RED-ROBINBYJANE ABBOTT

AUTHOR OF KEINETH, HIGHACRES, APRILLY, Etc. 

With Illustrations ByHARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS

GROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS 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 204XVIII. The Luckless Stocking 220 XIX. Granny 235 XX. Robin's Beginning 250 XXI. At the Granger Mills 266 XXII. The Green Beads 279XXIII. Robin's Rescue 292 XXIV. Madame Forsyth Comes Home 305 Epilogue--A Story After the Story 318

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE

The Effect Was Very Christmasy FrontispieceThe 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 thatshe might not, by the slightest quiver, disturb the beauty that wasabout her. There was so very, very _much_ beauty--the sky, azure blueoverhead and paling where it touched the green-fringed earth; thewhispering tree under which she lay, the lush meadow grass, moving likewaves of a sea, the bird nesting above her, everything--

And Moira O'Donnell, who had never been farther than the boundaries ofher county, knew the whole world was beautiful, too. 

Behind her, hid in a hollow, stood the small cottage where, at that verymoment, her grandmother was preparing the evening meal. And, beyond, inthe village was the little old stone church and Father Murphy's squarebit of a house with its wide doorstep and its roof of thatch, and WidowMulligan's and the Denny's and the Finnegan's and all the others. 

Moira loved them all and loved the hospitable homes where there wasalways, in spite of poverty, a bounty of good feeling. 

And before her, just beyond that last steep rise, was the sea. She couldhear its roar now, like a deep voice drowning the clearer pipe of thewinging birds and the shrill of the little grass creatures. Often shewent down to its edge, but at this hour she liked best to lie in thegrass and dream her dreams to its lifting music. 

Her dream always began with: "Oh, Moira O'Donnell, it's all yours! It'sall yours!" Which, of course, sounded like boasting, or a miser gloatingover his gold, and might have seemed very funny to anyone so stupid asto see only the girl's shabby dress and her bare feet, gleaming likewhite satin against the green of the grass. But no fine lady in thatland felt richer than Moira when she began her dreaming. 

Of late, her dreams were taking on new shapes, as though, with hergrowth, they reached out, too. And today, as she lay very still in thegrass, 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 andaway westward with it, away like a bird in far flight. 

Beyond that golden horizon of heaving sea was everything one couldpossibly 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 hadvisited it once; had spent six weeks with his sister who had marriedand settled on a farm in the state of Ohio. His sister's husband had allsorts of new-fangled machinery for plowing and seeding, and for hisreaping! And Father Murphy had told her of the free library that was inthe town near his sister's home, where he could sit all day and read tohis heart's content. 

Father Murphy (he had spent three whole days in New York) had made hersee the great buildings that were like granite giants towering over andwalling in the pigmy humanity that beat against their sides like therise and fall of the tide; he told her of the rush and roar of thestreets 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 finethings, could always see it all just as though magic hands swept asidethose 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 awaywestward. Her eyes, staring into the paling blue, saw beautiful thingsand her thoughts revelled in delicious fancies. 

That slender, gold crowned bit of a cloud--_that_ was Destiny circlingher globe, weaving, and moulding, and shaping; Moira O'Donnell's ownhumble thread was on her loom! And Destiny's face was turned westward. Moira saw shining towers and thronged streets and fields greener thanher own. Far-off music sounded in her ears as though the world off therejust sang with gladness. And it was waiting for her--her. She sawherself moving forward to it all with quick step and head high, going toa beautiful goal. Sometimes that goal was a palace-place, encircled bybrilliant flowers, sometimes a farm like Father Murphy's sister's and ahusband who worked with marvelous contrivances, sometimes a free librarywith all the books one could want, sometimes a dim, vaulted spacethrough which echoed exquisite music--

She so loved that make-believe Moira, moving forward toward glowingthings, that she cried aloud: "That's me! _Me!_" And of course her voicebroke the spell--the dream vanished; there was nothing left but thefleecy cloud, the meadow lark's song, close by. 

There was just time enough before her grandmother needed her, to rundown to Father Murphy's. She knew at this hour she would find him by hiswide doorstep. Fleetly, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft earth, she covered the distance to his house. She ran up behind him and slippedher fingers over his half-closed eyes. 

He knew the familiar touch of the girl's hands. He patted them with hisown 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 wouldhave done. The old priest dreamed, too. 

"Tell me, " she went on. "Can one go to school over there as long as onelikes? 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, sinceshe 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 thisworld has been a better friend to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moirabut you?"

"Child--"

"Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang to her feet and stood slimlyerect. "See?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest had not noticed. Moira--" hecaught her arm, leaned forward and peered into her face as though tosee through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it courage I have taughtye? And honor? And faith?"

Her heart was singing now over the secret she had shared with him. Whowould not have courage and faith when one was so happy? With a lift ofher 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'sbeautiful 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 herhands childishly. "It's fine things I want. The very finest in theworld! And I want my Danny to want them, too. "

"Fine things, " he repeated slowly. "And will ye know the fine thingsfrom the dross, child? That wealth is more times what ye give, aye, thanwhat ye get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart of you isunselfish--"

"What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking frogs in the WidowFinnegan's pond you are! But, sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, asreal 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 MoiraO'Donnell's poor thread and who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe thisminute it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" The girl'seyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, for it's a dream it was, but mypoor heart's so light it hurts--here. "

The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. Under his touch itbowed with quick reverence but not before she had seen a mistiness inthe 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, " laughedthe girl. It was her own word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best beoff, Father dear. "

"Wait. " The old man disappeared through his door. Presently he came outcarrying a small box. From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrappingthe tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, a string of greenbeads. 

"Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are they for me?" with theyouthful certainty that all lovely things were her due. 

"Yes. To remember my blessing. " He regarded them fondly, lifted themthat she might see their beauty against the sun's glow. "'Twas in alittle shop in London I found the pretty things. "

Moira knew how much he must love them as a keepsake--that visit toLondon was only next in his heart to the trip to America. She caught hishands, 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 onlybeads, " 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, suretread of her feet, the challenging poise of her head. "Colleen--" hewhispered with a smile. "Little colleen. " He turned to his door and hislips, even though they still twisted in a smile, moved as though inprayer. 

"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 beforeit fantastic scraps of paper, crackly leaves, a hail of fine cinders. Anearly twilight, gray like a mist, enveloped the city in gloom. Throughit lights gleamed bravely from the grimy windows rising higher andhigher to the low-hanging clouds, each thin shaft beckoning and tellingof shelter and a warmth that was home. 

High over the heads of the hurrying humanity in a street of tenementsMoira Lynch lighted her lamp and set it close to the bare window. Withher it was a ceremony. She sang as she performed the little act. Withoutwere the shadows of the approaching night--gloom, storm, disaster, perhaps even the evil fairies; her lamp would scatter them all with itsglow, 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 itopen. A wee slip of a girl, almost one with the shadows of the dingyhallway, 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' underyour shawl? Beryl Lynch! Dear love us--a doll!" With a laugh that waslike a tinkling of low pitched bells the little mother drew the treasurefrom its hiding place. But as her eyes swept the silken splendor of theraiment 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, liftingfold 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 notsomething very thrilling happened in her simple life--a life thegreatest interest of which was to carry to the store each day the smallbundle 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_ spokento her, though she had hung by very close, inviting an approach withhungry 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 afair bit of dolly and it's lonesome and weeping the little mother may bethis very minute--"

Beryl reached out eager arms. 

"It's an orphan doll. I'll love it _hard_. Give me it. Oh, " with abreath 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, akindling of a fire within the mother breast. She straightened herslender 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 shallhave a school as good as the best and grow up to be maybe the Presidenthimself?" She repeated the words softly as though they made a creed, learned carefully and with supreme faith. Why had she come, indeed, tothis crowded, noisy city from her fair home meadows if not for thispromise it held out to her?

"And isn't your brother the head of his class?" she finishedtriumphantly. "And it's smarter than ever you'll be yourself with yourlittle 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. Shesniffed. Her mother nodded. 

"Stew! And with _dumplin's_--" She made it sound like fairy food. "Readyto 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 thespotless scrap of carpeting and proceeded with infinite tenderness todisrobe the doll. 

"Do you think she will like it here?" she asked suddenly, looking aboutthe humble room which for the Lynch's, served as parlor, dining-room andkitchen. Now its bareness lay wrapped in a kindly shadow through whichglinted diamond sparks from much-scrubbed tin. "It's _nice_--" Berylmeditated. She loved this hour, she loved the singing tea-kettle and thesmell of strong soap and her mother's face in the lamplight, with allthe loud noises of the street hushed, and the ugliness outside hidden bythe closed door, against the paintless boards of which had been nailed aflaming 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, withthis wonder of a dolly in her arms! Her mind flashed over the lastChristmas and the one before that when Beryl had asked Santa Claus for a"real doll" and had cried on Christmas morning because the cheap littlebit of dolldom which the mother had bought out of her meagre savingswould not open or shut its eyes. And now--the impudent heart of theblessed child worrying that the home wasn't good enough for the likes ofthe doll!

"It's a good home for her where it's loving you are to her. It's theheart and not the gold that counts. And who knows--maybe it's a bit ofluck the dolly'll be a-bringing. "

As though a word of familiar portent had been uttered Beryl lifted aface upon which was reflected the glow of the little mother's. Babe asshe was, she knew something of the mother's faith in the fickle god ofchance, a faith that helped the little woman over the rough places, thatnever failed to brighten her deepest gloom. Did she not staunchlybelieve that someday by a turn of good fortune she and her Danny wouldknow the America and the good things of which they had dreamed, sittingin the gloaming of their Ireland, their lover's hands close clasped? Butfor that hope why would they have left their dear hillsides with thehomely life and the kindly neighbors and good Father Murphy who hadtaught her from his own dog-eared books because she was eager and quickto learn? Through the fourteen years since they had come to Americathose girl-and-boy dreams had gone sadly astray, but the little wifestill clung to the faith that they'd have the good things sometime, herDanny 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, asquick as anything to pick out words from her little books. 

"A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. Her eyes grew round andexcited. "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 theshoots? And can Dale ride a horse? And can Dale and me go across theriver where it's like--that?" nodding to the poster. 

Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's anticipations. Thefloor creaked and the kettle sang louder than before. 

"That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave girl you'll be, goingto school and learning more than even poor old Father Murphy knew, Godlove him. And by and by--"

But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked her words. That slowtread was not her big Danny nor the young Dale! At a knock she flew tothe door. 

"Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence. " She caught the old man who stoodon the threshold and laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraidI was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't home yet but you shallstay 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 ofthe gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye the good news and thatDan'll be a-workin' tonight with an extry shift and'll not be comin'home to dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively at thepleasant 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 thedocks 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 manageher voice. 

Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor she turned and caught thewondering Beryl into her arms. 

"And I was a-thinking it would never come! It's ashamed I should be tohave doubted. My big Dan!"

"Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, Mom?" interruptedBeryl, round-eyed. 

"A foreman!" cried the mother in the very tone she would have used ifshe had said "a king. " She-danced about until the floor creakedthreateningly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. And it's fineand 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 witha small box in her hands. From it she lifted a string of round greenbeads and held them laughingly before Beryl's staring eyes. 

"My beads! You shall wear them this night. It's the good old Father'sblessing. " 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 tookBeryl upon her lap. "Beryl darlin', was the likes of that other littlegirl--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, justas I used to dream for my own self, the selfish likes o' me. You shallgo to school and learn from good books. Didn't the old Father tell me ofthe fine schools he had seen when he visited his sister in America? Andanybody 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 hersix years, "I promise to go to school and learn lots like Dale and befine and boo'ful so's my 'dopted dolly will like me as well as--thatother kid. I've gotta be good 'nough for her. So there. "

The child could not comprehend the obstacles which might threaten such astandard; she stared bravely into the unblinking eyes of the doll whosmiled back her graven smile. 

Then: "I'm hungry, " she declared, suddenly deciding that dumplings weremore 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 gaysupper it will be--with the new dolly and the pretty beads and thedumplin'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. Threetimes a week, from the close of school until nine o'clock, he worked inthe store, snatching a dinner of bananas, or bread and cheese, betweencustomers. Because "Mom" had whispered that there were to be "dumplin's"this night and that she would keep some warm for him, and because thewind whipped chillingly through his thin clothing, he broke into a run. 

His homeward way led him past a bit of open triangle which in theneighborhood was dignified by the name of park, a dreary place now, dirty straw stacked about the fountain, dry leaves and papers clutteringthe brown earth and whipping against the iron palings of the fence. Dale, still whistling, turned its corner and ran, full-tilt, upon a bitof 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 andswollen with weeping. "Y'lost?" This was Dale's natural conclusion, forthe 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 voicetrailed off in a wail. 

Dale, touched by her woe, looked about him. Certainly no Cynthia wasvisible. By rapid questioning on his part he drew from her the story ofher desertion. She had played a nice game of running 'round and 'roundand counting the "things, " waiting for Mr. Tony; Cynthia did not like torun because it shook her eyes, so she had put her down on the edge ofthe straw where the wind would not blow on her. And then Mr. Tony hadcome and had told her to "hustle along" and she "had runned away andfor-g-got Cynthia!"

"Well, I guess she's somebody else's Cynthia now, kid. Things don't staylong in the parks 'round here. "

Dale seemed so very old and very wise that the tiny girl listened to hisverdict with blanching face. He knew, of course. 

"Where d'you live?" demanded Dale. "Why, you're just a baby! Anybodywith 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 wonderif that were the way she had come. The streets all looked so muchalike. She had run along the curb, so as to be as far away as possiblefrom 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 tobe lost herself did not matter. 

"Well, don't you know where you live? What's the street? I'll take youhome. "

"22 Patchin Place, " lisped the child. 

Dale hesitated a moment to make sure of his bearings. "Well, then, comealong. I know where that is. And you forget 'bout your Cynthia. You'vegot another doll, haven't you? If you haven't, you just ask Santa Clausfor one. Why, say, kiddo, what's this? You lame?" For the little girlskipped jerkily at his side. 

"That's just the way I'm made, " the child answered, quite indifferent tothe shocked note in the boy's voice. "I can walk and run, but I gocrooked. "

"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 goingto say to you for running off?"

Putting a small hand trustingly into the boy's big one, the childskipped along at his side. "Oh, nothing, " she answered, lost in anadmiring 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--toHeaven. 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 Icall him Jimmie. "

If his companion had not been so very small Dale might have suspected anattempt at "kidding. " He glanced sidewise and suspiciously at her butall he saw was a cherub face framed in a tilted sky-blue tam-o'shanterand straggling ends of flaming red hair. 

"Jimmie won't scold me. _He'd_ want me to try to find Cynthia. " Robinsmothered 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 thehall, so I'm never 'fraid. They're not my really truly aunt's andgrandfather's--I just call them that. And Jimmie leaves the lightburning anyway. What's your name? And are you very old? Are you a manlike Jimmie?"

Dale, warming under the adoration he saw on the small face, felt verybig and very manly. He returned the little squeeze that tugged on hishand. 

"Oh, I'm a big fellow, " he answered. 

"You look awful nice, " the little girl pursued. "Just like one of mymake-believe Princes. I wish you lived with Jimmie and me. I wouldn'tmind Cynthia then. "

"But the Princes never lived with the little girls in the stories, youknow, " argued Dale, finding it a very pleasant and unusual sensation toact the rôle of a Prince even to a very small girl. "You have to findme, you see. "

Miss Robin jumped with joy. "Oh, goody, goody! I'll always make b'lieveyou 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. " Hestopped to study the house numbers. Suddenly a door flew open wide and abareheaded 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 aPrince--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 dollshe'd left there. "

"While I was walking with Mr. Tony this afternoon I played in the parkand I forgot Cynthia. "

"Good Heavens--and you went way off there all by yourself to find thething?"

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 ofhis face relaxed; he ran his fingers through his thick hair, red likethe child's, with a gesture of throwing off some horrible nightmare. ToDale he looked very boyish--with a little of Robin's own cherubicexpression. 

"Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And you must promise not to doit again. Why, I can't ever leave you alone unless you do. "

He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to leave the little Robinunder the doubtful protection her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end gratefulto you, my boy. If there's anything I can do for you--" He slipped onehand mechanically into his pocket. 

"_I_ don't want anything. " Dale spoke curtly and stepped back. "Itwasn't any bother; it's a nice night to walk. "

With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that her gallant Princewas about to slip out of her sight. Her Jimmie had pulled his hand fromhis pocket and was extending it to the boy. He was not even inviting himto come in and smoke like he always invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and allthe others. But of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway. 

She waited until her father had finished his thanks, then, stepping upto 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 yourheart!"

Dale, flaming red, confused, promised that he would, then wheeled andstalked off down the street. After he had rounded the corner he liftedhis arm and wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. Then he stuckhis 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 headinstinctively went higher at the honor thrust upon him. 

When he returned from the store, Dale usually found his mother sittingby the lamp crocheting. But tonight everything was different; scarcelyhad he stopped at their landing before the little mother, quitetransformed, rushed to greet him and tell him the wonderful bit of goodfortune. 

Before it his own adventure was forgotten. 

"And it's only a beginning it is--it's the superintendent he'll be in notime at all, at all, " finished Mrs. Lynch. 

"And we can move? And I can join the Boy Scouts? And go to camp nextsummer? And have a pair of roller skates?"

Mrs. Lynch nodded her head to each question. Behind each note of hervoice rippled a laugh. "Yes, yes, yes. Sure, it's a wonderful night thisis. "

"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 thebiggest. 'Twas like a party tonight for I dressed your sister in thebeads. It's worn out she is, God love her, with the excitement andtrying to keep her wee eyes open 'til her Pop come home. Hushee oryou'll waken the lamb now. "

Dale was deep in thought choosing the words with which he would tell thegood news to the "fellows" on the morrow, his mother was busying herselfwith the "biggest" dumpling, when a peremptory knock came at the door. With a quick cry Mrs. Lynch dropped her spoon--why should anythingintrude upon their joy this night?

A man stood on the threshold presenting a curious figure for he wore aheavy coat over a white duck suit. Where had she seen such a suitbefore? With a catch at her heart she remembered--at the hospital, thattime Dale had been run over. "Oh!" she cried. "My Dan!"

"Mrs. Lynch?" The hospital attendant spoke quickly as one would who hada disagreeable task and must dispose of it without any delay. "Yourhusband's had an accident--he's alive, but--you'd better come. "

Mrs. Lynch stood very still in the centre of the room--her handclutching her throat as though to stifle the scream that tore it. 

"My Dan--hurt!" She trembled but stood very straight. "Quick, Dale, wemust go to him. My Dan. No, no, you stay with Beryl. Oh, _hurry_!" sheimplored the interne, rushing bareheaded past him down the stairway. "_Hurry. _"

For a few moments Dale stared at the half-open door. In his thirteenyears he had experienced the pinch of poverty, even hunger, the pain ofinjury, but never this overwhelming fear of something, he did not knowwhat. 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 cruellyfrightened his mother. Hadn't their luck just come? Hadn't Pop been madea 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 littlesister. He bade her, brokenly, to "never mind and go to sleep, " and hepulled the old blanket up tight to her chin, his eyes so blinded withtears 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 tableand 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 thetrouble which he faced. 

Big Dan Lynch, he who had been the fairest and sturdiest of the countyof Moira's girlhood, would never work again--as superintendent or evenforeman; the rest of his days must be spent in the wheeled chair sent upby the sympathetic Miss Lewis of the Neighborhood Settlement House. Itwas fixed with a contrivance so that he could move it about the smallroom. 

Little Beryl started school which made up for a great deal that hadsuddenly been taken from her life, for mother never sat by the lamp, now, or crocheted. She worked at the Settlement House all day and allevening busied herself with her home tasks. 

The "lucky dolly" Beryl hid away in paper wrappings. Somehow, young asshe 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 theevenings when he had used to go to the store. A tightening about thelips, an older seriousness in the lad's eyes alone told what it had costhim to give up his ambition to graduate with his class, perhaps at itshead. 

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 servetea at half-past four in the Chinese room. 

On this day--another November day, ten years after the events of thelast chapter--Harkness slipped through the heavy curtains with his trayand interrupted Madame Forsyth, mistress of Gray Manor, in deep confabwith her legal advisor, Cornelius Allendyce. 

