Queen visit us. Oh, dear!" +And Robin drew a long breath, half sigh. + +"Well, something'll happen _now_," groaned Beryl, in much the same tone +Budge had used. "When she finds out about Susy and me!" + +And below in the library the same thought held Robin's +guardian--something must happen, now. + +He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth freshened herself after +her long ride. And while he waited, in considerable apprehension, he +planned the course he would follow; if Madame refused to accept little +Red-Robin as her heir, because she was a girl and _different_, why, he'd +take her back with him to his own home. She could live with him and his +sister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt her if Jimmie would +let him. And he'd take Beryl, too, if Robin wished--and he'd see Susy +was put with some nice family. + +But where in the world had Robin found her aunt--or her aunt found +Robin. Everyone acted as though they were knocked stupid by the +mystery--no one had offered a word of explanation. He rubbed his +forehead as though it might have circles, too. + +"Which shall we hear first?" a voice asked behind him, "How _you_ +happened to bring little Robin here--or how _I_ did?" + +The words startled him more because of their tone than their +unexpectedness. And turning, he saw (to his immense relief) that Madame +Forsyth was smiling--and in her eyes was a softened look, though they +were shadowed with fatigue. + +"I am immensely curious, I must admit, as to where you found Robin, but +I feel that I owe you the first explanation." + +He told then, of his first visit to Patchin Place and of his finding +little Robin in her curious surroundings. + +"I really cannot say just what put the notion in my head of taking her +to the Manor--I think it was something appealing about the child." + +"You are more honest to admit that than I expected, Cornelius Allendyce. +Your silence in regard to her being a girl might seem inexcusable to me +only that I am glad, now, that you kept silence. For I would have most +certainly, then, sent her back. And--I am glad that never happened. You +see _I_ can be honest, too." + +"Before I can explain my finding the child in this last plight of hers I +must tell you a little of my 'wanderings' since I left the Manor. They +were not far. I went to New York and reserved passage on a steamer +sailing for the Mediterranean the next week. That evening I saw the 'for +sale' notice of a house in the Connecticut woods, which advertised +absolute seclusion. I telephoned to my banker, who has been in my +confidence, and he made a hurried trip to Brown's Mill and bought the +house, just as it stood. The next day I discharged Florrie, cancelled my +sailing reservations, picked up a strong German woman for a cook, bought +a dog and rode out to my new home. It offered all that I had hoped it +would. There I planned to find a change that would be a rest, to forget +the world about me and live in my past, which was all I had. And for +several weeks I did--until two girls broke in upon my precious privacy." + +She told of Robin and Beryl's first visit and then of their second, and +of the gifts they brought from the Manor. + +"I confess it was a shock to me to discover that this child was--Gordon +Forsyth. Yet it was the shock I needed to rouse me from my depression. +For, like you, I fell quickly under the girl's charm. From that day on I +found I could not hold my thoughts to my past--in spite of me they +persisted in dwelling upon the present--and the future. You see I am +frank with you." + +Cornelius Allendyce nodded. He dared not speak for he did not want to +betray the relief he felt. + +"I do not think I would have returned to the Manor for several weeks +yet, for my health has singularly benefited by my--unusual change, +except that this escapade of Robin's made me feel that I was needed +here. Something she said made up my mind for me, rather quickly. +Cornelius Allendyce--that child has a great gift. It is the gift of +giving. An unusual talent in the Forsyth family, you are thinking! But +like all talents it ought to be trained and directed and strengthened +and my work is--to do it. I had thought my life lived--but it is not, +and I am happy to have found it so. I am too old, perhaps, to learn the +new ways but I am not too old to safeguard them." + +"You are a wonderful old woman," the lawyer answered, quite +involuntarily and with such instant alarm at his audacity that Madame +Forsyth smiled. + +"Oh, no. I am not wonderful at all. I am revealing my heart to you, now, +in a way I do not often open it, but I shall, to my last day, probably, +be a proud, overbearing old woman with a sharp