Mr. Allendyce was just saying, crisply, "Will your mind not rest easierfor knowing that the Forsyth fortune will go to a Forsyth?" whenHarkness rattled the cups. 

Then, strangest of all things, Madame ordered him sharply away with histray. 

Such a thing had never happened before in Harkness' experience and hehad been at Gray Manor for fifty-five years. He grumbled complaininglyto Mrs. Budge, the housekeeper, and to Florrie, Madame's own maid, whowas having a sip of tea with Mrs. Budge in the cosy warmth of thekitchen. 

Florrie asserted that she could tell them a story or two of Madame'swhims and cranks--only it would not become her, inasmuch as Madame wasold and a woman to be pitied. "Poor thing, with this curse on thehouse, who wouldn't have jumps and fidgets? I don't see I'm sure how anyof us stand it. " But Florrie spoke with a hint of satisfaction--asthough 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 anychild of that--branch of the family--could take the place of--"

"Oh, dear Madame, " interrupted the lawyer. "I am not suggesting such athing! I know how impossible that would be. But on my own responsibilityI have made investigations and I have ascertained that your husband'snephew has the one child. The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtlesshas 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, " hepurred. "Exactly. Gordon is the child's name. A very nice name, I amsure. "

"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 satthere, her narrow eyes gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lipstightly compressed, she looked much more like rock than flesh-and-blood. 

Her explosion had the effect of exasperating the little lawyer out ofhis habitual attitude of conciliation. 

"Madame, I can do no more than advise you in this matter. I have traceddown this child as a possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, youhave it in your power to will otherwise. But let me say this--not as alawyer but as your friend. You are growing old. Will you not find, perhaps, more happiness in your old age, if you bring a little youthinto 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 alawyer. I have not been regardless of the fact that the House of Forsythmust 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 exceedinglydistasteful 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. Yousay there is a--child. I wish you to communicate with this child'sfather--this relative of my husband, and inform him that I will makethis child my heir provided he can be brought to Gray Manor at once. Hewill live for one year here under your guardianship. I will send forPercival Tubbs who, you may remember, tutored my grandson. Doubtless heis old-fogyish but from his long association with our family he knowsthe Forsyth traditions and what the head of the House of Forsyth shouldbe. 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 befair, of course, as far as money goes. If he does--" She stoppedsuddenly, her stony demeanor broken. The thin lips quivered at thethought of that sunny south room in the great house where had been leftuntouched the toys, the books, the games, the precious trophies, theguns and racquets, golf sticks and gloves which marked each developmentof her beloved grandson. 

"A very fair plan, " murmured the lawyer. 

"You have not heard all, " went on Madame Forsyth in such a strange voicethat Cornelius Allendyce looked up at her in astonishment. "I am goingaway. "

"You! Where?" exclaimed the man. He could not quite believe his ears. 

"That I do not care to divulge. " She enjoyed his amazement. "I amyielding to a restlessness which in a younger woman you wouldunderstand, but which in me you would no doubt term--crazy. I am goingto run away--to some new place, where, for awhile, no one will knowwhether I am the rich Madame Christopher Forsyth or the poor Mrs. JohnSmith. Oh, I shall be quite safe; at my bank they will be able to findme if anything happens. Norris has had entire charge of the mills for along time. And Budge and Harkness can take care of things here. "

"Madame, " the lawyer was moved out of his customary reserve, "are younot possibly running away from what may bring you happiness--andcomfort?"

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 bewhat the head of the house of Forsyth _should_ be and I would have tosend him back. And my heart has been torn enough. It is tired. I have awhim to find new places--new things--to rest--and forget all this. "

There was an interval of silence. Then Mr. Allendyce, lifting his eyesfrom 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 boundnote-book, the little man of law felt as though he were writing theopening chapters of some fairy-tale. 

Yet there was little of the fairy-tale in the old, empty house, amelancholy house in spite of its wealth of treasure, brought from everycountry on the globe. And there was nothing of romance in the Forsythfamily which had come over to Connecticut from England in the early daysof its settlement and had left to all the Forsyths to come, not only thebeginnings of the Forsyth factory where thread was made by the millionsof spools, and the Forsyth fortune, amassed by those same spools, butalso a deal of that courage which had helped those pioneers endure thehardships and meet the obstacles of the early days. 

Her business at an end, Madame expressed embarrassment at herinhospitality in denying Mr. Allendyce his cup of tea. Would he not stayand dine with her? Mr. Allendyce did not in the least desire to dinealone with his client but the Wassumsic Inn was an uninviting place andNew York was a three hours' ride away. So he accepted with a polite showof pleasure and assured Madame that he could amuse himself in thelibrary while she dressed for dinner. 

Left to himself, the lawyer fell to pacing the velvety length of thelibrary floor. This led him to one of the long windows. He stopped andlooked out through it across the sloping lawns which surrounded thehouse. A low ribbon of glow hung over the edge of the hills which lay tothe west of the town. Silhouetted against it was the ragged line ofroofs and stacks which were the Forsyth Mills. Familiar with themthrough years of business association, the little man of law visualizedthem now as clearly as though they did not lay wrapped in eveningshadow; he saw the ugly, age-old walls, the glaring brick of the newadditions, the dingy yards, the silver thread of the river and acrossthat the rows upon rows of tiny houses piled against one another, eachlike its neighbor even to the broken pickets surrounding squares ofcinder ground. He knew, although his eyes could not see, that theseyards even now were hung with the lines of everlasting washing, that menlounged on those back doorsteps and smoked and talked while women workedwithin preparing the evening meals. These human beings were machines inthe gigantic industry upon which the House of Forsyth was founded. DidMadame ever think of them as flesh and blood mortals--like herself?Cornelius Allendyce smiled at the question; oh, no, the Forsythtradition, of which Madame talked, built an impenetrable wall betweenher and those toilers. 

Staring at the gray hard line of shadow that was the tallest of thechimneys the man thought how like it was to Madame and old ChristopherForsyth. His long connection with the family and the family interestsgave the lawyer an intimate understanding of them and all that hadhappened to them. And it had been much. Mr. Allendyce himself oftenspoke of the "curse" of Gray Manor. Christopher Forsyth and Madame hadhad one son, Christopher Junior. Allendyce could recall the elaboratefestivities that had marked the boy's coming of age, the almost royalpomp of his wedding. Three years after that wedding the young man andhis wife had been drowned while cruising with friends off the coast ofSouthern California. 

This terrible blow might have crushed old Christopher but for thetoddling youngster who was Christopher the Third. The grandfather andgrandmother shut themselves away in Gray Manor with the one purpose inlife--to bring up Christopher the Third to take his place at the head ofthe House of Forsyth. 

At this point in his reflections Mr. Allendyce's heart gave a quickthrob of pity--he knew what that handsome lad had been to the oldcouple. He thought now how merciful it had been that old Christopher haddied before that cruel accident on the football field in which the ladhad 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 oldhouse which nothing had seemed able to dispel. As a last desperateresort the lawyer had suggested, with a courage that cost considerableeffort, the finding of this other heir. 

Mr. Allendyce had known very little of that "other branch" of thefamily. Old Christopher had had a younger half-brother, Charles, who, atthe time Christopher took over the responsibilities of the head of thefamily, went off to South America where he married a young Spanish girl. And from the moment of that "low" marriage, as old Christopher hadcalled it, to the investigation by Mr. Allendyce's agents, nothing hadbeen 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 littlenote-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. Heknew his New York and he knew Patchin Place, where poverty and ambitionelbowed one another, and squalor stabbed at the heart of beauty. ThisGordon Forsyth had his childhood amid this, lived on the rise and fallof 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 hecould step into that other lad's place. If that didn't equal an ArabianNight's tale!

"I'll go down to Patchin Place myself. I'd like to see their faces whenI tell them!" he declared aloud, with a tingle within his heart that wasa 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 oldMadame; she would not have known how to come in and say "Let us go outto dinner. " There had to be all the ceremony and fuss--or it would nothave been Gray Manor and Madame Christopher Forsyth. 

"All right. I'll find her, " Mr. Allendyce growled. Then he was startledout of his usual composure by catching the suggestion of a twinkle inthe Harkness eye which, of course, should not be in a Forsyth butler'seye at all. 

CHAPTER IV

RED-ROBIN

For twenty-five years Cornelius Allendyce had worn nothing but blackties. On the morning of his contemplated invasion of Patchin Place insearch of a Forsyth heir he knotted a lavender scarf about his neck andfelt 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. Allendycewaited until four o'clock before he approached his agreeable task. Atthe door of 22 Patchin Place he dismissed his taxicab and stood for amoment surveying the dilapidated front of the building--with a moment'smental 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 littleman toiled resolutely up the narrow, steep stairway, puffing as heascended. It was necessary to count the landings to know, in the dimnessof the hallway, when he reached the fifth floor. He had to pause outsidethe door to catch his breath; a moment's nausea seized him at the smellof stale food and damp walls. 

But at his knock the door swung back upon so much sunshine and colorthat the little man blinked in amazement. A mite of a girl with a haloof sun-red hair smiled at him in a very friendly fashion. 

"Does Mr. James Forsyth live here?" It seemed almost ridiculous to askthe question for surely it must be some witch's cranny upon which he hadstumbled. 

"Yes. But Jimmie isn't home. Won't you come in?"

Mr. Allendyce stared about the room--a big room, its size enhanced bythe great glass windows and the glass skylight. Everywhere bloomedflowers in gayly painted boxes and pots and tubs. And after anotherblink Mr. Allendyce perceived that there were a few real chairs, veryshabby, and a table covered with a cloth woven in brilliant colors andsome very lovely pictures hanging wherever, because of the windows andthe sloping roof, there was any place to hang them. 

The young girl closed the door, whereupon there came a gay chirping frombirds perching, the bewildered lawyer discovered, in various placesaround the room quite as though this corner of a tenement was awoodland. 

"Hush, Bo, hush. They're dreadfully noisy. They love company. Won't yousit down?"

Mr. Allendyce sat gingerly upon the nearest chair. His companion pulledone up close to him. He perceived with something of a shock that shelimped and at this discovery he looked at her again and drew in a quickbreath. 

Why, here was the oddest little thing he had ever seen. He had thoughther 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 lipslingered a tender droop oddly at variance with the childish dimple ofthe finely moulded chin. Though the girl's red hair--like flame, as thelawyer had first thought, gave her an alive look, the little form underthe 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 investigatorshad 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'thave anything to eat today so he took the picture to her and he's goingto bring back some cake and ice cream. We'll have a party. Will youstay?"

"Good heavens, " thought Allendyce, startled at her astonishingfrankness. 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 itwas too formal for a little girl. So he calls me Red-Robin and he sayshe'll never call me anything else. Why do you look so funny?"

For Mr. Allendyce seemed to have crumpled together and to be quitespeechless. 

"Don't _you_ think I'm too, oh, sort of insignificant, to be Gordon? Ilike Robin much better. "

The lawyer did not hear her. Here was a fine balking of all his andMadame's plans. The Forsyth heir! That that heir should be a girl hadnever entered their calculations. And a little lame girl at that; Mr. Allendyce suddenly recalled how Madame had worshipped the splendidmanliness of young Christopher the Third. 

"Is there anything the matter with you, Mr. --why, you haven't told meyour name!"

With a tremendous effort Cornelius Allendyce pulled himself together. Heflushed under the wondering wide-eyed scrutiny of his companion, whoreached 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 camehere--well, I call it--a most interesting story. Up in Connecticutthere's a small town and a very big mill which has been there for everso long, heaping up millions of dollars. And there's a very big housethere that looks like a castle because it's built of gray stone and isup on a hill--it has everything but the moat itself. And an old ladylives there all alone. " The lawyer paused, a little frightened at a wildthought that was persistently creeping up over his sensibilities. Itmust be the lavender tie or the witchery of the flowers and the absurdchirping birds. 

"Oh, that's the old Dragon!" cried Robin, delightedly, with a chuckle asthough she knew all about the old lady and the lonely castle. "That'swhat Jimmie calls her--poor old thing. Jimmie says she must bedreadfully unhappy in that lonely old house after all that's happenedthere. "

"Do you--do you mean that--you _know_--"

"About those rich Forsyth's? Why, of course. That's Jimmie's petstory--about his terrible relatives. "

"But your father has never--"

"Seen her? Oh, no. Jimmie's very proud, you see. And he thinks one goodpicture 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 twoof her castles! Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. He says moneykills genius. Only--" She stopped abruptly, flushing. 

"Only what, my dear--"

"I ought not to rattle on like this to you. Jimmie says Iam--sometimes--_too_ friendly. I suppose it's because I don't know manypeople. But I wish I just had a _little_ money. You see _I'm_ not a bitof a genius. I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my mother did--or doa single thing. "

Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that he wriggled on therickety 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'tmean that I'm not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. But I'm agirl 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 feeldreadfully. You see it's just that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame andhe won't believe that I don't mind a bit--why, I can run and doeverything--and he won't ever go anywhere without me. And an artistshouldn't have to be tied down; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, whenJimmie was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now Mr. Tony's going offfor a long cruise in the South Seas on a sailing boat and he wantsJimmie to go with him. He's going to write stories and he says if Jimmiesees it all he will make his fortune painting pictures. And he canillustrate the stories, too. And Jimmie won't go because he won't leaveme. Don't you see what I'd do if I had some money? I'd run awaysomewhere and tell Jimmie that he must go with Mr. Tony. "

Mr. Allendyce sprang to his feet and paced up and down the room. In allhis life the world had never seemed so full of youth and color andadventure as it did at that precise moment; his cautious soul fairlyburst with imaginative daring. 

"Miss Gordon--that's what I came for. I mean, I came to tell this GordonForsyth that the old lady, Madame Forsyth, wanted him to come to GrayManor to live--for a year. He's to be tutored there. And if at the endof 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 aboy, because of your name. But our mistake does not make you any less aForsyth or less a possible heir--" The thought was a full-fledged ideanow!

"Who _are_ you?" broke in Robin, excitedly. 

"I am Cornelius Allendyce, attorney for the Forsyth family. And I am--ifyour father consents--your future guardian. "

"Oh, Jimmie'll _never_ consent, never!"

"Why not?" pressed the lawyer. "You say you have no--particular geniusto 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 GrayManor 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, hereyes suddenly wet, "unless--_I_--gave _him_ up. All his life he's madesacrifices and given up things for me--big chances. So now--couldn't Irun away with you--and then write and tell him?"

The Cornelius Allendyce who had lived up to that moment of crossing thethreshold of this fifth-floor witchery would have scorned such asuggestion as "ridiculous! ridiculous!" But the Cornelius Allendyce ofthe lavender tie saw mad possibilities in such a step. Take the girl toGray 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 heknew. "

"Oh, I'd tell him he _had_ to, that he must go away with Mr. Tony. Andhe'd go. But, Mr. Allendyce--I couldn't go tonight. I just couldn't letJimmie come back with the ice cream and cake and maybe a pumpkin pieand--not find me here. Our parties are such fun. If you'll come tomorrowat three o'clock--I'll be ready. But what will the Dragon say when shesees that I'm a girl?"

Mr. Allendyce suddenly laughed aloud. The whole thing was so verysimple. Madame only waited a telegram from him to set forth upon hertravels. Why let her know that Gordon was a girl until the year hadpassed?

"We will not worry about that, my dear. Madame is going away. She willnot be back at Gray Manor for a long time. I will call atthree--tomorrow. I trust you will make your Jimmie understand. You knowthis is a very unusual step--there are some who might call itabduction--"

"Oh, Jimmie wouldn't!" assured Robin. "Not when I tell him why I'mrunning away. "

Robin had answered him so indifferently that Cornelius Allendyce felt hermind was working out a plan for the morrow. He gave a last look aboutthe 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 decidethat this step is--too irregular, if perhaps we ought to talk with yourfather first--"

"No! No!" cried Robin. "That would spoil everything!"

Down in the street Cornelius Allendyce waved off a persistent taxidriver, deciding that he needed the vent of exercise to bring him backto earth. And as he hurried along he felt a curious elation, as thoughfor the first time he enjoyed a zest in living. As a lawyer his life hadbeen necessarily cut-and-dried; there had been little room foradventuring. And now, in a brief half-hour, he had let himself into thewildest sort of conspiracy. (He stopped suddenly and mopped hisforehead. ) He was planning to deliberately deceive Madame Forsyth, tosteal a young and very unusual girl from her parent--and, to assume theguardianship of this same runaway. Where would it all end?

But in that half-hour just past something must have happened to thelittle man's conscience for even after the startling summing up, helaughed and walked on with a step lighter than before. 

 * * * * *

Back on the fifth floor of the old house in Patchin Place Robin leanedover the table writing a letter. Her task was made the more difficultbecause of the tears which blinded her eyes. 

"Jimmie, I love you more than anything in the world but I am going torun away and leave you. I am going to the Dragon. She wants an heir. Iam going to live in the castle and have a tutor. And my guardian isgoing to be the Dragon's lawyer--he's ever so nice and fathery--so yousee 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 allright and you must go away with Mr. Tony and paint lots and I'll be soproud. And please, please Jimmie, make Aunt Milly promise to take careof the birds and the flowers for they mustn't die. And you will write tome, 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. Shethrust it into her pocket as she turned to meet him. 

"Oh, _Jimmie_!" she cried, for under his arm he carried the picture hehad taken to sell to Mrs. Wycke. 

"She didn't want it, " he explained, testily. 

The girl had been well schooled in disappointment; not the slightestshadow now crossed her face. 

"_Someone_ will, Jimmie, " she declared, brightly, taking the heavypackage from him. "And you said yourself Mrs. Wycke couldn't tell achromo 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 youread to me--" and thinking of the note that lay in her pocket, shereached up very suddenly and kissed her Jimmie to hide the break in hervoice. 

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 tobe done at the last moment, that she had no time to think what theparting with all she loved so dearly must mean to her. 

Promptly at three o'clock Cornelius Allendyce tapped on the door. Hisface was very red and moist and his hand, as he reached out for Robin'sbag, shook, but Robin did not notice all that; she slipped quicklythrough the door and shut it behind her, as though fearful that at thelast moment she might find it impossible to go. 

Out in the thin sunshine, whirring through the traffic of the crowdedstreets, neither spoke for breathlessness. Cornelius Allendyce stared atthe buildings and swallowed at regular intervals to steady his nerves--atrick he had always found most helpful in important legal trials. Robinkept her eyes glued on the back of the taxi driver's head but he mighthave had two heads and one upside down for all she noticed. Her hands inher lap were clenched very tight and her lips were pressed in astraight, thin, resolute line. 

But as they kept on past Forty-second street and headed toward CentralPark West the lawyer explained that he was taking her to his own homefor the night. 

"My sister will make you quite comfortable. Tomorrow we will go out toWassumsic. " He did not say that it was important, too, to give MadameForsyth ample opportunity to get away from Gray Manor. 

Robin drew a long breath and relaxed. It had taken so very much courageto 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 sortof a way with a great many "my dear's. "

"I suppose, " the lawyer had said, looking at the two, "you, Effie, willhave 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, youare a Forsyth of Gray Manor now. " He turned to his sister. "Effie, canyou 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 shopwhere 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 todo?"

So, for a few hours the making of these amazing lists kept Robin'sthoughts from that little fifth floor home and Jimmie. Miss Effie beganwith shoes and finished with hats, with little abbreviations in bracketsto include caps and scarfs and all sorts of things. "It is very cold inWassumsic, " 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 writingset. "They can send on most of these things, " she pondered. 

Robin slyly pinched herself to know that she was still aliving-breathing girl; all seemed as unreal as though she had slippedaway into a magician's world. 

But the lists completed, dinner over, alone with her new guardian, anoverwhelming loneliness swept her. Cornelius Allendyce, turning from aprotracted study of the blazing fire, was startled to find the girl'shead pillowed in her arm, her shoulders shaking with smothered sobs. 

"My dear! My dear!" he exclaimed, very much as Miss Effie would havedone. 

"I--I can't help it. I tried--"

Poor Robin looked so very small in the big chair that remorse seizedCornelius Allendyce. How could he have taken this little girl from hercorner, shabby as it was?

It was not too late--

"Miss Gordon, " he began a little uneasily, wondering what guardians didwhen 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 thinkingof Jimmie. He must be awfully lonesome--now. You see you don't knowJimmie. He depends on me to remind him of things like his hot milk. Andjust 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 tiredfrom the excitement of everything. And tomorrow will be a busy day--andan interesting day. "

Robin drew herself slowly from the chair. She limped over to the divanupon which Cornelius Allendyce sat. Her eyes were very steady, dark withearnestness. 

"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 thoseclothes and the money or anything like that. There could not be anythingat Gray Manor as nice as Jimmie's and my bird-cage. But I want Jimmie tohave his chance--"

Left alone, Cornelius Allendyce found himself haunted by Robin's "Jimmiemust be awfully lonesome. " What a strange pair--the quaint old-younggirl living in a world which circled around this father--the father, bythe girl's own assertion, "depending" upon the girl. And little Robin, scarcely more than a child, realizing that she hindered the man'sdevelopment, talking about giving him "his chance" and at such cost--andpromising 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 heldlittle 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 wantin New York City, and had never approached Madame for as much as apenny. Robin had said Jimmie couldn't paint if he were rich. Could hepaint if he lost her?

Suddenly Cornelius Allendyce had a vivid understanding of the tie thatbound these two. And it was unthinkable that this man would let the girlgo and do nothing. Yet it was not of any possible embarrassment _he_might suffer that Cornelius Allendyce thought at this moment; it was ofthe heartbreak of the father. He had not considered him at all; carriedaway by a mad impulse he had let himself listen to a child and had losthis own sense of justice. Why, it had been rank robbery! He must go tothis man at once. Muttering to himself he went in search of his hat andcoat. 

 * * * * *

For the third time the little lawyer climbed the flights of stairs at 22Patchin Place. And this time, so eager was he to square himself withRobin's Jimmie, he ran up the steps. He knocked twice and when no oneanswered 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, hisface flushed with impatience. "Mr. Tony, " thought the lawyer. He wasevidently just drawing breath after a heated argument. 

"Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I knocked but I do not think you heardme. " Allendyce stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed out ofplace at this moment. "I am Cornelius Allendyce, " he finished humbly andguiltily. "I came back to--explain. "

James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement as though he would springat 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 saidyou would not let her go and she had quite made up her mind to giveyou--what she calls--your chance. She has an idea that she ties youdown--"

Jimmie choked as a sob strangled in his throat. His anger suddenlymelted to abjection. Mr. Tony laid a comforting hand on his shoulder andturned to the lawyer. 

"The girl is right. She's a wonderful little thing. She always could seefurther ahead than her Dad. I have been telling my pal that this is thebest thing all around that could happen--a fine bit of luck foreveryone. Robin will go up to Gray Manor and be as happy and safe as canbe and her father can travel and work--the way Robin wants him to. Robintook rather unusual means to gain her end but--well, she knew what shewas doing. "

Jimmie turned to Cornelius Allendyce and studied his face with adesperate keenness. 

"She isn't like other children, " he began slowly. "Poor little crookedkiddie. She's sensitive. I've kept her away from everything that couldhurt her. I've tried--to make up to her. I thought she was happy; I didnot know she guessed--or knew--"

Mr. Tony had taken a few steps down the room. He wheeled now and cameback with a set expression on his face as though he had to say somethingdisagreeable and must get it over with. 

"Jimmie, suppose, just for once, you look your soul straight in theeye--honest. Now isn't it the artist heart of you that's hurt by Robin'scrooked little body--and not the child? Don't you keep her shut up inhere because, when people stare at her--_you_ suffer? Have you been fairto her? Oh, yes--you love her, all right. Well, then, let her go. Robinthinks she's giving you your chance--well, _I_ say, give the girl herown. "

"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'sheart lighter. Come, old man, go off with me on this cruise and workyour 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 youa 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, whatlittle Robin had meant when she had said, "You don't know Jimmie!" Hecertainly was not like other men. 

"I feel such a--quitter. I promised Robin's mother--I'd make up to thechild for her being lame--the way _she_ would have, if she'd lived. AndI've failed. Why, only last night she went to bed hungry. " Therefollowed a moment of tense silence, then the man went on dully, in atone that implied yielding. "I suppose I may know all the circumstancesthat led up to--this. "

Cornelius Allendyce proceeded to tell everything from the day of hisinterview with Madame to the moment of his consternation upondiscovering that Gordon Forsyth was a girl and not a boy. He repeatedword for word Robin's and his conspiring; he described their flight andRobin's break down in his library. 

"She had not lost courage--oh, no. But she was thinking of you. She wasafraid you'd forget to take your hot milk at night or something likethat, " 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 hadbeen 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. " Heheld 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 Harknesshad been brought up on stories of the ceremonious life there. Thereforehe considered it quite fitting that he should take upon himself theplanning for the reception of the Forsyth heir. 

"I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave waited, " he grumbled toMrs. Budge. "To 'ave the poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seemright. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do everything--'"

"Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just come down from dustingthe "boy's" room. The familiar "clutter, " as she had always called it, had roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face was streaked nowand red. "'Pears to me most you do is talk--and talk big. It's Harknessthis and Harkness that! To be sure _my_ mother was a plain New Englandwoman--"

"Now, Budge, now, Budge, " interrupted Harkness, consolingly. "No one asI know is going to dispute that your mother was a plain New Englandwoman. And we're not going to quarrel at such a rememberable moment, notwe. And we're going to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting aForsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the door--you must standat the head of the long line of servants--"

"Long line of servants! And where do you expect to get them, I'd like toknow? Things have been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since thegloom came. And that new piece from the village ain't worth her salt'sfar 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 helpcalled up from the village to fill any need. He was not to be daunted, however; there were the gardener and the undergardener and the chauffeurand the stableman and they had wives who might be induced to put ontheir Sunday clothes and join in the ceremonial--all in all, they couldmake a fair showing. 

Into the plans for the dinner Mrs. Budge threw herself with her wholeheart. There must be young turkey and cranberry sauce, and a tasty saladand a good old New England pumpkin pie, which she would make herself, and ice cream and little cakes with colored frosting--oh, Budge knewwhat a boy liked. 

And Harkness would brighten the great dark hall with bitter-sweet anddeck the gloomy rooms with flowers--he knew what was proper for thecoming 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 happinessover Gray Manor, labored until the old house shone and bloomed for thecoming of Gordon Forsyth. And a few minutes before the hour of arrival, the gardener and the undergardener and the stableman and their wivescame in, breathless with importance; Chloe, the old colored cook, appeared in a brand new turban and 'kerchief. Mrs. Budge, her gray hairbrushed back tighter than ever, donned her black silk which she had notworn since young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and took her place atthe 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 longhall with fretful eyes. "That piece, " she confided to Harkness, themoment not being so important as to still her grumbling, "said shewouldn't come in. And when I told her she could just choose t'wixt thisand 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 andsevens--"

Harkness was holding his watch in his hand. And just as he shut it witha significant click, a tall dark-haired girl in a plain gingham dressslipped into the room and took her place at the end of the line, at thesame moment casting a defiant glance at the knot which adorned the backof 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 hereyes tight from sheer nervousness. There was a visible straightening anda 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 redhair, wide with excitement, frightened. 

Harkness had opened his lips for his little speech of welcome but thefirst 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 bustledup the steps, and thrust a bag in Harkness' limp hand. 

"Well, we're here!" he cried cheerily, ignoring the amazement anddisappointment that fairly tingled in the air. "And a fine welcomeyou're giving us!" He turned to Robin, who stood rooted to thethreshold. "My dear, these people have served the Forsyths faithfullyand 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 hehad 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 lunchedvery early and the ride here is always tiresome. In Madame's absence, Iam sure you will take care of Miss Gordon and--me. " There was the finestinflection 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 somethingso terrible in the great hall, the broad stair that lost itself in acavern of darkness above, the brilliant lights, the staring faces. Hereyes swept from Mrs. Budge's stony face down the line and crossed thecurious glance of the dark-haired girl in the gingham dress. Robin'sbrightened, for the girl was young, but the girl flushed a dark red, tossed her head and stalked through the narrow service door out of theroom. 

Robin turned to Cornelius Allendyce and clung to his arm. He seemed theone nice friendly thing in the whole place. And, as though he knew howshe felt, he patted her hand in a way that seemed to say, "Courage, mydear. "

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 willhave. " The lawyer's voice carried a rebuke that was not lost upon thehousekeeper. "Harkness, carry the bags upstairs and Miss Gordon and Iwill follow. "

So Harkness' reception line broke up; the gardener and the undergardenerand their wives following Mrs. Budge's stiff back out through theservice door while Harkness led Robin and her new guardian up the broadstairway. 

In the kitchen, for very want of strength, Mrs. Budge flopped into achair. 

"Sixes and sevens!" she gasped. "I'll say that things _are_ just goingto sixes and sevens. I've always distrusted all lawyer-men and this oneain't a bit different. Bringing a _girl_ here, and a cripple. Did youever 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 butshe ain't a worth-while Forsyth. She ain't. As if a girl could step intoour boy's shoes. " She sniffed audibly. "She don't take in Hannah Budge. "

When Harkness appeared there was a fresh outburst and a reiteration thatHannah Budge "wasn't going to be taken in by a piece no bigger'n a pintof cider. "

"Well, the girl's here--and hungry, " Harkness retorted with meaningabruptness. 

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 thatold Chloe's forgot her turkey, " and with a heavy sigh that fairlyrattled 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 seemedequally lovely in the perfection of their furnishings. She had stood fora moment in the door of the south room that had been Christopher theThird's. "Here's where they'd have put you if you were a boy, " her newguardian had told her. In spite of Mrs. Budge's efforts at cleaning anddusting, a melancholy hung over the room and about all the boyish thingsthere 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 thevalley and the hills beyond. 

"Oh, wouldn't Jimmie love that?" she had cried, lingering in one of thewindows. "He loves hills, and doesn't that river look like a silverribbon tying the brown fields?"

The bedroom opened on one side into a sitting room with a bay window, onthe other into a tiny bathroom, shining and gleaming with nickel andtile. 

"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 spenthis life in such tiny quarters as the bird cage and he could notunderstand the girl's state of mind. 

"My dear, after a little everything will seem quite natural. Andremember--everything is at your command. This is your home. You areGordon Forsyth. You will not have time to be lonely. "

Robin's serious face suddenly broke into a bright smile. She patted thegarland of roses which held back the silk hangings. 

"I just had the funniest feeling, as if I were not me at all but all ofa sudden someone else. Ever since I was a very little girl I've oftenplayed that I lived a make-believe story--I make it like all the fairystories jumbled together. And I fit all the people I know into thedifferent characters. Jimmie lets me play it because I am alone so muchand it keeps me happy. Sometimes he even plays it with me. It makeshorrid things seem nice. And Jimmie never wanted me to know the boys andgirls at school--because I'm lame, I guess--so I always pretended thingsabout them and gave them names. You should have seen Bluebeard. " Shelaughed at the recollection. "And now I'm going on playing. I'm thelittle beggar-maid who awakens to find her self in the castle. Do yousuppose 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 allturns 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 awarmth out of all keeping with the time of the year, throwing such ajoyous glow about everything in the room that she rubbed her eyes to besure she was not dreaming. 

The evening before, everything had seemed so strange that Robin had notbeen able to take in small things; now an immense curiosity to exploreGray Manor, and the grounds that were like Central Park, and the littletown, and the hills around it, seized her. She slipped her feet out ofbed and into the satin slippers which had been one of Miss Effie'spurchases. She dressed with feverish haste, rebuking herself for havingslept so late, for her new wrist watch told her it was after teno'clock. 

Ten o'clock--why, on Patchin Place the morning was almost over at thathour, the streets about thundering with the work of the day. And here itwas as still as night, or as--a church on a weekday, Robin thought. 

Dressed, she opened the door of her room very quietly and peepedcuriously out. And there in the wide hall, dusting an old highboy, wasthe 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 sointensely blue as to look black and startling in their contrast to thewhiteness of her skin. They were brooding, smoldering eyes and a toofrequent scowl was making tiny lines between the straight blackeyebrows. 

"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 muchdifference to you what I'm called. The man who came with you's waitingdownstairs. "

In spite of this rebuff Robin lingered for a moment, hopeful of apleasanter word. But the girl Beryl shouldered her duster and marchedoff, head high. 

"I'm going to find out more about her right off, " determined Robin asshe went in search of her guardian. 

The big rooms below, like her own room, looked very different in themorning light, even cheery. Mr. Allendyce greeted her with a smile andHarkness' "Good-morning, Miss Gordon, " had pleasant warmth. It was funto sit in the high-backed chair before the shining silver and theflowers and to choose between grapefruit and frosted orange juice. Sofascinated was Robin that she forgot for the time, her interest in thegirl she had encountered upstairs. 

"Well, what do you think of Gray Manor in daylight?" asked Mr. Allendyceas the two walked into the library. 

"Oh, it's more like a great castle than ever. But it isn't--half as badas I thought it was. " When Robin caught the amused twinkle in herguardian's eye she added hastily: "I mean, it isn't gloomy and sad atall. It's so beautiful--and I love beautiful things. "

Mr. Allendyce thought suddenly that it was the first time for a longtime _he_ had seen these rooms when they had not seemed overhung withmelancholy. But he checked any expression of the thought; instead hetook Robin on a tour through the library and drawing rooms, pointing outto her the treasures which had been brought from every corner of theworld. There were rare tapestries and bronzes, and tiny ivory carvingsand tables inlaid with bright jade and old crystal candelabra, andquaint chests and wonderful paintings and rare old books. As he told thestory of each, Cornelius Allendyce marvelled at the girl's quickappreciation and intelligent interest. Her Jimmie had evidently gatheredtravelled people about him and Robin had been always a sharp listener. 

Then Harkness interrupted their pleasant occupation by appealing toRobin for "his orders" with such a comical solemnity that Robin haddifficulty suppressing a nervous giggle. Her guardian came to her rescuewith the suggestion that they drive about the town and the mills, havean 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 motorwhich came to the door as a coach-and-four, resplendent with regaltrappings. And, cuddled in the wolf-skin robes, flying over the frostyroads which wound through the hills, it was very easy to feel like aprincess from one of her own stories. 

Only the mills spoiled her lovely day. The evening before they hadloomed obscurely and interestingly but in broad daylight they were ugly. The great chimneys belched black smoke into the beautiful blue of thesky; the monotonous drone of many machines jarred the hillside quiet. Everything was so dusty and dirty--even the tiny houses where the menlived. Robin, brought up though she had been in Patchin Place, turned indisgust 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 alwaysdrab--like that. And you see it has grown like a giant. There--there'sthe 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 lookedback over her shoulder. "I'm glad we can't stop today. This ride hasbeen so lovely that I'd hate to spoil it by--seeing the Giant up close. "

"Giants are very powerful. And usually very rich. " Cornelius Allendyceenjoyed the fancy. 

"Yes--and they crush and kill, too. "

"But didn't a Jack climb something or other and overcome one of them inhis lair?"

At this Robin laughed and then forgot, for the time being, the mills andthe dirty houses; when Mr. Allendyce hoped Mrs. Budge would give them avery big tea party, she realized she was hungrier than she had ever beenbefore. 

So full had been each moment of her first day at Gray Manor that it wasnot until she sat curled in the big divan before the library fire, abook of colored plates of Italian gardens across her lap that shethought of her determination to know more of the girl who had calledherself Beryl. 

Harkness stood at the long table putting it in order. Harkness seemedalways 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'sshe?"

"That's a person from the village, Miss Gordon. I don't know as I'veheard her name. Budge mostly calls her a piece. I don't think Budge issatisfied 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 anythingmore, Miss Gordon?"

Harkness had a warm heart under his faded livery and it went out now toRobin 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 wasgoing the next day; little Miss Gordon would be quite without friends atGray 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 justcount 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 youplease call me Robin? You see everyone who's ever liked me real wellcalled me that and it'll make me feel homey here. "

"Well, just between _us_, Miss--Robin. " And the old man went off with amysterious smile that even Budge's sour face could not dispel. 

The house was very still. Mr. Allendyce was in his room writing someletters. The early dinner had been over for sometime. Robin wonderedwhat 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 andcorridors turning in every direction and little stairs here and there sothat one first went up and then down and then up again. Robin had almostgiven up her search and had just about decided she was lost, for turnwhichever way she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard theharsh, 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 toget back to the library, " she thought, laughing silently at theridiculousness of being lost in a house, anyway. 

She traced the music to a turning which led into a narrow hallway. Atits end a door stood ajar and from it a light streamed. Robinapproached the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the music, then stood still on its threshold in delighted amazement for the violinplayer 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, andvery bare. There was one chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, atthe same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said plainly: "What do youwant?"

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 onlyother _young_ person in this house. Though I never had any chums likemost girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds and the flowersand the Farri children made it--" Robin stopped suddenly, for Beryl wasstaring at her with rude amusement. "I--I thought it would be so nice ifyou--and I--could be--sort of chums, " she managed to finish. 

Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its casewith 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 allthe courage she could muster to force her advance upon this girl andBeryl'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--GordonForsyth. 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'swhole soul went out in resentment at what she suspected was"patronizing. " "Not me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, youjust _say_ you can't see. Why I'm like a servant here. Though I won't bethat way long with that old crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn'twant 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 herown age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which she longed topossess and knew she did not; beautifully straight and tall. 

"I asked old Budge for the place. I heard she wanted someone to help herand it was work anyone could do. Mother felt dreadfully--she said I'dhate it. I don't mind the work but I hate--oh, feeling I'm not as goodas 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 toldher 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 Iwas curious to see the boy they were all making such a fuss about. Youjust ought to know how upset they were when _you_ came! Why, old Budgetalked as though it were a disgrace for a Forsyth to be a girl. I wasglad--because it fooled her. " Beryl realized suddenly that she wasgrowing friendily confidential. She sharpened her tone. "_You'd_ bettergo 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 befriends. We might have such good times--"

"You _are_ a funny little kid, aren't you? And you certainly don't knowhow things are run in stiff houses like this. If old Budge could hearyou! I don't mind telling you that the old cat keeps saying she's goingto watch you to see if you act like a Forsyth. So you'd better not lether hear you asking to be friends with me. "

Robin slowly rose to her feet, two bright spots of color flaming in hercheeks. 

"Why, I'll--" Her anger died suddenly and a quaint little dignity fellupon her. She straightened her slender figure and held her head veryhigh. "I am a Forsyth and I shall act just as I think a good Forsythshould and not as Mrs. Budge thinks. And please don't think I'm theleast bit afraid of this Mrs. Budge. "

Beryl laughed so gleefully at Robin's defiance that Robin joined in withher and the friendship for which she sought sprang into being--allbecause 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 thewinding 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 inthis 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 topoor Mrs. Budge's cup of bitterness. Though he brought vividly backheartbreaking memories of young Chistopher the Third's school days, whenshe had waited each day for the lad's boisterous charge upon the kitchenafter the "bite" which was his and her little secret, she hoped to findin him an ally. _He_ would see how ridiculous it was to have a Forsythgirl, anyway, and especially a girl who limped around the house like ascared 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 havesoon learned to love him. But a girl--how would she look sitting atMaster Christopher's desk, in his chair! Something was all wrongsomewhere, but Percival Tubbs would find out and say what's what. 

With this hope strong in her breast she made excuse to go into theChinese room, for the Chinese room was only separated from the libraryby heavy curtains through which voices could be easily overheard. AndHarkness had said the lawyer and the tutor were talking in the library. 

Robin's guardian had given much thought to this interview with thetutor. 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 andBudge and this Percival Tubbs, a poor sort of companionship where afifteen-year-old girl's happiness was concerned. 

"I must make Tubbs see that the child is different--" he was thinkingjust as Mrs. Budge tiptoed into the Chinese room. 

"Miss Gordon is not like other children and you'll have to plan yourschool work a little differently with her, " he began, speaking slowly. "She's bright enough and knows much more about some things than mostgirls her age--and nothing at all about others. What I want you to do isto go easy; easy, that's it. I rather imagine she's always taken a loton her own shoulders and I don't believe she's ever thought much ofherself. If you can develop a little assertiveness in her--she'll needit, here--"

"Yes. She'll need it here, " echoed the tutor, because he thought heought to say something. He was a tall, lanky man whose shoulders saggedas though something about them had broken under the strain of beingdignified; his face narrowed from an impressive dome of a forehead to astraggling Van Dyke beard which he always stroked with the fingers ofhis left hand. He was the old type of schoolmaster whom the rapidforward stride of education had left far behind. His summons to GrayManor had come rather in the way of a life-saver and he did not intendto 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 werecomfortable, his food good and his salary certain, he could adapthimself to any fool theory this lawyer guardian might care to advance. 