tongue. You, however, +will know what is underneath." + +There was a moment's silence, then Madame Forsyth told him of Caesar's +finding Robin in the woods and giving the alarm. + +"The child was utterly exhausted. I cannot bear to think of what might +have happened if we--had not been living there. Thank God we found her. +May I summon the girls? I am curious to see more of this rather unusual +young person my niece has attached to my household." + +Then the lawyer remembered Beryl's great good fortune and that nothing +had been said concerning that. How happy Robin would be! + +In answer to Madame's summons Robin and Beryl came to the library, +nervously sedate in manner and with fingers intertwined in a close grip. + +Madame beckoned to them with her jeweled white hand. + +"Come to me, Robin. Are you sorry to find that your mysterious friend +by the Rushing Waters--is your aunt?" + +Robin advanced slowly, her eyes on her aunt's face. + +"No, oh, no! Only--maybe _you're_ sorry about--_me_--being a girl and +such a small one--and lame, too--" + +"Oh, my _dear_!" And Madame Forsyth held out her arms impulsively and +Robin, her face aglow, snuggled into them. + +Every moment of that day something exciting and significant seemed to +happen. Ever so many people called, and it was fun to see their surprise +at finding Madame home. Aunt Mathilde, (Robin could not make the name +sound natural) upon introduction, had acted as though she almost liked +Susy, and Susy had looked very cunning in the new dress the nurse had +made for her. And she hadn't said Susy would have to go! Then Robin flew +off, the very first moment, with Beryl to find Mrs. Lynch and _hug_ her +over the wonderful fortune and talk about the farm which must be very +near Wassumsic. Then Beryl played for Aunt Mathilde and Aunt Mathilde +had looked as though she "felt funny inside!" + +And then Dale had come with Tom Granger, both of them looking haggard +from anxiety and lack of sleep. They came in while Beryl was playing. +Robin was glad of that for it gave her a moment to think what she must +say to Tom Granger in explanation. + +She did not need to say anything, however. Tom knew the whole story, +from his father and from Dale. He and Dale had become fast friends. + +He caught Robin's hand and pumped her small arm until it ached. + +"I had to see you to believe you'd turned up," he laughed. "You +certainly gave us a scare we won't forget in a hurry! But you're a good +little sport and I'm coming around, if I may, to take you for a +ride--before I have to go back to school." + +"Well, I never want to go _fast_ again in my life," cried Robin, +coloring under the meaning glance Beryl shot at her. + +Dale greeted her more shyly, and because Madame Forsyth and Cornelius +Allendyce were talking to Tom, and Beryl had eyes and ears only for the +nice-looking lad, no one overheard what passed between them. + +"Miss Robin, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happened +to you! You should not have taken such a risk--just for my model." + +Robin looked at Dale with shining eyes. Would she tell him of her +"pretend?" + +"_You_ saved _my_ life once," she exclaimed, impulsively. + +"_I_ did!" + +"Yes--a long time ago. I was hunting in a little park in New York for +my doll that I'd left there and you found me, crying. And you took me +home--to Patchin Place. I guess maybe you forgot, because you were big +and I was a little bit of a thing!" + +Dale stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. + +"Why, of _course_--I remember now. You _were_ a little bit of a thing, +with blue eyes and a blue tam. You asked me what a Ma was! Yes, I'd +clean forgotten." He sobered suddenly, and Robin knew it was because he +remembered _why_ he had forgotten. His father had been hurt that +evening. + +He looked very big now and very much grown up and Robin wondered, with a +wild confusion sending her blood tingling to her face, would he remember +that she had kissed him and called him her Prince? She watched him, +trembling. But no, he did not remember! + +"Well, you've more than repaid me for _that_ little thing," he said. +"Someone else would have found you if I hadn't. And please promise, Miss +Robin, you won't take any more chances for me!" + +So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in her heart--not to be +forgotten, but to be enjoyed, as a big-little girl enjoys taking out +childish toys or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressing +them tenderly, putting them back reverently--and feeling tremendously +grown-up! + + * * * * * + +A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down upon two heads close together +at a wide-open window. The one was dark and the other red. And the same +young moon audaciously winked at the whispered confidences exchanged in +the brooding quiet of the night. + +"Oh, Robin, doesn't it seem an _age_ since you went off to +Granger's?----So much has happened. I don't feel like the same +girl----Tom Granger's awfully nice looking----his eyes are _blue_, +Robin----oh, I won't let myself _think_ of going to New York until +Mom and Pop are settled somewhere away from the Mills----Robin, you're +so _quiet_----I should think you'd be bursting--" + +"I'm glad my aunt was nice to Susy and your mother and--Dale. Beryl, +she's going to make Norris take that invention----" + +"Well, I never dreamed that old toy really amounted to anything--" + +"---- ---- ---- ----" + +"Beryl, don't you love the stars? _You're_ quiet now----" + +Beryl giggled. + +"Robin--I just remembered! Do you realize we gave our--Queen--_her own +book for Christmas_?" + +"Beryl, as _sure_ as anything! Oh, how funny!" + + + + +EPILOGUE + +A STORY AFTER THE STORY + + +In a hammock hung between two leafing apple trees, a woman lay, so very +still that she seemed sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliage +over her head, now and then showering her with pink petals from the +lingering blossoms; from beneath her rose the damp sweet fragrance of +soft earth and green grass, nearby a meadow-lark sang plaintively; +somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate in the nest; from the +valley, stretching below the sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted. + +A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining woman and her eyes +stared through the lacy canopy of green into the blue sky, where fleecy +clouds sailed off to the west and south. + +A lingering echo went singing through her heart. "It is all yours, Moira +Lynch! It is all yours!" The beauty around her--the promise of spring, +the green of orchard and meadow and distant hill, the rest, the +contentment--the happiness, and oh, most precious, the fulfilment. + +There was never a day now, in Mother Moira's life, so busy that she +could not snatch a moment to go over, in reverent appreciation, the +blessings that were hers. And no longer were her dreams--for nothing +could change the dreaming heart of the little woman--for herself or +even for her big Danny; they were for her fine lad, a man now, and +Beryl, working so earnestly for her ambition, and little Robin, who +would always _be_ little Robin, and the imp of a Susy, ruddy cheeked and +happy-hearted. + +How long, long ago seemed those days when, a slip of a girl, she had +dreamed on that other hillside of a future that would be hers; how +dazzling had been the pictures she had fancied; how much she had dared +to ask. In her youthful bravado she had laughed at Destiny and had made +so bold as to declare Destiny might even then be weaving a bit of gold +into the drab fabric of her life. + +(Faith, was not little Robin her bit of gold? Had not the wonderful +change begun in their lives after little Robin came to the Manor?) + +Five years had passed, since she and her big Danny had moved from the +village to the little farm that was "just around the corner." During +them she and big Danny had been alone a great deal of the time, +excepting for little Susy; for Dale and Beryl, after settling them +snugly in the old-fashioned farmhouse, (painted as white as white with a +new barn for the gentle-eyed cow, and a pen for the pigs, and a trim +little run-way for the chickens) had gone away, Dale to an engineering +college, Beryl to live with Miss Allendyce and take her precious violin +lessons, and lessons in languages and science. But Mother Moira was +never lonesome, for mere miles could not separate a heart like hers +from those she loved! + +There had been significant changes in the village for her to watch +develop. The old Mill cottages had been torn down and across the river +had been built a cluster of white houses, each with its own yard "going +right around it," and trees and a bit of garden. There was a new school +house, too, and a new corps of teachers, and a hospital and a library. +Robin and her aunt had opened this only a month before. + +And the House of Laughter had been enlarged to meet the increasing +demands upon it; there were rooms for the girls' clubs and the boys' +clubs, and a billiard room and a bowling alley, and an athletic field +with a basketball court and a baseball diamond. + +(Sir Galahad in his scarlet coat still hung over the mantel which +Williams had built. Robin would not let anyone change that.) + +Mrs. Riley lived in the upper floor of the House of Laughter and took +care of it. + +The Manor car, with Madame