Mr. Allendyce stared hard at the other, his face wrinkled in his effortto say the right thing. 

"Oh, let her have her head, " he finished finally. And he liked that ideaso well that he repeated it. "Let her have her head. Do you understandme? Never mind what's in the old schoolbooks. If she'd rather take awalk than study Latin verbs, well, let her. I want her to be happyhere--happy, that's most important. You've heard of flowers that bloomonly in shelter and sunshine? This youngster isn't unlike--"

"Well, I never! No, I _never!. . . I never!_" Mrs. Budge's gasp, rising ina crescendo, almost betrayed her presence. She gave a pillow a mightyjab. As though it were not bad enough to bring the girl to the house inthe first place without paying a man a fancy price to teach her to haveher own way! "Flowers! Humph! Old fools--" Unable to endure another wordin silence she stalked off to her own quarters. 

In the butler's pantry she found Beryl arranging real flowers in asquatty Bristol glass bowl and humming gaily as she did so. Now Berylshould have beep upstairs marking the new linen and she should not besinging as though she owned the whole world. These two transgressionsand the sight of the bright blossoms in the girl's hand brought theclimax to the old woman's wrath. All Beryl's shortcomings tumbled offher tongue in an incoherent flow of ill-temper. A stormy scene resultedwhich left the old housekeeper spent and Beryl blazing with indignation. 

Consequently, when poor Robin, depressed from her first hour with thetutor, trying not to feel that Gray Manor was going to be a prisoninstead of a castle, sought out her new friend she found her throwingher few possessions into a cheap suitcase that lay, opened, across hernarrow 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; shehad suffered the keenest impatience all through the trying morning, longing to go in search of her new friend. She could not lose hernow--for a hundred Budges. 

"Oh, I won't let you go!"

"A lot _you_ could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, tears very close. "Ijust 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 earnedtwo hundred dollars. "

Two hundred dollars! That seemed such a very big amount of money toRobin that she sat silent, thinking about it. 

Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head. "I s'pose thatdoesn't mean much to you. But it does to me--'specially when I have toearn it. " Then, with a flash of temper: "What do you know about wantingsome one thing with all your whole heart and knowing just where you canget it and not having the money?"

Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out her troubles alwaysbrought 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'mtalking about. That's why I said we couldn't be friends. _I've_ had towork at home like a slave ever since I can remember. Pop's sick all thetime and cross, and poor mother looks so tired and tries to be socheerful and brave that your heart aches for her. And even when you'repoor, a girl wants things, pretty things and to do things like othergirls--and work as hard as you can you can't ever seem to reach them. Iget 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 italways is in books, but in life, when you're poor, it's each fellow forhimself 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 cheapold fiddle. And I can play--I _know_ I can play, or could if I could geta good violin. I took lessons from an old Belgian who lived above us andI played once for Martini at the theatre and he said--but what's the useof caring? What's the use of _thinking_ about it? All a girl like me cando is just want big things!"

"Oh, Beryl, " breathed Robin, a tremble on her lips. She wanted very muchto make Beryl understand that she was not the "lucky thing" Berylthought her; that she knew, too, what it was to want something and notto 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 amakeshift contentment. "Oh, Beryl, honestly I know just how you feel. Iwish I could help you. Maybe I can. My allowance seems awfully big and Ican't ever spend it all--"

"Well, I'm not a beggar and I'm not hinting for your money, " flaredBeryl. 

"I didn't mean--" Robin began, then faltered. Beryl had spoken with suchreal 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 burdentoward the suitcase, the content of the package slipped out and down tothe floor. Robin stared in amazement for there lay a doll in faded satinfinery. 

With a short, ashamed laugh, Beryl picked it up. "_That_ old thing, " sheexclaimed, 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'slike a doll--I lost, once, ever so long ago. " She examined the prettyclothing. 

Now Beryl stared at Robin as though to find in her face a likeness tothe little girl who had deserted her doll. 

"Lost? And I found it in Sheridan Square. A little girl went off andleft 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 criedmyself to sleep night after night thinking poor Cynthia was unhappysomewhere. "

"And I called her my orphan doll and loved her because I thought shemissed 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 thebed, the doll between them, the packing forgotten. 

Robin clapped her hands. "And to think we find each other now. It's likea story. I went back to the park all alone that evening and would havebeen 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 mightlaugh and she did not want that. 

Beryl's face suddenly grew grave as she smoothed out a fold of thedoll-garment. 

"I always kept the doll put away. I never played with it because--" Shehesitated a moment. "That night that I found the doll was a dreadfulnight. I wasn't quite six but I'll always remember it. At first motherand I were so happy, over finding the doll and because Pop had justgotten a raise. It seemed as though everything were going to bewonderful and we felt as rich as could be. We called the doll a luckydoll. 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 marryPop. And we had dumplings--ugh, I've hated dumplings ever since. Andthen--"

"What happened?"

"They came for Mom, some man from the hospital. Pop had been terriblyhurt. 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 chairand scolds and--well, I never wanted to take the doll out when mothercould 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 haveto--Jimmie always said, it's a long lane that has no turning. I'm soglad it was you who found my Cynthia. It might have been some one whowouldn'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 addedtriumphantly, "because we're really truly friends now, no matter whatyou 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 justfor the asking and he's made me the silliest big allowance that threegirls couldn't spend. Oh, I've a plan! Ought not a girl like me have acompanion? Don't they most always in books? You shall stay here at GrayManor 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 myguardian going away and leaving me here alone. You see I promised myselfthat 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 ofJimmie and our lovely home and the birds. But if you'd stay it would beeasier. Oh, say you will, say you will. "

Beryl stared at Robin with a suspicious scrutiny. She firmly believedthat rich people never did anything except for themselves and Robin, nodoubt, was like all the others. Yet she was such a queer little thingthat perhaps she _was_ trying to be "nice" to her and make a soft placefor 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'llread together out of all those books in the library. And play--I neverhad a real chum because Jimmie thought the girls and boys who went tothe school I did, might make fun of my being lame. Poor Jimmie, healways minded my being lame much more than I did because he's an artistand shivers when anything isn't perfect. You shall have a bed in myroom--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 Ican really _do_ things for you--"

"Oh, of course you can, lots of things. But you shan't wear thoseuniforms--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 belongingsand to establish them in Robin's room, Beryl working mechanically, unable to believe her good fortune. Then, at Robin's command, shefollowed her while she went in search of her guardian. 

Cornelius Allendyce and Percival Tubbs, sitting in a blue cloud of cigarsmoke, were pleasantly discussing the pros and cons of the tariffquestion upon which they agreed, when Robin interrupted them. 

"Please excuse me, but this is very important. " Her breathlessnessstartled the two men. "I've engaged Beryl to be my chum. I--I thought Imight 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 PercivalTubbs but that good gentleman was stroking his silky beard quiteindifferently. 

"I'd rather have Beryl than anyone else, 'cause she's almost my own ageand we like each other. Shall I tell Mrs. Budge or--"

"Without so much as a by-your-leave!" murmured the guardian. He surveyedBeryl; she seemed like a wholesome, spirited sort and the idea of alittle companion for Miss Gordon was not a bad one, not at all--strangehe hadn't thought of it. 

"Perhaps, Miss Gordon, you'd better tell her yourself. You mustbegin--holding your own, my dear. Don't forget--ever, that you are aForsyth, and that name has great power over Hannah Budge. "

Robin did not stop to ponder what he meant or why a twinkle shone in hiseyes. She rang the bell as her guardian indicated, then waited with aresolute squaring of her small chin, for Harkness' coming. 

"Please, Mr. Harkness, will you bring Mrs. Budge here? There's somethingI want to tell you both. "

Mrs. Budge, as she hunted out a clean apron, grumbled at the unusualsummons. 

"The girl herself, you say?" she asked, as she followed Harkness to thelibrary. 

Her astonishment changed to white wrath when Robin, standing by herguardian's chair, spoke. 

"I wanted to tell you that Beryl Lynch is going to stay here as mycompanion. I'm going to give her half of my room so that I won't belonely and please set a place for her next to me at the table. "

Once again Cornelius Allendyce caught the twinkle in the butler's eyewhich should not be in a Forsyth butler's eye at all. But there was notwinkle about Mrs. Budge; her cheeks puffed in her effort to speakwithout strangling. 

"If that piece--" she began, but she was quickly interrupted from everyside. Both Harkness and Cornelius Allendyce cried out, the onepleadingly, the other in warning: "Careful, Mrs. Budge. " Then Robinstepped forward and slipped her hand through Beryl's arm. 

"Please, Mrs. Budge, I have made Beryl promise to stay. She didn't wantto but I begged her. And if anyone is unkind to her it's just the sameas being--unkind to me. That is all, " she finished grandly, with animperious little motion of her hand that waved the irate woman from theroom 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 hadescaped 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 yourweapons at hand. "

CHAPTER IX

THE LYNCHS

The only thing that made the Lynch's cottage any different from the twohundred others at the mills, was that it stood at the end of a drearyrow and therefore had a window on the side of its living room whichoverlooked the hills and the river. 

This window was Moira Lynch's delight. Her poor, big Danny could sit init all day long. And from it she herself could watch the setting sunflame over the crest of the hills and the narrow river shake off itsworkaday dress and go racing into the shadows of the woods. Poor Moira, years of heartbreaking work and worry had not changed her very much fromthe girl who had liked to lie in the deep sweet grass of her dearIreland and let her fancy follow the winging birds into a land ofdreams. 

The other window of the tiny living room looked out directly upon themuddy road, across to the freight tracks. 

It was to this window that Moira Lynch ran now, peering as far up theroad 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 Lynchanswered testily. "You're always fussing. If it isn't the girl it's overDale. "

Mrs. Moira ignored the edge of crossness in her Danny's voice. She wentto him, smoothed the spotless cushion at his back and put a freshmagazine on his table. 

"It's a silly, worryin' hen I am, " she laughed. (But, oh, her laugh wasa tragic thing, for while her lips curved in a smile her eyes shadowedat 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 uponthem. 

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 myeyes on you. Two hours late you are, Beryl. "

Beryl welcomed this reproach as it gave her an opportunity to impart hergood news in an impressive way. 

"I couldn't get away a minute sooner. I've a new position. " She wasgoing to say "job" but it did not seem fitting. 

"What? Without so much as a word to your father and mother? And did thelikes 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, slippedoff her outer wraps, threw them into a chair, kissed her father lightlyon his cheek, perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to tell thestory of Gordon Forsyth's coming to Gray Manor while her mother listenedwith 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. Shedoesn't get at all excited over her new clothes and bossing those oldfogeys around and ordering her motor any minute she wants it. She thinksthe 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'salways pretending things are different from what they are and givingthem names. She calls old Budge the wicked woman who wanted to eat thetwo children, " Beryl giggled. "And she calls the Mills a Giant. "

Moira Lynch's face beamed with joyous understanding. Here was afellow-soul, "funny" like herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for whomblack 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 themoment, supper was neglected. Not long, however; the striking of theclock reminded her that in a very few minutes Dale would be home, hungry. Her mission in life, next to tending her big Danny, was feedingher two children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite dessert, abread pudding, the eggs for which she had carefully hoarded duringseveral days' denial. Beryl, keeping up a running fire of talk, spreadthe 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 Dannyupon 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 ofanyone ever trying to help me. "

Like a flash the little mother was between the two, a soothing hand onthe father's shoulder. 

"Now don't you two be a-spoiling this night, " she laughed a bithysterically. "Of course our girl's going to be too fine for anyone, butit's always a-loving she'll be to her Dad and her Mommy. " She declaredit with an ardent triumph. This mother who had once dreamed things forherself dreamed them now for her boy and girl. From Beryl's infancy shehad taught her to want "fine things. " And Beryl wanted them with allher heart and, with youth's selfishness, wanted them for herself, alone. 

After her father's taunt, Beryl, with sullen resentment, locked her lipson her other pleasant experiences. Nor would she tell now how Robin hadwritten to her guardian to send down a real violin for her to practiceupon, or what fun it was to study with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose earswere distractingly like Brussels sprouts. And that she learned much, much faster than Robin did! Poor Robin was always wondering the why ofeverything. 

Her mother suddenly exclaimed: "It's Father Murphy's beads you shallwear this night, my girl. Didn't the good soul, God rest him, give themwith his blessing? Watch the potatoes while I get them. "

Moira's beads had always played a significant part in her life. Theymarked what she called her "blessings. " Without doubt the rare brightspots 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 seemedto turn upside down until it rested, full-weight, upon her poorshoulders, her "blessing" had been Miss Lewis at the settlement. MissLewis had given her work so that she could earn money to feed herfamily; Miss Lewis had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had foundcheaper lodgings and had helped her make them homelike. Another blessinghad been Jacques Henri, the old Belgian who lived above them and whoseviolin 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 eagerfingers. Later he had come down to supper with them and Beryl had playeda "piece" for her Pop, wearing the beads in honor of the occasion. WhenBeryl had graduated from the graded school she had stood as classprophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, among them Dale andherself--wearing the green beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy werethere to see her girl. 

She clasped them around the girl's neck now with fingers that trembledand eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. Duringthe 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. Howgoes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and everyone in a rush, from the savory supper to the invalid father whose face had brightenedat 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 didnot seem at all impressed and Beryl was disappointed. He said he hadheard 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. Hescowled 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 tenderand 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 himhis precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he hadbeen 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 andyou'll love it, " he said with such scorn that Beryl turned hot and coldin speechless anger. 

"Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we know the poor littlething, " begged his mother. 

But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing the beads, all joy for themoment had fled. She had particularly wanted to impress Dale with hergood fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak scathingly andbitterly of the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness ofthings in general, but she had paid little attention to it and couldnot, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin. When he met Robin, he'dunderstand--and while Dale ate ravenously and talked to his fatherbetween mouthfuls, she planned how she would bring Robin to supper thevery next time she came home, despite her vow that she would never letRobin 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 ofstrings and spools and little wooden wheels he had made and which he andhis father "played with" each evening. Beryl had often wondered why Daleseemed to care so much about it; why he spent hours and hours drawingand figuring on bits of paper. Of course it amused the father, who, during the day, cut the spools into tiny wheels, with a sharpjack-knife; but it must be stupid for Dale to spend all of his eveningsover the silly thing. Beryl often lounged on the back of his chair andlistened to discover whether there was any part of the game she mightlike. 

Tonight Dale's interest seemed forced. 

"If I could just find out what's needed _here_--" he growled, touchingthe delicate contrivance. "That's the way! While I'm racking my poor oldnut, 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 hadthe 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 themoney to have the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use oftalking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm thinking about it all thetime. Say, Mom, can I bring Adam Kraus over to supper some night? Hesaid 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 firstimpressed the neighborhood somewhat unfavorably, for he encouraged asuggestion of mystery, lived at the Inn, kept aloof from everyone, andseemed to have no family. Moira's own quick thought of him when Dale hadpointed him out on the road in front of the Mill store was that "helooked too white for a working man. " But he seemed to have singled Daleout for his advances; Dale thought he was a good sort and had met himmore than half-way; Dale who had had to work too hard by day and studyat night to make any close friendships. Whether she liked him or not, heshould have the best she could offer. 

"_I'm_ going to bring Robin--I mean, Miss Forsyth, down here the nexttime _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 bitof the fruit cake with real butter sauce. " Wasn't she going to get hercheck soon from the store to which she sent her lace?

So Beryl forgot her vexation and Dale his problem with his wooden toy inpleasant anticipation of the "dinner party, " as Mrs. Moira grandlycalled it, out of respect to the pot roast and the fruit cake which MissLewis had sent them and which was hidden away in a huge crock in theshed. 

"Mom, can't I take the beads back with me? They're so pretty and Ihaven't a thing that's nice, " begged Beryl as the moment for her toreturn 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 shealways have that picture blazed in her heart of the moment when with herviolin she would hold enthralled her unappreciative family and thousandsof 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 anythingthey wanted that was hers, she hesitated now, not from reluctance topart with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent pastcame the old father's words: "They are only beads. But they'll remindyou of this day. " She had been seventeen then--a slip of a girl. Berylwas almost sixteen now. 

"The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they are!" she laughed, with alittle 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 ofRobin's sitting-room. Not in a tone of complaint did she speak, ratheras though weighing which pastime would be most worthy of the unexpectedholiday. 

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 welcomethat something. "It's all gray and mysterious. The hills look awfullyfar away. It's lonesomey. "

Robin looked anxiously to her companion. _She_ did not feel lonesome atall. This room, where they ate their breakfast each morning at Harkness'suggestion, was cosy and full of inviting books and pretty pictures andcomfy chairs; Harkness was ever so nice and concerned as to theircomfort, they were as secure from Mrs. Budge's hostility as thick wallsand Harkness' vigilance could make them and--best of all, a letter fromher Jimmie, full of Mr. Tony's plans and their contemplated sailing, layclose 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 likethe wind, " answered Beryl promptly. 

This suggestion appealed to Robin, who, although she didn't like to "golike the wind, " never tired of riding among the hills. She wentimmediately with Beryl to find Williams, the chauffeur. Williams, likethe others around the Manor, with the exception of Mrs. Budge, hadfallen under Robin's spell and was enjoying the stir that her comingbrought to the old house. So he declared, now, that it would be a "niceday for a run" and they could take the Cornwall road, because there wasa 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 notfeel for one moment that she was living on Robin's charity and were mostof them quite unnecessary and little things that Robin would really liketo do herself. However Beryl was too proudly intent upon saving herpride to realize this and Robin, instinctively understanding, let herhave her way. 

Finally started, the girls snuggled close together in the car, holdinghands under the big robe. And, as they sped over the smooth road, eachlet her thoughts take wings. Beryl's, with the honest self-centrednessthat was characteristic of her, fluttered about herself. How she lookedin this peachy car--how she'd love to steer it and just step on the gasand fly; some day, when she was famous, she'd have a car like this onlymuch bigger and painted yellow and she'd take Mom and Pop out and gothrough the Mill neighborhood so that that gossipy Mrs. Whaley who hadcalled 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 Robinhad never wanted any one big thing, like she did. 

Robin, beside her, sat in cosy contentment--mainly because of herprecious letter. She drew a mental picture of her Jimmie, sailing away. Then her thoughts came back to the gray hills and she wished her fathermight see them at that moment, so as to paint them. He would loveWassumsic, 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 betweenthe dingy buildings and the freight yards when they might have builtthem where each window could have overlooked the climbing fields andwoods, where the children could have played in sweet grass the livelongday and built beautiful snow forts when it was winter. 

Beryl suddenly broke the silence by a gleeful "Isn't this fun?" asWilliams coasted down a long grade with a breath-catching accelerationof speed. 

The wind had whipped a fine color into the girls' cheeks, the changingscenes about them were of untiring interest; they exclaimed delightedlyover each curve and hill in the road, each tiny hamlet through whichthey passed. All too soon, they reached Cornwall and started on thehomeward way. 

At the top of a steep hill Williams slowed down to slip the gear intosecond. In the valley below them was a collection of unpainted houses, leaning towards one another as though for protection against the growingthings about them. 

"The Forgotten Village!" cried Robin. "Don't you feel just as though wemight tumble over into it?"

"A good place to drive right _through_, " Williams answered with ascornful laugh. 

Alas, poor Williams--he brought the car skilfully and safely down thedifficult hill only to have it stop, with a reproachful snort, in thevery heart of the little village. 

"What's the matter?" asked the girls in one breath as Williams, with anexplosive 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 knowwhat gas is in these parts. You sit in the car while I ask someone, MissForsyth. "

"You wanted something to happen, Beryl, " laughed Robin, as Williamswalked 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 thenext town--unless he was lucky enough to meet someone who'd help himout. 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 thewhole thing. 