Forsyth, passed often now through the streets +of the village and from it Madame nodded pleasantly to this person and +that, stopping sometimes to ask one Mill mother concerning her sick +child, another of her husband--and another whether she had finished the +knit bed-spread upon which Madame had found her working one afternoon +when she had called. Madame had herself regularly visited the new Mill +houses during the process of construction and took delight in dropping +in upon the newly organized school while classes were in session. + +"I'll be the same proud, overbearing old lady," she had told her lawyer, +but she had been mistaken--she could never be quite that again, for she +had found too much pure delight in doing the little things Robin quite +artlessly suggested--little things which had not been easy at first and +which had seemed to demand too great a sacrifice of her pride. + +The passing of time for the three at the Manor, Madame, Mrs. Budge and +Harkness, was marked, Mother Lynch well knew, by Robin's coming and +going. For, when her Jimmie had returned from southern seas, Robin had +insisted upon going straight to him, and it was not until her aunt had +laid aside the last shred of her old prejudice and invited Robin's +father to the Manor for a long visit that Robin had consented to look +upon the Manor as her "home," though, even then, she steadfastly +asserted "part" of her time must be spent with Jimmie. + +While at the Manor James Forsyth had painted his "Wood Sprite," which +won for him quick and wide recognition, and ever afterward Robin and +Madame Forsyth referred to it as "our picture." + +No, Mother Moira was never lonesome. + +A gay voice roused her now from her happy reverie, footsteps rustled the +grass, cool hands, with a touch as light as the blowing petals, closed +over her eyes. + +"Dreaming again, little Mom? You're incurable!" And Beryl, with a laugh, +dropped upon the ground close to the hammock, one hand closing over her +mother's. + +"It's a bit of a cat-nap I'm stealing," fibbed Mother Moira, blushing +like a girl. Her eyes lingered adoringly on the glowing, flushed face +close to hers. "Where have you been, Beryl?" + +"Susy coaxed me off to her fairy spring. It's really a lovely little +nook she's found and she's made a doll's house in the hollow of an old +tree. She's a funny little thing--almost elfin, isn't she? Are you sure +she isn't too much trouble for you and Dad, Mother?" + +"Trouble? Bless the little heart of the colleen, it's something +happening every minute for it's an imp of mischief she is, but, Beryl, I +like it. It keeps my own heart young." + +"As though your heart would ever grow old! You're like Robin. Oh, +mother, you can't _know_ how lonesome I've been over there in Milan for +the sight of you and this little place. I think my soul, the one poor +dear Jacques Henri tried to find in me and didn't--wakened one night +when I actually cried myself to sleep just longing to feel your arms +around me! Oh, when one has a mother and a home like mine to want to +come to, it ought to be _easy_ to keep beautiful inside, the way the +dear man said!" And Beryl, staring thoughtfully out over the valley, +did not see the glow that transformed her mother's face. + +A shrill whistle from the Mills echoed and reechoed through the valley. +Beryl turned her head suddenly and laid her cheek against the palm of +her mother's hand. + +"Mother, I saw a lot of Tom Granger when I was in Paris." + +Mother Moira started ever so slightly, with the barest twitching of the +hand Beryl's cheek touched. + +"He was very nice to me. Mother, are he and--and Robin--awfully good +friends?" + +"What's in your heart, my girl?" + +"Mom, couldn't Robin marry almost _anybody_? She's such a dear and she's +so rich and she's travelled around so much." + +"Why, bless the heart of her, she's nothing but a child!" + +"Mother!" Beryl's voice rang impatiently. "We'll just _never_ grow up in +your eyes! Why, Robin's twenty. Well, I should think _anyone'd_ like Tom +Granger." + +"Oh, my dear!" And Mother Moira, reading the girl's heart with her wise +mother-eyes, gave a tiny sigh. Must the shadow of a heartache touch the +splendid friendship between these two, Beryl and Robin? + +The thought lingered with her while she watched the girls come hand in +hand out to the orchard from the drive where Robin had left her +roadster. Beryl had only been home for three days and Robin came out to +the farm at every opportunity. + +Her girls--her tall, handsome Beryl with the strong shoulders and the +free swing of her, and little Robin, with her deep blue eyes and her +tender lips and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her walk +the appearance of eagerness. + +There was still so much to talk about that the two girls lingered under +the trees while Mother Moira swung gently and listened and watched the +dear young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a weekend at a duke's +house; Robin had spent a month in the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie; +Dale had brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from an +expedition he had made with an engineering gang into the fastnesses of +South America, and Beryl had been asked to tour in the fall with the +Cincinnati Symphony and was going to accept. Their chatter came back +then to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the library and the new +teachers, who were Smith College graduates, and Sophie Mack who had +started a Girl Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House of +Laughter. + +"Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and Dale coming!" cried +Mother Moira, springing to quick life. + +"And Dale has a wonderful secret to tell, too," laughed Robin, her eyes +shining. + +Beryl looked at her friend curiously--Robin had the "all-tight-inside" +look that Beryl remembered from the old days at the Manor. + +"Do you know the secret?" she asked. + +Robin's face flushed rose-red. "Y-yes. But I promised Dale I wouldn't +tell. We both want to see your mother's face--when she hears it." + +"Well, I think you're mean to have a secret with Dale that _I_ don't +know!" cried Beryl, with real indignation. "Is it something that's going +to make Mom lots happier?" + +"I--hope--so!" And to hide the tell-tale rose on her face Robin threw +her arms around Mother Moira and kissed her. + +"Faith, is it any happier I could be without my heart just breaking?" + +Dale came and they all, big Danny in his wheel chair, ate supper on the +broad porch where they could enjoy the sunset. Beryl watched her brother +with admiring eyes--he had grown so strong and big and good-looking, his +nice-fitting clothes set off his broad shoulders so well, his voice had +such a ring of confidence. + +"I've been offered the management of the Forsyth Mills," he announced +suddenly. + +Then _that_ was the secret! + +"Really, truly?" exclaimed Beryl. + +"And will ye take it, my boy?" asked big Danny, a note of pride +deepening his voice. + +"My boy a manager!" trilled Mother Moira. + +"Yes. I'll take it. I made one condition with Madame Forsyth--and she +granted it." And Dale flashed a look across to Robin. Everyone followed +his glance and everyone read the truth in Robin's face. + +"Robin Forsyth--and you never breathed a _word_!" cried Beryl, not +knowing for the moment whether to give way to great joy or indignation +that her friend had not confided in her. + +With a quick little motion, Robin had slipped to Mother Lynch's chair +and, kneeling beside it, she buried her face against the woman's heart. + +"I didn't know--myself," came in muffled tones from the embrace. + +"Are you happy, mother?" asked Dale, boyishly. + +"Ah, I did not know I could be happier--but, I am!" And Mother Moira +smiled through the tears that brimmed in her eyes. + +Beryl, staring at her mother and brother and her friend, suddenly gave +voice to a thought that had come with such significance as to sweep away +her girlish reserve. + +"Then it _isn't_ Tom Granger at all! You don't care a _bit_ about him?" + +Robin's face lifted. "About Tom? Oh, goodness me, no. Why, he isn't +worth Dale's little _finger_--Beryl Lynch, why do you ask me that?" + +"Oh--nothing. Really, truly--" And Beryl escaped into the house. + + * * * * * + +Robin drove Dale back to the village. At the turn of the road near the +House of Laughter she stopped the car that they might enjoy for a moment +the twilight glow of the valley. Lights twinkled from the Mill houses +across the river. From the House of Laughter came the sound of singing. +A young crescent of a moon shone silvery against a purple blue sky. + +"Little Red-Robin," cried Dale, suddenly, "Are you very sure?" + +"Sure--of what?" Robin asked in a voice that trembled in spite of her. + +"Someday you will be a rich girl. I am a--working-man. What will the +world say? They may laugh at you!" + +Robin's chin lifted. Had she ever reckoned her gifts in dollars and +cents? + +"But you're my Prince!" she protested, proudly. "Don't you remember? +That night, a long, long time ago, when you took me home, I called +you--my Prince. You said, then, you couldn't stay with me--that I'd have +to find you. Well," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I have." + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +"The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay" + +THERE