Neither Robin nor Beryl had the slightest intention of waiting in thefunny little store where the crackers and tea and coffee looked as oldas the old man who came out from behind the counter at their approach. They waited until Williams had disappeared, then went forth to explorethe Forgotten Village. Unabashed, they stared at the weather-beatenhouses, at the old woman, a faded shawl tied around her head, washingclothes at a pump, at the hideous square of dingy brick which served asschool house and church, its window frames stuffed here and there withrags, a pathetic sign upon which was printed "library, " hanging crazilyby one nail. 

Beyond the church stood an old mill, its roof tumbled in. Exploring itthe girls heard the sound of tumbling water and discovered a streambreaking its way through thick undergrowth. A lane, marked by two wagonruts, 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 inNovember, for the ghostly gray branches of old trees met and interlockedclose overhead, fir trees, mingling with the silver white trunks ofslender birches, walled it either side, a whirring of invisible wingsadded to its apartness and the little stream, tumbling its way, soundedlike 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 alow square house. And as they drew nearer, walking stealthily, theystared in amazement. For, unlike its neighbors in the village below, this house was as white as fresh white paint could make it, at thewindows hung crisply white curtains, a brass knocker dignified its broaddoor. 

Robin, always imaginative, clutched Beryl's arm with a breathlessgiggle. "Beryl, it's like the house of bread and cake with the windowpanes 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 waterso's to see the inside. "

Robin did not think it was just nice to deliberately intrude upon theprivacy 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, absurdlylike the witch of the fairy story, confronted the girls, Beryl stoodtongue-tied and Robin had to come to the rescue. 

"Can we--if you please, we had an accident--I mean, we went for awalk--oh, _may_ we have a drink of water?" she floundered, fairlyblinking before the sharply piercing eyes of the woman in the door. 

"Who is it, Brina?" came from within, whereupon the woman answered inrapid German, her head turned backward over her shoulder, her hand stillon the doorknob. 

"Shame on you, Brina. They are two children--lost, perhaps. Let themcome in. "

The room was disappointingly like any other old country-house livingroom; scrupulously clean and shining, a wide fireplace aglow with a woodfire that cast bright splotches of color over the low walls, the fadedrag rugs, the piece-work cushions on the old wooden settle. 

Close to its warmth sat a white-haired woman, one long thin handsupporting 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 wassomething frightening about the silent, composed figure and theintentness with which those shadowed eyes scrutinized her. While Robintalked, Beryl swiftly surveyed the room and its occupants, not least ofwhich was a great St. Bernard dog, that, after one "gr'f'f" leanedagainst his mistress' chair and regarded the intruders with watchfuleyes 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 andenticed him to strange deeds. 

The smile worked its spell at least on the dog for he moved slowly overto her, lifted a big paw and placed it gravely upon her shoulder. 

"Cæsar declares you a friend, " said the woman in a slow, low-pitchedvoice. "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 thesettle 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 thislane--and all. No one would ever dream from the road that this house washere. Has it a name? First I called it the House of Bread and Cake andSugar--like the fairy story, but it ought to be called the House ofRushing Waters, hadn't it?"

"That will do--very nicely. No, no one would know from the road that thehouse stands here. "

But when Robin ventured: "Aren't you ever lonely?" there was aperceptible 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 somethinking 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'tthink for a moment she belongs 'round here, in the same town with thatold cheese down at the store?"

Robin admitted that everything about her House of Rushing Waters wasvery different from the Forgotten Village. 

"Wasn't that Brina just like a witch with her parrot nose and sharpeyes?"

But Beryl had no patience just now with Robin's beloved fairy lore. Twolittle 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 itis? Whether she's hiding there on account of something or someone'skeeping her a prisoner? Maybe--" Beryl lowered her voice, "maybe she'scrazy. "

"Oh, Beryl, she didn't act a bit crazy. Just very sad. She was nice. Ithought the room was lovely, too--and the lunch and that darling dog. "Robin had thoroughly enjoyed the simple hospitality and meant to defendit. 

"Of course the room was nice, " Beryl felt that she showed much patiencewith Robin's obtuseness, "but didn't you see anything _different_ inthat room? Books and magazines! Country people don't sit and readmagazines 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 havenoticed half of them. "

Beryl tossed her head with pride. "Nothing much escapes _me_, " sheboasted. "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 placeuntil we unravel the mystery. "

Robin hesitated. "She was so nice to us and it's really none of ourbusiness why she's there or who she is--" she argued so staunchly thatBeryl put in hastily: "Well, let's just have it a secret becausesecrets 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 theirdisappearance and annoyed at the delay. He had walked many miles inpayment for his carelessness. 

As they rushed homeward, both girls thought of the house they had leftand its lonely occupant. 

"Wouldn't wonder a _bit_ if she might be some royalty person hiding herefrom anarchists, " whispered Beryl, with a burst of imagination, amazingfor 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 isand all about her. "

"_I'd_ just like to see her again and that darling dog. If she doesn'twant to tell us who she is I don't want her to! It's more fun to pretendthat 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 anewspaper under Robin's nose with an expressive "There, read _that_!" atthe same time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph. 

The paragraph told of the mysterious disappearance of its Dowager Queenfrom the little warring Balkan kingdom of Altruria. 

"She could be in this country as well as not. I read a book once where aDuke hid for five years right in the heart of New York and then met hisheir 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 otherlanguage?"

Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers don't. They talk ever so manytongues. English as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You justwait. "

CHAPTER XI

POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD

The following Wednesday had been set for Mrs. Lynch's dinner of "potroast and cabbage salad. "

"You'll think we're awfully poor, Robin, when you see that mean oldcottage, " Beryl complained as the girls were dressing for the dinner. 

Robin, hesitating between a Madonna blue and a yellow dress, turnedquickly at the tone in Beryl's voice. 

"Oh, Beryl, what difference does your house make! I want to know yourmother and your father and--Dale. "

"Well, there's no use your dressing up--it'll just make everything elsethere look absurdly shabby. "

Robin laid the garment she held down upon the bed. A puzzled lookdarkened the glow in her eyes. There were a great many times when shefound it difficult to understand Beryl's changing moods. She herself wastoo indifferent to clothes to know that it was the two pretty gowns shehad brought out from her wardrobe that had now sent Beryl into thedumps. 

"I won't dress up, Beryl. I just thought your mother would like to haveme--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 inthe 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 crazyto meet her and I know I'm going to love your father and I never talkedto a boy in my whole life except in school when I had to! There!" Robinstopped for very lack of breath. 

This unexpected show of spirit, so unlike Robin's usual gentleness, tookBeryl back. Fond as she was of her mother she had never thought of heras 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 Ihaven't anything except that old gray thing that's just tottering withage. What a joke to call Dale a boy! Why, he's never been a boy, becausehe's worked so hard for everything. "

"Well, I'm glad I'm going to meet him, anyway. " Robin spoke withexcitement. It did not matter at all what she wore--without a moment'shesitation she put away the blue and the yellow dress and brought forththe mouse colored jersey she had worn when she arrived at GrayManor--she was going to meet Beryl's family. Robin, who had never hadany family except "Jimmie, " imagined beautiful things of family life, mostly colored by books she had read and pictures she had seen. Brotherswere always big strong fellows who sometimes teased their youngersisters but were always ready with a helping hand; fathers--well, sheknew about fathers, having had Jimmie, but Beryl's father must be verydifferent because of his accident. It was "Mom" that she most wanted toknow. She hoped Beryl's mother would kiss her. At the thought her heartgave a quick little beat. 

When Percival Tubbs, to whom Harkness, uncertain as to the propriety ofa Forsyth dining at one of the Mill cottages had appealed, had mildlyendeavored to point out to Robin that this dinner-party was not exactly"fitting, " Robin had simply not been able to understand and had answeredso honestly: "Why, just because I'm a Forsyth doesn't make me a bitbetter than those people who work in the Mills, does it?" That Mr. Tubbshad 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 metMrs. Budge's scorn of the whole "goings-on" with a grand defense of hislittle mistress: "Some lydies in 'igh places distribute their bounty inbaskets 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 'appierway, " and Budge knew he was very much in earnest because he forgot hish's, a little trick of speech he had long ago overcome. 

For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress, Beryl brought forthher green beads. Robin exclaimed over them, taking them out of Beryl'shand 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'senthusiasm but half-suspected it might be "put on" in order to make upto her for the things she did not have. "They do look nice on thisdress, though, don't they?" She laid them against her neck and staredwith 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 fromtwo of Miss Lewis' old dresses; her fluttering hands alone betrayed hernervousness and her fears that though the most tempting smells came fromthe stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little Miss Forsythand for Dale's new friend, too. 

However, when Robin came into the room with Beryl she looked soappealingly small that Mrs. Lynch promptly forgot she was a Forsyth andthat the dinner might not be good enough and put her arms around her andkissed her. And Robin with an impulsive movement snuggled closer to thewarm embrace. 

"Why, it's a mite of a thing you are, " cried Mrs. Moira with the singingnote in her voice that always came when she was deeply moved. "Andhungry, I hope. Well, Dale will be here in a moment and then we'll dishup. "

Then everything was just like Robin had hoped it would be. Beryl'smother called them "children" and let them help her with the finishingtouches 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 spaceinto which so much had to be crowded, the cracked shade on the lamp, thedingy carpeting that held together through some kind miracle, she onlythought it cosy and homey; she liked the queer old clock and the bluebowl filled with artificial jonquils and the crocheted "tidies" withdogs designed in intricate stitches. 

"Here's Dale!" whispered Beryl. "I'm crazy to meet his friend. I'm goingto 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 Dalewith round, puzzled eyes. Had she ever seen him before? When Berylturned suddenly and said: "Dale, this is Gordon Forsyth, " she hoped hewould say: "Why, I know her. " However, he merely mumbled "How do youdo, " stiffly, and turned away, to Beryl's indignation and Robin's vaguedisappointment. 

The pot roast and the cabbage salad were as delicious as Mrs. Moira'sloving pains could make them; Dale's friend talked mostly to big Dannyand Mrs. Moira listened and Dale occasionally put in a word. Over herplate Robin watched first one and then another, her eyes invariablycoming back to Dale's face. Beryl, annoyed that no one noticed her andRobin and treated them "as though they were just children, " ateravenously, in dignified silence. 

The talk centered about the Mills. Adam Kraus freely ridiculed theForsyth methods. "They're miles behind the times, " he declared andcompared them glibly with other similar industries. "Old Norris belongsto 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 hisfather. 

"And look at the way they house the mill hands here, putting a fellowlike Dale with his cleanness and his brains and his possibilities, intoa dump like this. They don't recognize the human element in industriesof this sort or what it's worth to them. Why, there's no argument anymore as to the increased efficiency from giving better livingconditions--but I'll bet Norris hasn't heard of it. "

"We haven't been here long enough to know--" Mrs. Lynch began gently butDale interrupted her, his voice rough. 

"It isn't Norris alone, Adam. You've got to go further up--it's theHouse of Forsyth. They're feudal lords--or like to think they are. Doyou suppose it mattered much up there, when the little Castle girl hadher arm crushed in that old wheel last month and died because her bodywasn't nourished enough to stand under the amputation? A lot theycared--just one bit of machinery gone for a day--another--"

"_Dale_--" cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed embarrassment, and suddenlyeveryone looked at Robin. 

Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and Dale with deep interest. Itwas not until Mrs. Lynch exclaimed and all eyes turned in her directionthat she connected what they were saying with her own self. Under Dale'ssudden scrutiny she flushed. 

"I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth. " But this was so far froman apology that Mrs. Lynch looked more distressed than before and Berylglared at her brother. 

"Oh, _please_ don't mind me, " begged Robin. _She_ was glad Dale did notsay 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 shehated them and that Cornelius Allendyce had told her she should look fora Jack who could climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of thestranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell me all aboutthe--the Castle girl?"

"There isn't much to tell about her that's different from ninety-nineother cases. She was supporting a younger brother and sister. Thebrother's only twelve years old but he had to go to work--said he wassixteen. 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 asmuch 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 gowith you. It's from my own county they say the grandmother comes andlikely she'll know some of the old people. "

"Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep pools reflectingstarlight. "I'd like to know _everyone_ here in the village and whatthey do. Perhaps the--the other Forsyths wanted to really know the Millpeople, too, only they--they've been so unhappy. But I'm different, yousee--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 andsaid: "You _are_ a little thing, aren't you?"

At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin with such suddennessthat a breathless "oh" escaped her parted lips. A dark night and lonelystreets, a chill wind cutting her face, an iron fence enclosing adeserted triangle of dead grass and filthy papers--a kind voice tellingher not to cry--of course, her Prince! She peeped almost fearfully atDale who was joking with Beryl. _He_ did not know--he had forgotten, ofcourse. He had been a big boy, then, and he had not gone on playing thelittle game the way she had. How wonderful, how _very_ wonderful, tofind him. And Beryl's brother! She did not mind at all what he had saidabout 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 satat her board, shaping, moulding, gathering and weaving the threads oflife, golden and drab. 

To Beryl's disgust, after the meal Dale brought forth his "toy. " ButAdam Kraus, instead of showing the boredom which Beryl expected, studiedit 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 thingout 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 canmake it do what you say you can--would be worth to these mills. It wouldlift them out of the boneyard of antiquity and put them fifty yearsahead of their competitors. Why, I'll bet Granger's would give you acool twenty thousand for that just as it stands. It would serve Norrisright, 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 thingout 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'sdisappointment. 

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 desperatelyto voice the fear that had shaped in her heart; Grangers taking thisfunny wooden thing that Mr. Kraus said was worth so much, and Dale goingaway from Wassumsic, and Dale's mother--and Beryl. 

"You just bet I would, " and Dale laughed. "But don't worry, we won't begoing for a while. "

Robin had so much to think about that night that she could not go tosleep. She did not want to go to sleep. Up to this day she had beenjust little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin, " at Gray Manor to let Jimmiehave his chance; happy, because Jimmie was having his chance and Berylwas with her and Beryl was unfailingly interesting. 

Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just "anything. " A Forsythought to care about those awful Mills, that were in some sort of a"boneyard, " and about the people who worked in them--especially poorSarah Castle's brother and sister. And there were probably many otherboys 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 yourbrother'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 ofDale's at this hour? Why should _you_ care?" Beryl sank back into herpillows and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most glorious eyes?"

Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, I hated his eyes. Theywere not true eyes. But--I like Dale--lots. " And just here, for thesecond time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for Dale mustnever 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 whileBeryl snuggled her sleepy head back into her pillow, she stared at thethin shaft of light that shone under the door and wished she was biginstead of "a little bit of a thing" and very wise so that she wouldknow 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 hismind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. Hisassociates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him andthey often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pullinghimself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far fromfields of law. 

Cornelius Allendyce _did_ feel pleased with himself. How many men wouldhave dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it hadall turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest, " living in her past, her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and littleRobin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned outso surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking, in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth. " Only he did not wantto--he liked to think it all over. 

Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human raceof which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were allalike--pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves likekittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He knew absolutely nothing ofthe fearless, honest, open-air girls, with hearts and souls as straightand clean as their healthy young bodies or that there were legions likelittle Robin and Beryl who, because they had been cheated of much thatwent to the making of these others, stood as a type apart. He onlythought--as he went over the whole thing--that Robin's Jimmie was toblame for her being "different, " leaving her alone so much and lettingher take responsibilities way over her head; now she would enjoy thegirlish pleasures that were her due. His sister Effie had supplied herwith everything in the way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want;Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs would go light withthe school work--he had certainly made a point of _that_, and, when hecould run up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little companionRobin had adopted. If she were not all that she ought to be (Miss Effiehad somewhat disturbed him on this point) why, a change could be made;someone a little older and more cultured (Miss Effie's word) could besent up from New York. 

Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, enjoyed at intervals in hiswork, 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 topolish his glasses as though they must be at fault. "What does thismean?" he exclaimed over and over. "What's up?"

Why on earth was Robin worrying her little head over the Mills andtalking 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 andBeryl 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 soughtout Miss Effie--who, having been a girl, once, herself, ought to knowsomething of the vagaries of a girl's mind. 

Miss Effie felt very proud that her brother cared anything for heropinion. She nodded wisely and smiled reassuringly. 

"Girl notions--that's all. Don't worry over the foibles of growinggirls. It's one thing today and something else tomorrow. "

The guardian was not so easily reassured. "But Robin isn't like othergirls--" he began, with a disturbing recollection of Robin'shighhandedness in engaging a companion. 

"Tush! Bosh!" Miss Effie would not let him go on. "Girls are all alikeunder their skins. This poor kiddie's been starved for nice things andher sudden good fortune's gone to her head. She doesn't know the valueof money, either; what'd seem big to her would be carfare for you. Giveher 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 totouch the lives of others. In spite of their uncertain living she andJimmie were of a sociable sort--he ought not to have expected that shewould 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'sexpecting something of the sort, anyway. I suppose it ought to be rathersimple--she's so young and Madame Forsyth being away. I'll raise thechild'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 letterinto his pocket. He would write to her the next day and to PercivalTubbs. He ought to have consulted his sister sooner. Well, a guardianlearned something new every day, he told himself, with a smile. 

 * * * * *

No one had suspected the torment of thought that racked poor Robin'shead for the few days following the dinner-party. She had arisen thatnext morning with the firm resolve to "be" a Forsyth, but she did notknow 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 hadanswered her persistent questioning absentmindedly. However, unknowingly, she did give two helpful hints, upon which Robin seizedgratefully. 

"Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have is a clubhouse like MissLewis' place in New York. Mother took care of that, you know. Miss Lewisis a wonder. She always declared children need fun just the way theyneed milk and _she_ fixed it so that they got both. "

"Oh, yes, there are ever so many boys and girls in Wassumsic onlythey're mostly working in the Mills. I'd have to work there myself onlyI've made Dale believe that I can do something--else. If I ever startedin the old Mills I'd be like the others. That's the way--you begin andthen 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 wonderfulviolinist 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 savingjust enough out of my pay envelope to buy me a hair-net but I wouldn'tbegin! I wouldn't! They can all call me proud and lazy but I'll showthem--old Henri Jacques and Martini himself said I would! But I've hadto fight to make people believe me--and I s'pose I'll have to go onfighting. " To the egotism of sixteen years these words sounded verygrand; it stirred Beryl to think she had fought for every advantage thatwas hers, to read the admiration in Robin's eyes. She had no thought ofdisloyalty in claiming the credit that really belonged to the littlemother who had dreamed the dream first for her girl and then, throughyears 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 tranceof rapture that left Robin to her own pursuits. Only once the quitehuman thought flashed to her mind that Beryl might be a little bitinterested in what _she_ wanted to do but she put it away as unworthyfor, 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 talkto Mrs. Lynch who was so startled at her unexpected coming that shekissed her and called her "little Robin" before she realized what shewas doing. That, and the fact that she found Mrs. Lynch working in theshed where big Danny could not hear them, made it much easier for Robinto talk and talk she did, so rapidly and so imploringly that Mrs. Moirahad to interject more than once: "Now wait a bit, dearie. What was thatagain?"

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 tellyou 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 goafternoons. "

Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy brick building as theschoolhouse. It had a play-yard enclosed on three sides with a highboard 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 bitof sewing maybe and some have beaux and they walk down to the drug storeand hang around there visiting, though Beryl doesn't. 'Tisn't much of alife a girl in a place like this has, " and Mrs. Moira's sigh was happilyreminiscent of her own girlhood in open clean spaces, "it's old theygrow 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 theyhaven'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 darkcorners. "

"Mrs. Lynch, if--if--someone started the fun for the girls--would theylike it?"

"Why, what's on your mind, dearie? The likes of you worryin' your littlehead over things you don't know anything about!"

Robin could have cried with vexation. She _must_ make Mrs. Lynchunderstand her--Mrs. Lynch was her one hope. She gave a little stamp ofher foot as she burst out: "I'm little but that's no reason I can'tthink of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that the Forsyth's didn't careand they ought to care--and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone inthe Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they do. And I wantthem to have--fun. Beryl said your Miss Lewis said everyone ought tohave 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 blessedheart of her, she doesn't even know what she's talking about, poorlamb, " 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 forme to think just what to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head andthen I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about them--I justhave to feel them. I'd like to begin with the little children. If myguardian says we may, can't we open that old cottage down by the bridgeand make it into a--a sort of play-house? There could be a play-yard andnext spring we could make gardens and we could fix one room up withpretty pictures and have books and games--and a fireplace andwindow-seats. Oh, _does_ that sound silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasmto an abrupt, imploring finish. 

"Dearie me--no. " There were no reserves in Mrs. Moira's approval. Withan imagination as quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage--it was acharming old house, snuggled under elms, half-covered in summer withrambling vines and pink blossoms--alive with romping, happy-voicedchildren, some poring over pretty picture-books, others listening to astory, some working in a garden--some just tumbling about on the softgrass in a pure exuberance of youthful joy. 

"We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always think of names beforeanything else. And maybe, some day, the older girls--girls like me--willuse 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 whereSusy lived. 

"I'll come down right after our school work is over. Beryl won't mindbecause she'll want to practice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tellDale, will you?"

Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already she had been looking forward totelling Dale about Robin and her plans. But Robin stood firm. 

"You see I may spoil everything and he'd think I was just stupid. Idon't want him to know--yet. "

Robin walked back to the Manor with a light heart. Her world that hadalways seemed so small, bounded on its every side by Jimmie, nowsuddenly assumed limitless proportions and beautiful possibilities. There was so much to be done and so much to think about. Tomorrow shewould see Susy Castle; maybe other boys and girls. 

Lights were twinkling from some of the windows of the Manor. Robinpaused for a moment at the bottom of the long ascent to "love" the Manorin its purple cloak of gathering dusk. That first Forsyth who had brokenground for this gray pile had chosen well; the hill upon which the househad been built stood apart from the other hills, loftily commanding thevillage and valley. 

"It looks just like a grand old lady holding off her skirts so's not totouch anything, " Robin thought, now, whimsically. 

As though to crown her day's progress toward "being" a Forsyth, Robinfound a letter from her guardian awaiting her. Cornelius Allendyce hadwritten 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'lldo 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_ theForsyth's Mills. It had had its beginning in that first small mill wherethe first Forsyth worked in his shirt-sleeves; a cluster of houses hadsprung up close to the river, a store, more houses, more stores, atavern, 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 fromcontamination. And that lofty apartness had always been the attitude ofthe Forsyth family to the workaday life in the village. 

The growth of the village had been toward the railroad so that the firstMill houses had been left by themselves "up the river" and were commonlyknown as the "old village. " They were so old that they were not worthkeeping in repair and so close to the river that they were damp the yearround and for these very good reasons were offered to the mill workersat a low rental. Many of the mill workers--such as Dale--looked uponthem as a disgrace to the Mills and felt a hot anger in their heartswhen they thought of them--but unfortunates like the Castles were gladto move into the worst of them. 

The short walk from the Mills to the old village skirted the river andwas 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 theystopped before a low cottage, one window nailed across with boards wherethe panes were missing, the front door propped in place by a rottingrail tie, tin cans and frozen refuse littering the strip of yard, andMrs. Lynch said "This is the house, " she wanted to cry out in protest atthe ugliness. They had to pick their way around to a back door uponwhich Mrs. Lynch knocked. Several moments elapsed before the door swungback a little way, a round black eye peered at them cautiously, and ashrill voice piped "whachy'want?"

"I s'pose that's Susy, " thought Robin, her heart skipping a beat with aterror 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 roomfrom the bright sunshine outside, stumbled over a chair and in herconfusion mumbled some incoherent answer to the shrill cackle of welcomethat came from the shrunken bit of humanity bending over a small stove. 

"Poor Granny doesn't understand who you are, " explained Mrs. Lynch, inan apologetic whisper, touching her head significantly. "Come here, Susy, " and she motioned the staring child to her. Susy approached withthe hang-back step of a child or a dog not always certain of what he mayget 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 tatteredFirst Reader lay on the greasy floor, unwashed dishes cluttered the barepine table, on every available shelf and in every corner were piled oldcans and bottles and half-filled paper bags. On a what-not in the cornera faded bunch of pink paper roses drooped over a cracked vase. Thewallpaper, its ugly pattern mercifully faded, was fantastically streakedfrom the dampness, in one corner the ceiling plaster had fallen andnewspapers had been tacked over the laths to keep out the cold. 

A sickening revulsion, a longing to escape into the sweet crisp airswept Robin. She shrank away into a corner for fear the dreadful oldGranny might touch her. But she _must_ say something! She had come herefor a purpose--to know Susy. 

At that moment Susy's voice pealed out in a merry, piping laugh--becauseshe had put her small finger into her cookie and pulled out a fat roundcurrant! And something in the laugh touched the spark to the motheringinstinct strong in Robin's young heart--the mothering instinct that hadcaused her bitter anguish over Cynthia's loss, that had taught her howto care for her Jimmie, and had given her strength to run away from herJimmie that he might have his "chance. " She forgot the dirtysurroundings, the old Granny in her rags and her crown of wispy grayhair, she saw only the child's face, lightened with joy, and laughedwith Susy as Susy held out the currant on the end of an uplifted--andvery dirty--finger. 

The ice broken, Susy made friends quickly. She leaned her thin littleself 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; toher she was "a big girl" and big girls did not come to the house nowthat Sarah had died. She timidly touched Robin's soft coat sleeve with arough, 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, brokenaway from Susy's clinging and Granny's childish lamentations, and werewalking back through the "cathedral aisle" Robin gave herself a littleshake 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'tbe 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 ofher 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 beentaken instead of that poor Sarah. Things weren't so bad for them whenSarah lived--they say. She was an up-and-doing girl and kept things nicethough she had to work hard to do it, poor little thing. It's in thehospital that old woman should be with some one to wait on her and keepher warm. No one but little Susy--"

"I forgot all I'd planned to say! Susy looked so cold, Mrs. Lynch. Ihated my nice warm clothes. "

"Oh, Susy was warm enough. She's a bright child, she is. When she's abit older things will ease up. "

Robin remembered what Beryl had said of the girls in Wassumsic havingnothing else to do but go into the Mills. Susy would grow older and takeSarah's place. But what if she didn't want to? What happened to the "biggirls" who didn't want to go into the Mills? Robin could hear Beryl'scontemptuous: "Why they haven't a chance in the world. " Well, anyway, someone could make the Mills so nice that the girls would _want_ to workin 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 asensitive little thing like Miss Robin to poor old Granny Castle's. 

"Now, dearie, don't you worry. Things come out somehow--in the nextworld maybe for the Granny Castles, but they do. Now that idea of yoursof fixing that cottage--"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! My guardian says I may. At least he said thatif I wanted a club, to help myself, and that must mean he consents. He'sa dear. Have you time to go there with me now and just peek into it? I'msure we can get in. "

"I'll take the time, " cried Mrs. Moira with an interest as eager asRobin's. "I'll just drop in and tell my Danny when we go past--it's solonesome he gets when I'm slow coming. "

Robin's House of Laughter looked a little deserted standing alone in theshadow of the hillside, gaunt branches creaking over its low roof, theends of the trailing vines whipping restlessly against the grayclapboards. But Robin and Mrs. Lynch saw it as they wanted it tobe--neatly painted, its windows curtained, its yard trimmed, itsdoorstep dignified by a broad inviting step, and flanked by a trellisfor the rambling rose vine. The door opened for them in the mostpromising way and they tiptoed into a big bare room with two windows atone end looking out over the hills and river. 

"Isn't this nice?" cried Robin in delighted staccato. "It's just madefor what we want. Look--a fireplace!" To be sure, it was nothing morethan a gap in the wall. "And these darling windows. We can put a seatway across, all comfy. " She promptly saw, in her mind, Susy curled uponit with a beautiful picture book and a handful of cookies. "Oh, let'ssee 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 MissLewis she saw possibilities way beyond Robin's eager planning--classrooms where the older girls could learn other trades--a domestic scienceclass in the kitchen for the mothers--a sewing room, a library full ofinstructive and entertaining books, and the big living room where thechildren could gather after school hours, and the men and women and bigboys and girls in the evening. And a playground outside--and gardens. 

"Can't we fix it up right away?" Robin's eager questioning brought hersharply out of her dream to a practical realization that all the Houseof 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, sweepingthe bare rooms with an appraising eye. "That stove's good as new underthe 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 theadded tax it must be on her energy. "It's a beginning everything has tohave and you get your Harkness man and some brooms and some soap andwe'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 encouragementpoured out her precious plans. Beryl obediently listened but with an oddsurprise tugging at her attentiveness--this Robin seemed different, fullof a fire that was quite new, and all over fixing up that old place forthe Mill kids. To Beryl, wrapped in her own precious ambition, thatseemed 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. "Iheard him talking to Harkness about a party. Your guardian's written tohim, I guess. "

"Oh, _dear_!" cried Robin, in dismay. She remembered what Mr. Allendycehad written to her. A party would be terrible!

"I should think you'd think it was fun--and with all your prettyclothes. It's exciting meeting people, too. If _I_ were you--"

Beryl simply wouldn't finish--there were so many things she would do ifshe 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 flatteredthat 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. Ithink 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 thingsyou never did before, " reminded Beryl, a comical sternness edging hervoice. 

An hour before, in her empty House of Laughter, poor Robin had thrilledat the thought of "being" a Forsyth; now, alas, her heart sank to herboots under the weight of these new obligations she must face. Nor wasshe cheered when Mr. Tubbs found her and laid his plans before her. Mr. Tubbs, short of memory, always carried his thoughts on neat little slipsof paper over-written with memoranda. He fluttered some of these nowbefore Robin's eyes and Robin saw that they contained lists of names. 

"A party--your guardian is quite right--we were remiss--of course Madamewould 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 inMadame's desk--Harkness will know who of them have died--yes, anat-home, say from four to seven--Mr. Allendyce and his sister will cometo help you receive--I will talk to Budge--yes--" Mr. Tubbs rarelyfinished a sentence. He always spoke as though he were thinkingmemoranda aloud, and punctuated his words with little tugs at his silkyVan Dyke beard. 

Robin had a rebellious impulse to snatch the fluttering lists from hislong fingers and tear the "best people of the county" into tiny bits butshe remembered what Beryl had said about a Forsyth having to do manythings, smothered a sigh, and said meekly: "I don't know much aboutparties. "

"My dear young lady, experience will teach you. They are important--yes, for one of your station--important as your books. I will seeBudge--about the date--yes. "

"Old grandmother!" cried Beryl, as Mr. Tubbs went off in search of thehousekeeper. "An at-home!" She mimicked his precise tones. "Of all thetiresome things. He'll invite a lot of doddering old women who'll comeand look you over _this_ way!" Beryl lifted an imaginary lorgnette toher eyes. "Why didn't you say you'd like a regular party and just haveyoung people--there's a boys' school only ten miles from here and itwould have been such fun. Of course I couldn't have come down but Icould watch you--"

"Beryl Lynch, you _are_ coming down or I won't stir one foot. You shallpick out one of my dresses and we'll make it longer or something. And Ithink a party with boys I don't know would be lots more terrible thanan at-home. All I hope is that he makes the date soon so that it will beover with. "

Percival Tubbs, inwardly much annoyed at having the peaceful routine ofhis days at the Manor thus disturbed, was as anxious as Robin to havethe party over with. After due deliberation with Mrs. Budge he fixed thedate for a day two weeks ahead. Mrs. Budge insisted she needed that muchtime 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 Robinfor being a girl) "but it'll make talk if she ain't shown. Talk enoughfor Madame going away like she did. I've half a mind to get out the goldplate. That old Mis' Crosswaithe from Sharon'll be over here the firstof any, peeking around and she ain't going to see how things are goingto sixes and sevens. No one else ain't either or my name ain't HannahBudge. It ain't. " And Budge squared her shoulders as a challenge to aninquisitive world. 

Harkness, while he anxiously watched the weather, grew loquacious overthe old times. "This house has known great parties, missy, " he toldRobin. "The best lydies from miles 'round coming in their carriages. The Crosswaithes, from Sharon, before old Mr. Crosswaithe died. And theCullens and the Grangers--she as was the daughter of a gov'nor. TheManor was the finest place in the county and things were done right hereand as gay as could be. " He launched forth on a long description ofChristopher the Third's eighteenth birthday party. "He come up fromschool, missy, with his friends and the young lydies come from New Yorkand some from these parts and the house was as gay, what with flowersand palms and music and their talk. And the young master's table waslaid in the conservatory--and the olders sat in the dining-room and Heldcome from New York--the best caterer, missy--"

Robin and Beryl listened with breathless interest--Robin with a moment'svision of that handsome lad laughing and talking with the "young lydiesfrom New York. " How dreadful, she thought, that only a few months afterthat brilliant affair he should have been killed--he would have beenabout 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--" andHarkness 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 theiryoung people. "

Robin refrained from saying she hoped it _would_ snow, for if Harknessand Budge enjoyed fussing over the dreadful party she did not want tospoil their anticipation. 

The entire house seemed ridiculously astir over the approaching event;extra help came from the village, the air throbbed with the hum ofvacuum cleaners, chairs and tables were beaten with a frenziedthoroughness, 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 forBeryl, a process to which Beryl consented only after a stormy scene andtears on Robin's part. 

Robin's plans for her House of Laughter had to be tucked away for thetime, and when she sighed now and then over her ripping and stitching itwas because she'd so much rather be making frilly, crispy curtains forthose 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 shebrought the court jewels with her? Did that dreadful Brina kneel on oneknee 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 Berylattached to it a personal interest. Would she not, as sure as anything, sometime play before crowned heads by royal command? Sometimes, lyingwide-eyed in the dark, she pictured herself at such a moment, gorgeouslygowned, and delightfully disdainful of the bejeweled, becrowned, statelykings and queens and little princelings, dukes and duchesses and earlsand countesses, all hanging on the exquisite notes she drew from herstrings. After she finished they would forget their crowns and thingsand fall upon her in a sort of humble adoration. Beryl shiveredexquisitely, she could make the picture so very real! Now, when shedreamed, the queens and duchesses looked like the mysterious mistress ofthe house by the Rushing Water. 

Robin thought of their Dowager Queen of Altruria as perhaps being alittle lonely, sometimes. With everyone, now, watching the weather inanxious dread of a snowstorm, it occurred to her that such a stormwould 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 canuntil Spring. I'd like to take her something, too. Something Christmasy. Christmas is only two weeks off and think how dreadful to spendChristmas all by yourself. "

Beryl thought both the visit and the gift a fine idea and set her witsto working to contrive an offering suitable for one of the Dowager'sstation 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 youcould 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'dever want it with all these other books here?"

Beryl's reasoning seemed logical and Robin put aside a tiny doubt shehad as to her right to "help herself" to even a very small volume. Someday she could explain to her Aunt Mathilde that she had given it to anice old lady who lived all alone. 

The girls filled a huge basket with luscious fruit from Budge'sstorehouse, and gay flowers from the conservatory, and concealed thelittle book under the bright foliage. They decided, after muchdeliberation, to let Williams into their secret, and show him theiroffering, so that he would surely consent to drive them to RushingWaters. 

"We'll just about get it in before the snow comes, " agreed Williams, scanning the sky with that anxiety to which Robin had grown veryfamiliar. "A Queen, you say? Well, what do you think of that!" Helaughed uproariously. 

"We're not exactly _sure_, but we have our suspicions, " corrected Berylin a freezing tone. 

"And please don't tell a soul because we really have no right to forceourselves 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 thecorner store while you two are interviewing the Duchess--I beg pardon, the Queen. "

The girls left Williams, as he suggested, at the little store, whilethey, tugging their basket between them, found and followed the path bythe Rushing Water. It was as alluring as ever--berries still clung tothe undergrowth, gleaming red against the dark of the fir trees; thedead leaves underfoot crackled softly as though protesting theirintrusion; there was a whirring of wings and always the rush of thewater. 

"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, announcingtheir presence in crisp German. 

The mistress of the house rose a little hastily from the table beforewhich she was sitting. She was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe ofsoft velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and crossing over herbreast, where it was held in place by a brooch of flashing gems. Atsight of her visitors her face softened from haughty surprise to aresigned amusement. Robin broke the silence. 

"May we come in? We thought we'd like--that maybe you'd like--" Oh, itwas dreadful to know what to say, when all the time you were thinkingshe 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. Cæsar, lie down _He_ is gladto see you! I have been looking over a book of colored prints of oldcathedrals. Would you like to pull your chairs up to the table and lookat them with me?"

Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to say: "Isn't that justwhat an exiled Queen would be doing?" The prints were rare andexceedingly lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from a New Yorkgallery. Their hostess told them of some of the quaint cathedral townsand the stories of the cathedrals themselves. Robin, who had aninherited appreciation of beauty, listened eagerly, putting in now andthen a question or a statement of such intelligence that the "DowagerQueen" studied her with interest. 

Beryl, thrilled by the ermine and the gleaming brooch, did not care afig about the cathedrals but sat back in a rapture of speculation. Thereseemed something in the stately head with its crown of white hair, vaguely, tantalizingly familiar; she must have seen pictures of theQueen of Altruria somewhere. She watched each gesture and fitted it toher dream. This Queen who seemed really truly friendly now and almosthuman, might go back some day to Altruria, wherever that was, and ofcourse, when _she_ toured Europe, or maybe even when she was therestudying, she could go and stay at the Palace just like a relative. Itwould be fun to visit in a palace and smile at all the fuss and crownsand things because you were an American and didn't believe in them. 

"Oh, we forgot our basket!" cried Robin, suddenly darting to the doorwhere Brina had, with a sniff, dropped their precious offering. "Webrought these--for a Christmas greeting. "

"They are lovely, " cried the "Queen" with sincere delight, her eyesdrinking in hungrily the beauty of the exotic blossoms--for Robin andBeryl had helped themselves to the best the Manor had. "And fruit--ah, Brina's heart will rejoice. What is this?" Her slender, shapely handsfussed over the wrappings of the book, while Robin and Beryl watched. 

"Why--" The Queen turned the book over and over, her face bent so thatits expression was hidden. The girls' delight gave way, now, toconcern--the Queen held the book so long and with such curiousintentness that they wondered, anxiously, if there were anything aboutDante's verses displeasing to a Queen of Altruria. "You never _can_ tellabout those jealous kingdoms over there!" Beryl said afterwards. 

After their hostess had "most worn the book out staring at it" shelifted her eyes and fixed a curious gaze upon her visitors. 

"This is a rare little treasure, " she said in a queer tone. "And may Inot know how it came into your possession--and who you are?"

Robin's heart jumped into her throat. What had they done? It had lookedlike any book except that the leather of the binding seemed softer thanmost books and smelled very nice and there were beautiful coloredillustrations inside--but the Queen said it was a rare book and waswondering where they had gotten it. Perhaps they had helped themselvesto the Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked frantically atBeryl, who, guessing her intention, gave violent signs of warning, towhich she paid no heed. 

"Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch who lives with me atthe Manor. We took the book from the library there because there areever and ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely--when wintercomes--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 oneof 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 ofits moment's dread, and she rattled on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowland the Queen's searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. MadameForsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though--at least now. She's--she'stravelling. We have a tutor and I have a guardian who lets me do aboutwhat I please. You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I was aboy--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 smallgirl--and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten that, now. But thehousekeeper never _will_ forgive me. And my great-aunt doesn't know, yet. I wish for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome youngman like young Christopher Forsyth who died--but I can't, so I'm justgoing to be as good a Forsyth as I can and make up to them allfor--being a girl. "

"Whom do you mean--'them all?'" asked the Queen. She had dropped into achair and turned her head toward the fire, in very much the sameattitude 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'tthink he cares, now, or that cross old housekeeper; I mean--all the Millpeople. You see the Mills have grown very fast and there are lots andlots of people working in them, but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent, is very old-fashioned and he'll never improve things. " Robin racked herbrains to recall Dale's and Adam Kraus' exact words. "He's letting thepeople 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 hadeverything nice. _He_ says the Forsyths don't care, that they just thinkof the Mill people as parts of a machine to make money for them, and notas human beings. Why, there was a girl, Sarah Castle--" and Robin, hertongue loosed, told eloquently of Sarah Castle and of Susy and Grannyand the old cottage "up the river, " and then--because it made it seem soreal to tell about it--of her House of Laughter. 

"Of course, " she finished, "if I were a boy I could do much more--oreven if I were big. You see, there's been what Mr. Harkness calls agloom over the Manor for a long time; and my great-aunt's been so sadover that that she couldn't think of anything else--and maybe I'll bedoing something if I just show the Mill people that a Forsyth, even ifshe'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 andanswered in such a cold voice: "I'm sure I do not know, " that Robinturned crimson with embarrassment. Of course, a Queen could not even beremotely interested in the Manor and the Mills--especially if she had toworry over a whole kingdom herself. She had been silly to rattle on theway she had!