ARE TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING-- + +--including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When +you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected +list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent +writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & +Dunlap book wrapper. + +You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for +every mood and every taste and every pocketbook. + +_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to +the publishers for a complete catalog._ + +_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste_ + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JANE ABBOTT'S STORIES FOR GIRLS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +Mrs. Abbott holds a unique place among the writers of fiction for young +girls. Her charming stories possess those same qualities of optimism and +high ideals for humanity that made the books of Louisa May Alcott so +popular. She never fails to create an atmosphere of happiness and the +spirit of Youth and Spring. + +RED ROBIN + In Robin Forsyth Mrs. Abbott has added a new and charming member to + the happy collection of young girls who have enlivened the pages of + her stories. + +APRILLY + A charming story of a young girl and of the adventures which lead her + to her goal of happiness. The book is filled with that joyous spirit + of youth and spring that the title suggests. + +HIGHACRES + A school story for girls full of vitality and enthusiasm. There is a + real plot and the girls introduced are sure to be interesting to the + reader. + +KEINETH + Keineth is a life creation--within its covers the actual spirit of + youth. The book is of special interest to girls, but when a grown-up + gets hold of it there follows a one-session under the reading lamp + with "finis" at the end. + +LARKSPUR + Especially interesting to any Girl Scout because it is the story of a + Girl Scout who is poor and has to help her mother. + +HAPPY HOUSE + The delightful story of two American girls, Ann and Nancy. They heal + the old family quarrel and the old homestead becomes a happy house. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE NOVELS OF TEMPLE BAILEY +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE BLUE WINDOW + The heroine, Hildegarde, finds herself transplanted from the middle + western farm to the gay social whirl of the East. She is almost swept + off her feet, but in the end she proves true blue. + +PEACOCK FEATHERS + The eternal conflict between wealth and love. Jerry, the idealist who + is poor, loves Mimi, a beautiful, spoiled society girl. + +THE DIM LANTERN + The romance of little Jane Barnes who is loved by two men. + +THE GAY COCKADE + Unusual short stories where Miss Bailey shows her keen knowledge of + character and environment, and how romance comes to different people. + +THE TRUMPETER SWAN + Randy Paine comes back from France to the monotony of every-day + affairs. But the girl he loves shows him the beauty in the common + place. + +THE TIN SOLDIER + A man who wishes to serve his country, but is bound by a tie he cannot + in honor break--that's Derry. A girl who loves him, shares his + humiliation and helps him to win--that's Jean. Their love is the + story. + +MISTRESS ANNE + A girl in Maryland teaches school, and believes that work is worthy + service. Two men come to the little community; one is weak, the other + strong, and both need Anne. + +CONTRARY MARY + An old-fashioned love story that is nevertheless modern. + +GLORY OF YOUTH + A novel that deals with a question, old and yet ever new--how far + should an engagement of marriage bind two persons who discover they no + longer love. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +MARGARET PEDLER'S NOVELS + May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +TO-MORROW'S TANGLE + The game of love is fraught with danger. To win in the finest sense, + it must be played fairly. + +RED ASHES + A gripping story of a doctor who failed in a crucial operation--and + had only himself to blame. Could the woman he loved forgive him? + +THE BARBARIAN LOVER + A love story based on the creed that the only important things + between birth and death are the courage to face life and the love to + sweeten it. + +THE MOON OUT OF REACH + Nan Davenant's problem is one that many a girl has faced--her own + happiness or her father's bond. + +THE HOUSE OF DREAMS-COME-TRUE + How a man and a woman fulfilled a Gypsy's strange prophecy. + +THE HERMIT OF FAR END + How love made its way into a walled-in house and a walled-in heart. + +THE LAMP OF FATE + The story of a woman who tried to take all and give nothing. + +THE SPLENDID FOLLY + Do you believe that husbands and wives should have no secrets from + each other? + +THE VISION OF DESIRE + An absorbing romance written with all that sense of feminine tenderness + that has given the novels of Margaret Pedler their universal appeal. + +WAVES OF DESTINY + Each of these stories has the sharp impact of an emotional crisis--the + compressed quality of one of Margaret Pedler's widely popular novels. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +THE NOVELS OF GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + A NEW NAME + ARIEL CUSTER + BEST MAN, THE + CITY OF FIRE, THE + CLOUDY JEWEL + DAWN OF THE MORNING + ENCHANTED BARN, THE + EXIT BETTY + FINDING OF JASPER HOLT, THE + GIRL FROM MONTANA, THE + LO, MICHAEL! + MAN OF THE DESERT, THE + MARCIA SCHUYLER + MIRANDA + MYSTERY OF MARY, THE + NOT UNDER THE LAW + PHOEBE DEANE + RE-CREATIONS + RED SIGNAL, THE + SEARCH, THE + STORY OF A WHIM, THE + TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME + TRYST, THE + VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS, A + WITNESS, THE + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + THE MIDLANDER + THE FASCINATING STRANGER + GENTLE JULIA + ALICE ADAMS + RAMSEY MILHOLLAND + THE GUEST OF QUESNAY + THE TWO VAN REVELS + THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS + MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE + SEVENTEEN + PENROD + PENROD AND SAM + THE TURMOIL + THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA + THE FLIRT + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. + The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful + story of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. + +JOSSELYN'S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + The story of a beautiful woman who fought a bitter fight for happiness + and love. + +MARTIE, THE UNCONQUERED. Illustrated by Charles E. Chambers. + The triumph of a dauntless spirit over adverse conditions. + +THE HEART OF RACHAEL. Frontispiece by Charles E. Chambers. + An interesting story of divorce and the problems that come with a + second marriage. + +THE STORY OF JULIA PAGE. Frontispiece by C. Allan Gilbert. + A sympathetic portrayal of the quest of a normal girl, obscure and + lonely, for the happiness of life. + +SATURDAY'S CHILD. Frontispiece by E. Graham Cootes. + Can a girl, born in rather sordid conditions, lift herself through + sheer determination to the better things for which her soul hungered? + +MOTHER. Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + A story of the big mother heart that beats in the background of + every girl's life, and some dreams which come true. + +_Ask for Complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + +THE KEEPER OF THE BEES + A gripping human novel everyone in your family will want to read. + +THE WHITE FLAG + How a young girl, singlehanded, fought against the power of the + Morelands who held the town of Ashwater in their grip. + +HER FATHER'S DAUGHTER + The story of such a healthy, level-headed, balanced young woman + that it's a delightful experience to know her. + +A DAUGHTER OF THE LAND + In which Kate Bates fights for her freedom against long odds, + renouncing the easy path of luxury. + +FRECKLES + A story of love in the limberlost that leaves a warm feeling about + the heart. + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST + The sheer beauty of a girl's soul and the rich beauties of the + out-of-doors are in the pages of this book. + +THE HARVESTER + The romance of a strong man and of Nature's fields and woods. + +LADDIE + Full of the charm of this author's "wild woods magic." + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW + A story of friendship and love out-of-doors. + +MICHAEL O'HALLORAN + A wholesome, humorous, tender love story. + +THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL + The love idyl of the Cardinal and his mate, told with rare delicacy + and humor. + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD'S STORIES OF ADVENTURE +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list + + THE ANCIENT HIGHWAY + A GENTLEMAN OF COURAGE + THE ALASKAN + THE COUNTRY BEYOND + THE FLAMING FOREST + THE VALLEY OF SILENT MEN + THE RIVER'S END + THE GOLDEN SNARE + NOMADS OF THE NORTH + KAZAN + BAREE, SON OF KAZAN + THE COURAGE OF CAPTAIN PLUM + THE DANGER TRAIL + THE HUNTED WOMAN + THE FLOWER OF THE NORTH + THE GRIZZLY KING + ISOBEL + THE WOLF HUNTERS + THE GOLD HUNTERS + THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE + BACK TO GOD'S COUNTRY + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Transcriber's Notes + +1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. +2. 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