Brina, quite unknowingly, came to the rescue with a tray of cakes and apot of cocoa. 

Their hostess, her annoyance put aside, smiled graciously again, andpoured the cocoa into little cups while the firelight flashed from thebrooch on her dress. Brina went back and forth with heavy tread, sullenly watchful of her mistress' smallest need. The girls sat close tothe table upon which still lay the book of cathedral prints and sippedtheir cocoa and ate their cakes. The wintry sun shone in through thecurtained windows, giving the room, with its pale glow, a melancholycheerfulness. 

"Must you really go?" asked their hostess, politely, when, a half-hourlater, Robin and Beryl exclaimed at the lateness of the hour. 

"Why, we never meant to stay so long! It has been so nice. " Robinwondered, if she held out her hand, would the Queen take it? Sheventured it with such a shy, appealing movement that the old ladyclasped it in hers, then dropped it abruptly, as though annoyed by herown impulsiveness. 

"The afternoon has passed very pleasantly for me. " The Queen's voice wasmeasuredly polite. "I thank you for thinking of me--in my out-of-the-waycorner, and bringing me such lovely gifts. " Her eyes turned from theflowers which Brina had put in a squat pewter pitcher to the book whichlay on the table. Then she turned to Robin and levelled a glance uponher which held a queer challenge. 

"If you succeed--with your--what did you call it--House of Laughter, letme know, sometime. I shall be most interested in your experiment. "

"Then she _was_ listening, " thought Robin, wondering at the bitter tonein the woman's voice. "Maybe she's so lonely and so unhappy she hates tothink of laughter. "

"Well, Red-Robin Forsyth, you certainly did spill everything you knewand a lot more besides, " cried Beryl, when the two were alone. "As if aQueen cared a fig! I tried to head you off a couple of times. " Beryllaughed scornfully. "It was _funny_!"

Robin still smarted from her recent embarrassment; she did not relishBeryl'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 arehappening in Europe. Sort of led her on, you know, so's maybe she'd giveherself away. _That's_ what _I_ wanted--to find out something about_her_ instead of telling all about ourselves. Here she knows everythingabout you and you notice she didn't say one word about herself! Thewhole afternoon's wasted and we might as well not've gone at all. Iwanted to get something on her so's maybe--some day--" Disgusted, Berylbroke off abruptly, quickening her step to show her companion herdispleasure. 

Robin limped in silence after her; she _had_ talked too much, the Queenwas probably laughing at her now--and Beryl was angry and disgusted. 

Beryl forgot her moment's displeasure, however, when Williams impartedto them the "dope" he had on the "Queen-dame, " gleaned from the oldstorekeeper. 

"Old Si says the 'queer party' bought that house off up there last fallsuddenly and moved up from somewhere or t'other with a truck load ofstuff. The Big-gun, beg pardon, I mean the Queen, came herself, withsome sort of a body-guard in an enclosed car, that went away after it'dlanded them in the woods. Si's sore, I suppose, because they get 'theirvittles sent up from New York'--though I don't know as I blame them fromwhat I saw in his store. Says the 'queer party' walks through thevillage sometimes, but she's always with her body-guard and a big dog, and wears a heavy veil 'like them furrin' women'. " Williams chuckled ashe 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 inWashington and tell what we know and maybe we'd get a reward. Royaltymost always has a price on its head, " Beryl finished grandly. 

Robin wanted to protest at the thought of there being a price on thatsnow-white head, but not certain as to how far she had been restored inBeryl's favor, she refrained, and merely smiled in assent to Beryl'sexcitement. 

"We've got to hurry back if we beat that cloud yonder, " declaredWilliams, nodding toward a gathering bank of dark clouds in the westernsky, and the mention of snow brought back to the girls the approachingparty. 

It did snow--long before Williams reached the Manor, so that the car wascovered; throughout the dinner Harkness went again and again to thewindow to peer out, always turning back with the worried announcement:"It's still coming down. " And at bedtime Robin, peeping out, saw a worldblanketed white. Even Mr. Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon his softpillow with the regretful thought: "Now the Grangers cannot come. Apity. Yes. "

CHAPTER XV

THE PARTY

The household at Gray Manor looked upon the heavy fall of snow withvarying emotions. Harkness lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off forMissy'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 theGrangers--"

Downstairs Budge rejoiced that the Grangers might not come. "Eyes like aferret that woman has and like as not she never got over our boy'sgoing. She'd say things _was_ going to sixes and sevens, with a littlething no bigger'n a penny in our boy's shoes--she would. But I'd like toknow who ever'll eat all the stuff I'm fixing!" The house cleaned to afine polish from attic to cellar, Mrs. Budge had turned her attentionmost 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 mightnot find it possible to come. 

"Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame herself, " explainedHarkness. "In the old days her people and the Manor people were thicklike and visited backward and forward. And there was talk of youngChristopher some day marrying the young lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tellhis death was a sad blow to them. They haven't been coming much to theManor 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 muchfood?"

"Well, you might say most will make it, for they keep the post roadsopen. We'll hope for the best, missy, " he added, interpreting Robin'sanxious questioning as an expression of disappointment. 

But Robin's sudden concern over the party had nothing to do with thecoming 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, Robindecided 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. Itwas the new Robin again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell--

After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer garments and slipped out ofthe house while Beryl was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fullygrown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch. 

Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted down Mrs. Budge, whomshe found mixing savory concoctions in a huge bowl. 

"M'm, how good things smell, " she began, to break down the hostility shesaw 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'veinvited 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?" Budgepermitted 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 bythe 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 walkout this minit, I would, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. Guests! Like asnot some of these Mill truck. "

More than the snowstorm threatened the success of Robin's "at-home. " ForCornelius Allendyce was suddenly prostrated by a bad attack ofsciatica. And his sister declared she could not leave him; at such timesonly her patient and faithful ministrations eased his intense suffering. 

"I'll telephone to Wassumsic right away and don't you worry, " she beggedof 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. CorneliusAllendyce opened it with indifferent fingers, read it, then rose uprightwith such suddenness that a loud cry of pain burst from him. 

"Will you listen to this? That child wants me to express fifty sleds tothe Manor, at once! Read it and see if I've gone crazy. "

"There, there, lie still, Cornelius--I don't care if she wants fiftysleds or fifty hundred. Send them to her and wait until you're well tofind 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!" Allsolicitous, for her brother's face had twisted in agony, the sisterdropped 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 backin his head, the thought that there was quite a bit more to being aguardian 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 completedthe plans for her part of the party, and confided to Beryl that fifty ofthe Mill youngsters were coming to the Manor to coast on the slopinghillside. 

"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 itinto 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 ofthem. Your mother invited them for me through the school teacher--yousee, there wasn't time for me to, because I didn't know where theyounger children lived. My guardian has sent on the duckiest sleds--allred. Williams brought them up and they're out in the garage. He's goingto take charge of my part of the party. "

"Does Budge know?"

Robin hated to admit that she had been afraid to tell Budge. She flushedever so slightly. "N-no. At least I told her there were some extracoming. Oh, Beryl, _don't_ act as though you thought everything wasgoing to be a failure. I thought--as long as there was going to be thisstupid old reception here and lots of nice food, it was the _only_ timeto have a party for the kiddies, for Budge would never cook a crumb ifit were just for them. I wish my guardian were here--I _know_ he'dunderstand. "

"Where are they going to eat?"

"The ladies? Oh, the children. I've told Harkness to put a table in theconservatory and make it Christmasy. "

"You're clever, Robin. Harkness will do it for you--but, oh, he'll hateit; I can hear him--'things aren't like they used to be. ' As my father'dsay-you're killing the goose that lays the golden egg, all righto. Budgewill 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 careabout it? I came here so that Jimmie could go away without worryingabout 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 thefamiliar guise. "You _are_ the queerest girl. You don't seem to care forthe 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 lovelytrips, and the fun. You could go to one of these girls' schools and playtennis and golf and ride horseback! And always have pretty clothes!" Thebitter edge to Beryl's voice betrayed how much she would like thesethings. 

"Would you desert your mother and--and Dale for things like that? Wouldyou?"

In her relentless dreaming, in her sturdy ambitions, Beryl had never putsuch a question to herself. She had simply never seen them in herpicture. She evaded a direct answer now. 

"They'd want me to!"

"Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are like that. Justunselfish. But you wouldn't give your mother up for anything. I know youwouldn't. "

Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. In her innermostheart--an honest heart it was--she was not quite sure; her life had beendifferent from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things and gostraight for them; so had Dale. If getting them meant sacrificingsentiment--well, she'd do it. So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thoughtDale perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand because Robin hadnever wanted anything big--Beryl always fell back upon this comfortingthought. 

"Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't get so interested inyour kids that you forget Mrs. Granger. She _is_ coming--theytelephoned that the road is open. "

Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of Beryl's head to show herthat, no matter how much they disagreed, they were good friends, andwent off in search of Harkness. 

The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servantsready. 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 hadsomething of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to theold days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with adour 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 statelydrawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for thehundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, asHarkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughtson the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds wereflying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting inglee. 

True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrivedfirst. Robin saw masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened facesomewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot Mr. Tubbs' carefulteaching, said "I'm pleased to know you, " instead, and held out her handto the tall, thin, mannishly dressed young woman behind Mrs. Crosswaithe, who, though Robin did not know it, was Mrs. Crosswaithe'sdaughter. 

For an hour the guests arrived in as steady a stream as theirhigh-powered cars could carry them through the heavy roads. The Manorhad not been opened like this for years and the "best people in thecounty" took advantage of the opportunity to look for signs of failingfortunes, to see the "girl" who had come to the Manor, and to find outjust where Madame was travelling. Thanks to Budge's heroic work no onediscovered any sign of change in the old house; their questioning onlymet with disappointment, and Budge's food was of much more interest thanthe young heiress who, they decided, was a pretty little thing but muchtoo small for her age. 

Robin shook hands until her arm ached, mumbled the wrong thing most ofthe time which, however, did not seem to make any difference withanyone, and kept one eye longingly on the window, and one ear listeningfor the shouts outside which were growing louder and louder. She seizedan opportunity to go to the window and watch, so that when the greatMrs. Granger arrived Mr. Tubbs had to, a little sharply, recall her toher duty. 

"Isn't she--awful?" whispered Robin to Beryl, as Mrs. Granger, aftercondescendingly patting Robin's hand, swept on. 

"She thinks _she's_ so grand, but she ought to see the Queen!" Whichobservation would have enraged Mrs. Granger, had she heard it, for shehad felt particular satisfaction in her dress and hat, sent on, only theday before, from the most expensive shop in New York. 

"Miss Alicia didn't come--she's in California. Say, Robin, there's aGranger boy, 'bout eighteen. Maybe that's why my lady Granger's so sweetto you. "

"Silly!" Robin flung at Beryl in retort. "Oh, dear, can't I go out to myown guests now?"

Robin and Williams had planned that the children should be admitted tothe conservatory through a side door, leaving their outer garments in avestibule. So, when everything was in readiness for them, Harkness gavethe sign, and Williams herded his noisy troupe to the house. 

Many of the older guests had been present at that memorable birthdayparty on young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and they recalled now, over their salad plates, the brilliancy of that affair and touched uponall that had happened since in the way of change. Mrs. Granger displayedmuch emotion. 

"_That_ made a picture I will never forget!" and she nodded toward theglass doors, curtained in soft silk, which led from the dining room tothe conservatory and which Harkness had carefully closed. "I wonder if Imight just peep in? Ah, the memories. My dear Alicia and that handsomeboy--" she touched a lacy handkerchief to her eyes. 

Several who had overheard her followed Mrs. Granger to the closed doorsand stood behind her as she opened them. And their eyes beheld a sightso different from that birthday party that they stepped back inamazement, Mrs. Granger lifting her lorgnette in trembling fingers. 

Youngsters of every size and of every degree of greed crowded around thelong table, the "Christmasy" decoration of which had already been pulledto pieces by eager reaching hands. Faces, still red from the crisp airand streaked where dirty coat sleeves had rubbed them, beamed across theheaping plates, busy fingers crammed away the goodies. One small boyhalf-lay across the table; another stood in his chair, his frayed woolencap set rakishly back and over one ear. On each excited countenance ashadow of suspicion mingled with the joy, a fear that the same magicwhich had brought it might snatch all this strange and lovely fun away. Harkness watched at one end of the table, Williams at another. And intheir 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 peopleof the County" by the opening of the door. "Miss Gordon is going in forthe pretty charity thing, is she?"

All might have gone well even then--for Harkness had a stern eye oneveryone 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 theyoungest of the children there; she did not go to school regularlyenough 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 satdown next to her, put her arm around her and coaxed her to eat the foodon the plate before her. The food had turned out to be very good andSusy 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 endwas staring at her, panic seized her, a mad longing to escape, anywhere--preferably back to the shelter of the "big girl's" friendlyarm. She slid down from her seat, her eyes wildly sweeping the room;Harkness, like an ogre, guarded one end of the table, Williams' bulkstood between her and the outer door; there was only the one way, through the glass doors. Head down, she ran swiftly the length of theconservatory and bolted into the little group of people watching fromthe dining room door. Someone big blocked her way. With frightened handsshe 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'stousled head she smiled nervously at her staring guests. 

"Poor little thing, she's shy!" Then, feeling Susy quivering in herclasp, she whispered something magical in her ears. It was only: "Robinwill keep tight hold of your hand, Susy-girl, and you needn't be a bitfrightened and by and by, if you're quiet, we'll fill a bag of goodiesfor your brother and Granny. " But it soothed Susy at once, and, clingingto Robin's hand, she stared at the guests from the shelter of Robin'sskirts. 

There was a little stir among the "best people of the County"--a renewalof the chatter, high-pitched, pleasant nothings, and side remarks, incareful 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 samespoon, so to speak. "

And, in a corner, Mrs. Granger was raging over the damaging imprint oftwo sticky hands on the delicate fabric of her costly gown. For her'shad been the bulk that had stood between Susy and her "big girl, " andSusy had been eating chocolate marshmallow cake with both hands!

Mrs. Granger had come to Gray Manor with the intention of coaxing MissGordon to spend Christmas at Wyckham, the Granger home. But, as she madeineffectual dabs at the greasy spots on her skirt with her silly littlehandkerchief, she put such a thought quite away from her mind. 

"Brat!" she cried under her breath, angrily, and from the way she glaredat 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. Andfrom Beryl, inasmuch as that young lady affected a stoical indifferenceto the holiday, she could get little sympathy. Beryl had shocked herwith the heresy: "Christmas is just for rich people, anyway. "

"It is not. Oh, it isn't, " Robin had cried in remonstrance. But shecould not tell of her and Jimmie's happy Christ-days without giving wayto the tears which, at the thought, scalded the backs of her eyes. Ithad not been alone the holly and pine of the shop windows, or the simplegifts Jimmie's loyal and more fortunate friends brought, or the usualmerry feast that had made them happy; it had been a deep and beautifulunderstanding of the Infinite Love that had given the Christ-child tothe world, that Love which surpassed even Jimmie's love for her or hersfor Jimmie, and that was hers and everyone elses. She had felt it firstwhen, a very little girl, she had gone, once, with Jimmie into thepurple shadows of a great church, where the air was sweet with incenseand vibrating with the muted notes of an organ. She had stood withJimmie before a little cradle that had seemed beautiful with gold andprecious colors but, when she looked again, was a humble thing of woodand straw, and what she had thought so bright was the radiance ofcandles and the reflection from the many-colored windows. Then she hadlooked at the cradle more closely and had found that it held a beautifulwax babe. When Jimmie tugged at her hand she had reluctantly turnedaway. At the same time a shabby old woman and a little boy, who had beenkneeling nearby, arose, and the old woman and the little boy had smiledat her--a _different_ smile and she had smiled back. On the way homeJimmie had explained to her that the Gift of the Christ-child was thegreat universal gift and belonged to everyone, the world over. She knew, then, why the shabby old woman had smiled--it was over the Gift theyshared. 

"Christmas is for _everybody_, " she finished. 

"Well, all it means to me now that I'm big, " pursued Beryl, "is storesfull of lovely things and crowded with people lucky enough to have moneyto buy them. And talking about how much everything is. I heard a womanonce saying she had to spend five dollars on her aunt because her auntalways spent five dollars on her. That's why I say Christmas is for therich--it's a sort of general exchange and take it back if you don't likeit or have half a dozen like 'em, or put it away and send it to some onenext Christmas. Miss Lewis, at the Settlement where mother worked, gavea book to a lady one Christmas and got it back the next, and the leavesweren'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, " sheprotested, then and there vowing to make the Christmas at the Manor amerry one, in spite of odds. 

"Well, the nicest thing _I_ know that's going to happen is thatRub-a-dub-dub is going home, " retorted Beryl. 

"That _is_ nice, but there'll be even nicer things. Let's invite yourmother and Dale for dinner and have a little tree and we'll make allsorts of foolish things to put on it. "

To Beryl this did not sound at all exciting but Robin loved the thoughtof 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 nicesmelly tree, which she and Beryl would adorn with gifts that had no morevalue than a good laugh. 

And she would coax Harkness to get Williams and his nice wife to helpopen and clean the House of Laughter. She'd like to have it a Christmasgift from her to the Mill children. 

She found Harkness ready for her wildest suggestion. He had confided toWilliams and Mrs. Budge that he felt sorry for little Missy alone in thebig 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 Christmaswithout a tree. Many's the one I've cut with the young master; he'd haveno 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 explainedabout the House of Laughter and the dinner that must be "different. " Shehad 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'llcome, 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 beas merry a Christmas as old Harkness can make it, Missy. "

"Oh, Mr. Harkness, you're a dear, " Robin cried, with a look that madethe old man's heart almost burst with affection. 

"But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than she has to know, " hethought, as he went off to do Robin's bidding. 

With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, who had married thetelegraph operator at the little station, pressed into the work, theempty cottage at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Windowswere opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in the sweet cold air;under the magic of strong soap and good muscle the old wood-work shonewith cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy. Harkness andWilliams hauled down a load of wood and piled it high by the back door;Mrs. Lynch transformed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, eagerthing. 

Williams, who was very clever and would have been a carpenter if hehadn't been a chauffeur, built tables out of rough boards and, in theliving 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 generouswith advice. 

"There, I'd say things were pretty nice, " exclaimed Williams, at the endof the sixth day of work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction thechair he had made out of "odds and ends. "

"But it doesn't look like what we want--yet!" Robin glanced aboutdolefully. "It needs such a lot to make it homey. Where'll we ever getit 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 betweenhis teeth. "I guess there's truck enough in the attic up there at theManor to fill this house and a dozen like it. "

"Oh, Mr. Harkness, may we use it? Or--just borrow it until my auntreturns? Can we?"

Harkness exchanged glances with Williams. Harkness knew that it had longbeen Mrs. Budge's custom to make a two day trip to New York during theweek preceding Christmas. They could take advantage of her absence. 

"Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, to do. " And no one thoughtof smiling at his "we" for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or shehad a share in Robin's House of Laughter. 

But even stripping the Manor attic of its "truck" did not satisfy Robinand the day before Christmas found her House of Laughter lacking in thethings she wanted most. 

"It ought to have jolly pictures and ever so many books and pillows andnice, frilly curtains, " she mourned, wondering how much they would costand how she could ever get them. 

On Christmas morning, Harkness dragged to Robin's door a box of giftsfrom her guardian. Most of them Miss Effie had selected, as poorCornelius Allendyce was still confined to his room, and thatgood-hearted woman had, with a burst of real Christmas spirit, simplyduplicated each gift, for, though she wasn't at all sure, yet, that this"companion" of Robin's choosing was the refined sort Robin ought tohave, nevertheless she was a girl like Robin and Christmas wasChristmas. Beryl appreciated the thoughtfulness more than she couldexpress 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 boxof bon-bons in queer shapes and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had everseen anything quite so extravagantly contrived. 

"She paid a fortune for _that_, " declared Beryl, appraisingly. "She musthave forgiven Susy for spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking ofher 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 agesture that disposed of Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim thetree. "

Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the straightest, princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. Its fragrance penetrated andfilled the old house. The girls went about sniffing joyously, carryingin their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of bright paper. Harkness, oddly dishevelled and excited, balanced on a stepladder andfastened the gay ornaments where Robin directed. 

Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christmas tree without theusual tinsel and glittering baubles. But after Robin and Harkness hadworked for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very Christmasy and"different. "

"You're awfully clever, Robin, " she declared, in a tone franklygrudging. "You make little things count for so much--like mother. "

"I think _that's_ a compliment. And speaking of your mother, BerylLynch, we have just time to wash our hands and faces and change ourdresses 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. " ForHarkness, his head on one side, a sprig of holly over one ear whereRobin had put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which Robin hadmade of bright tissue paper and which he had carefully hung by theheels. 

"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 nicestpart of Christmas. 

Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with the last touches of theChristmas 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 frostedcake. Then, lest she grow cheerful, she drew a long sigh from the depthsof her bosom. "But, cake or no cake, I never thought I'd live to feedMill persons, coming to our table like the best people. Things plaincommon. It ain't like the old days--it ain't. "

"The old days are old days, Hannah Budge, " rebuked Harkness, who hadcome into the kitchen. "Mebbe our little lydy's ways aren't our ways butit 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 thingsat sixes and sevens I have enough to do!" But Mrs. Budge's tone hadsoftened. She _had_ not made a Christmas cake (at sixteen Hannah Budgehad taken the prize at the County Agricultural Exhibit for the finestdecorated cake, and she had never forgotten it) since Master Christopherthe Third had left them. And she _had_ enjoyed hearing young voices andeager 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 backthe folding doors to reveal the Christmas tree in the conservatory. AndRobin, waiting for Mrs. Lynch's "oh" of admiration, gave vent herself toa delighted cry of surprise for, at the foot of the tree, so still as toseem a graven image, sat little Susy, cross-legged, staring in wraptcontentment at the bright ornaments. 

"Susy, you _darling_, where in the world did you drop from?" Robinrushed to her and knelt at her side. 

Without moving her eyes so much as a fraction of an inch, Susy indicatedthe side door of the conservatory as her means of entrance. In one handshe clutched a soiled ragged picture book, on its uppermost page thecolorful illustration of "The Night before Christmas. " Susy had notforgotten the magic of that side door which had opened for her upon afeast beyond her wildest imaginings; if there were a place on earthwhere that Christmas tree of her picture could come really true it mustbe at the "big girl's. " Alone she had bravely climbed the hill to theManor 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 alittle girl to sit at the foot of that tree, didn't we?"

At Robin's command, Harkness played the rôle of Santa. The girls hadfashioned all sorts of nonsensical gifts out of paper and cardboard andpaste; no one was forgotten. Mrs. Lynch declared herself "as rich asrich" with bracelets and a necklace made of red berries. Mrs. Budge, forgetting, when Robin held a sprig of mistletoe over her head anddaringly kissed her wrinkled cheek, that "things was going to sixes andsevens, " laughed until her sides ached at Harkness in his silly clown'scap. Robin and Beryl, with much solemnity, exchanged purchases each hadsecretly 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 aChristmas full of joy that had nothing to do with stores full of lovelythings and crowded with people lucky enough to have money to buy them. Never having thought much about the Christmas spirit, she had no namewith 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, madeher glad all over. But after a little she disappeared, and presently, from the library, came the strains of her violin, low, pulsing with adeep emotion, now a laugh, now a sob, climbing higher and higher untilthey sang like the far-off, quivery note of a bird, flying into theheavens. 

A deep hush fell over the little group of merrymakers. Harkness coughedinto his hand. Mrs. Budge fussed around the spacious belt of a dress fora handkerchief and, finding none, surreptitiously lifted a corner of herapron. Mrs. Lynch caught her throat with a convulsive movement as thoughsomething hurt it. Robin, watching her, slipped her hand into themother's and squeezed it. 

"Don't go, " she whispered when the music suddenly ceased. "Beryl'sfunny. 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 makesthat all up, too, 'cause she hasn't any music. She's going to be thegreatest violinist in the world. Hush!"

Beryl had begun a lilting refrain, as though a mother laughed as shesang 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 deepertones of a Christmas anthem and again into a tempestuous outburst ofmelody, as though Beryl had let loose all at once the riotous feelingsthat surged within her. 

Just as the last note died away a bell pealed through the house. Becauseit was still Christmas, really being only nine o'clock, everyone lookedfor a surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when Harkness placed animpressive envelope in Robin's hands and said that a stranger hadbrought it to the door. 

"He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but before I could as muchas say 'Good evening' he was off in the dark. "

Robin studied the address, which was printed. It gave no cluewhatsoever. Nor was there anything else on the envelope. She broke thesealed 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 everysolitary thing you told her, Robin--even what we called her house. Whatare 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 theunexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't said she didn't believe theexperiment would work. It _isn't_ an experiment and it _will_ work. I'mnot _trying_ anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, who hastilyassured 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 canget them. But isn't this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen a oneand two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. "I never had so much in mylife. "

At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas celebration apparentlyabandoned in the excitement of the strange letter, she departedkitchenward. 

Harkness volunteered to escort Susy and Mrs. Lynch back to the village. In a twinkling the house had quieted so that the girls' footsteps, asthey climbed the stairs, resounded strangely. 

Robin leaned for a moment against the banister and looked back into theshadows of the great, dimly-lit hall. 

"Listen a moment, Beryl! Can't you hear tiny echoes of voices andlaughter? Don't you s'pose even the things we think and feel get intothe air, too--and linger?"

Beryl tugged at her arm. "Oh, come on, Robin. You make me creepy. You'llbe 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 indisappointment. "Not so much as a tiny crown on it! I'll bet she hadsomeone 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 countedover the five precious bank-notes. She knew with her eyes shut each lineand shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept them in a littleheart-shaped box that had been a favor at a studio party she had gone towith Jimmie a few years ago. 

Their magic opened possibilities for her House of Laughter;curtains--cushions--books--pictures--games, why, she could have all thethings she had wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And behindher 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 surelywant her to give it to Dale to perfect his model. For had not Adam Krausand Dale both said that the little invention would make everything atthe Mills better? She would present her gift to him at the "opening" ofthe House of Laughter. Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there. Under cover of the general merriment she would find an opportunity. Shewent over and over, until she could say them backward, the few wordswith which she would make him accept the money. 

Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's mind, declared shefussed an awful lot over samples and lists for anyone who had so muchmoney 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 alot, they did. " When Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonnetoo expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese cloth they bought atthe village store a gay yellow. And she wisely counselled Robin to lether write to Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the SettlementHouse where she had worked) and ask her to send up a few suitablepictures and the right books with which to begin. "_She'll_ know, dearie. "

While the final preparations were going rapidly forward, Mrs. Lynch tookpains to spread the news of the House of Laughter through the MillVillage by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with Mrs. Whaley andtelling her all about it. "It's better it is than the written word, " sheexplained to Robin, who had worried over just how the Mill people weregoing to know about their plans. "And when you send the cute littlecards around it'll be in crowds they come, you mark me. "

"Don't you think everything'll be ready by Saturday night?" Robin askedeagerly. 

Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would be, for he had not beenable to hold Robin to serious study since the holidays. And poorHarkness had developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures MissLewis sent and laying clean white paper in cupboards and on shelves. 

Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether the windows of theliving room of the House of Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, andlaughed when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir Galahad, becausehe looked as though he were seeing such a beautiful vision, to hang overthe shelf Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively interest inthe festivities which were to open the House to the Mill people. Robinlet her help in planning everything to the smallest detail. 

The children were to come in the afternoon and play outdoors with theirsleds and indoors with the books and games, eat cookies and cocoa anddepart with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. In the eveningthe young men and women and the fathers and mothers were to gather inthe living room and play games and sing and maybe dance and lock at thebooks and make lovely plans and admire everything. There would besandwiches and coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a littlespeech, telling them that the House of Laughter was all theirs to dowhat they wanted with it and that the key would always hang just behindthe shiny green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech, " but Beryl had insistedthat she really must because she was a "Forsyth. "

Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill houses cards inviting themto come to the House of Laughter on Saturday night. 

And, everything ready, she counted a precious two hundred dollars leftin the heart-shaped box. That, with what she had not spent from herridiculously big allowance, seemed a fortune. 

Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, promising to the expectantsponsors of the House of Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelveo'clock a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, went toFrank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked for higher wages and betterliving conditions, Adam Kraus acting as their leader. It was not thefirst time these complaints and requests had been laid before thesuperintendent--but now, in the hearts of the hundreds of men and girlswho hung around the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new hopekindled, for there had never before been a man among them who could talkso convincingly as Adam Kraus or could more effectually make old Norrisrealize that they all knew now, to a man, that they could get more moneyalmost anywhere else and work and live like decent human beings. AdamKraus had opened their eyes. He was their hero--for the moment. As hecame, somewhat precipitously, from the office building they gave a quickshout that died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they saw hisfailure written on his angry face. They pressed about him, eager fordetails, but he would tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that hehad not been able to make Norris listen. 

"I say, go to the Manor!" cried a man who had not been at the Mills morethan a month. 

A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed a mocking stridentlaugh that expressed the feelings of the crowd even more than the loudercurses around her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch detached himself from one ofthese groups and walked on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did heshake off his absorption even after he sat down at the table to eat hismother'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 askthe outcome of the call. "Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've beenwondering if Adam is right--about the way to get this. "

"He ought to know more'n you do, " flared big Danny, who loved somethingupon which to vent his own rancor. 

"I suppose. " Dale admitted, eating with quick, absent-minded gulps. "I'dlike to be the head of these Mills--I'd see both sides and make theother 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 theUnited 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 saidplainly she did not agree with her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped hislips, 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 Rileyswere neighbors. Tim Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at theMills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped Mrs. Riley care forher 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 blessedlittle colleens. "

"Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work half-time now and he can'tafford 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 itand--Dale, she's a different Forsyth. "

"She's just a kid, " he answered, in a tone that implied Robin could havelittle 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 onhigh, the "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its originalperfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as her spirits. 

"_Wasn't_ it a success? Didn't the children have a wonderful time?" shebegged to know, with all the happy concern of a middle-aged hostess. "Are you dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's the realtest. " She stopped suddenly and leaned on her broom, her face veryserious. "I do hope the big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn'tsaid 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 geta chance?"

Mrs. Lynch had no answer for Robin's wondering. "Queens don't know aboutthings in this country, " Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books arejust about ruined. I thought Tommy Black would eat up this ArabianNights. "

"That shows how much they want them! I don't care if they _do_ eatthem. " Robin was too happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't herbeautiful plan in the process of coming true? And didn't she have hermoney in her pocket all ready for Dale's grasp?

She had brought flowers from the Manor which she arranged on the tablesand the mantel under her beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellowglow of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and the gleams ofred from the shiny stove, which had to do for the fireplace Robin hadwanted, and the brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served tosoften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpeting and the shabbyfurnishings brought from the Manor attic. 

"I do think everything's lovely and it's just because you've all been sokind about helping, " Robin declared, viewing the room with pride. "Ihope 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 mysaying a speech?" And Robin shivered with nervousness. 

"Of course not, " Beryl answered with cruel promptness. "Anyway, as longas you thought about all this you ought to get the credit. " Beryl had nopatience 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 forMartini. Why, my knees turned to putty. But then, _that_ was different. Listen, there comes some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until thesandwiches 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 thenew books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and miserable in theirSunday best, and she shyly greeted them. When another knock sounded Mrs. Lynch took the women in charge so that Robin might welcome thenewcomers. They were four of the Mill girls and they crowded into theroom, staring curiously about them and at Robin, whose greeting theyanswered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they rushed to him with noisybanter and laughter that had a shrill edge. 

Robin, left alone and without the courage to join either group, watchedthe girls as they gathered about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panicseized her. She fought against it, she told herself that everything wasgoing all right and that in a few moments more people would come, andthese 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, whereHarkness was presiding, came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryland Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on plates as fast astheir quick fingers could make them. Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemedto be gossiping contentedly at one end of the room but Robin wonderedwhy they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch now and then glancedanxiously in her direction; once she heard something about "the Rileys"and an imploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus and the four girlswere urging Dale to do something and Robin saw a big girl with boldblack eyes lay a persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook offalmost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she had the courage tobreak into the circle and drag Dale away from her, instead of standingin such a silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued to theroof 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 wasonly a few minutes, Adam Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the fourgirls. "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth, " he said in his easy, softvoice. "There's an important meeting in the village. You've fixed a nicelittle 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 Harknessbrought in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her feetrooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam Kraus and the girls startfor 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--Thisis your House of Laughter! I--" She struggled desperately to recall thewords of the "speech" Beryl had declared perfect and to keep frombreaking down into tears before these hard, staring eyes. 

The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from behind the others, castinga quick look at Adam Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess younamed this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It _is_ to laugh! But thereain't many of us that know all poor little Mamie Riley's stood, andcares about her the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels likelaughing tonight!" She tossed her head as though proud of her courage, then singled out Dale for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, thatyou'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 inthe little scene from the kitchen door. 

"Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear, " begged Mrs. Lynch, frightenedat Robin's stricken face. 

Robin turned her glance around the deserted room as though she simplycould not believe her eyes. It must surely be an awful dream from whichshe would awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as though tokeep back her own tears of disappointment. "It's a grand time thekiddies had this day, bless the little hearts of them, and a loving youlike 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 anyoneelse--"

Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still lingered the dark flushthat 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 Millpeople didn't come tonight. There's a big protest meeting about theRileys--it wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told you. TimRiley's been laid up for six months and he's just back on half-time andcan't ever do any better, I guess--and he's been ordered out of hishouse 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 littlethings. And he can't go anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife wentherself to Norris and begged for a little time until she heard from anuncle up in Canada or found some way of earning extra money herself, andNorris wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all pretty sore andthey 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 youhurry--down to that meeting--and take them--this?" She held out a thickroll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. I had saved itfor something else, but, oh, those babies just _can't_ go to thatdreadful 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 honestlabor to Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing to pay tolive decently--they just want the chance. And to work decently, too. Ifyou knew the Rileys you'd know what a proud sort they are--they wouldn'ttake your money any more than I would--or mother, here. If your auntwere 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 toorganizing and all that sort of thing and these Mills have been prettyfree from labor trouble--if only Norris could be made to understandthat. 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 lookat 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, theForsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blamethem too much, " turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to bepatronized and they look upon--all this--as a sort of--oh, charity. "

Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laidhis hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like hismother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if youbegin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them--yet. "

"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw heoffered. 

"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to--when they getthe 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 thempay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuringwhat's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These folks aregood, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feeland a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bitof fun. It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't grieve yourblessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, there'll be laughter enough inthis house by and by. Mind you what I said once about beginnings had tocome first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. Lynch and amazinglycomforting 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 andI guess I've been stupid and expected too much. But I shan't make anymore 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 andRobin had a moment's picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl whenshe saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remembering the plight of theRileys' she was ashamed of herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sittingaround the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while Harkness andMrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped coffee. The fire sputtered andgleamed cheerfully, and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliantsplash of color in the soft glow of the room. 

"Who was that big girl with the black eyes?" Robin found the courage toask Beryl when the whole dreadful evening was over and they were back atthe Manor. 

"Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle were chums and workedtogether. Dale says she's awfully clever but _I_ think she's horrid. Theway she spoke to him tonight. "

Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she hated to think that her Princecould find this Sophie Mack clever. 

Too tired from the disappointing evening to want to talk, and too wideawake to dream of going to sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deepbreathing told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. Then shecrept from bed and crouched, a mite of a thing, at the window sill andstared out into the brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowyhills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and buildings of the Mills. Robin recalled that day she had first likened them to a Giant. That dayseemed--so much had happened since and she had grown so muchinside--very long ago and she a silly girl thinking stories abouteverything. Her guardian, to amuse her, had talked about finding a Jackto climb the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled scornfully atthe fancy--so futile in the face of the tremendous misery--andhappiness--that Giant had the power to make!

CHAPTER XVIII

THE LUCKLESS STOCKING

Two hours after Robin's lonely vigil at the window ended, fire destroyedthe empty cottage "up the river" into which the Rileys had been orderedto 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 forold Granny Castle and little Susy. 

Harkness, who had brought them the news, reassured her. "Too bad theycouldn't all a' burned but no such luck--only th' one. It's said thatthere are some as _knows_ how a' empty house without so much as a crumbto draw a rat could a' gone up like that did. And Williams says as howthere was men stood around and wouldn't lift a hand to help put out theblaze 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 feelingstirrin' and bad feelings lead to hasty things like revenge. "

"You mean some one of the Mill people set it on fire?" asked Berylslowly, with wide eyes. 

"And who else'd have bad feelings?"

Robin recalled, with alarm, what Dale had said at the House ofLaughter. Could Dale have done this thing--or helped? Or stood aroundand watched it burn? Oh, no, no--not Dale. 

Harkness, seeing her concern, dexterously broke a soft-boiled egg into asilver egg-cup and said in a carefully casual voice, intended to put thefire quite out of their minds: "Well, the constable'll find the man whatdid it, so don't you worry your head, Missy. "

Robin, her heart heavy with all she wanted to do and couldn't find a wayto 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, shecalled it--for her call upon Mr. Norris at the Mills. The long hours ofSunday, through which she had to wait, had filled her with misgiving. Now she looked so absurdly small in the mirror, her tousled hair sochildish, no matter how much she tried to tuck it out of sight under thelittle dark blue toque, why would anyone, especially a manager of aMill, listen to her?

Beryl, stirred to sympathy by Robin's daring to face the lion in hisden, told her for the hundredth time just how she had suffered beforethat momentous visit to Martini, the orchestra leader, in New York. 

"Why, my hands were clammy and my teeth rattled and everything whirledin front of me and my knees just knocked together, but, say, I gulpedand I said terribly hard to myself, 'You want this thing and you can'tget it if you're all soft inside and a coward', and, Robin, in atwinkling, something began to grow inside of me and get big and biguntil I had courage to do anything! Of course it was different with mebut you'll probably feel just the way I did, all strong inside, when youface him and get stirred up. Only--I hate to tell you, but I saw you putyour stocking on wrong side out and then change it and _that's_ badluck!"

Robin looked down at the luckless stocking. It looked too absurdly atrifle to have weight with anything as important as righting the wrongsof the Rileys. 

Afterward, however, Robin vowed she'd always take great care in herdressing!

Frank Norris had been superintendent of the Forsyth Mills fortwenty-five years. Since the death of old Christopher Forsyth he had runthem pretty much as he pleased, for, inasmuch as his accounting wasaccurate to the smallest fraction and his profits unfailinglyforthcoming, neither Madame Forsyth nor her financial or legal advisers, saw fit to interfere with him. For that reason the old man feltannoyance as well as surprise when Robin broke into the usual routine ofhis Monday morning, already disturbed by the mystery of Saturday night'sfire. 

He had duly paid his respects to the little Forsyth heir with a Sundayafternoon call and had afterward reported to Mrs. Norris that she "was alittle thing, all red hair and eyes. " But now, as she stood at one endof his desk, something in the resolute set of her chin arrested and heldhis attention; there _was_ something more--he could not at the momentsay what--to the "little thing" than eyes and red hair. 

Robin swallowed (as Beryl had instructed) and plunged straight into hererrand. Wouldn't he please let the Rileys stay in their cottage for alittle while--until something could be done?

At the mention of the Rileys the smile he had mustered vanished, and hisbushy eyebrows drew sharply down over his narrow eyes from which angrylittle gleams flashed. 

"Who asked you to come to me, Miss Forsyth?"

Robin's heart went down into her boots. "No one, " she answered in afaint voice. Then, quite suddenly, something in the hard, angry faceopposite her fired that spark within her that Beryl had assured her shewould feel. She felt the "big thing" grow and grow until she stoodstraight, quite unafraid, and could go on calmly. "Only I don'tthink--and I don't believe my aunt would think--it is quite fair to putthem 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 Idon't think quite right, and when my aunt comes back I'm going to askher to change--"

"May I interrupt you, Miss Forsyth, to inquire upon what experience youbase your knowledge? For I assume, of course, you would not want toradically change things here without knowing what you were offering intheir place. I was under the impression that you were quite a youngsterand 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 tookadvantage of it by breaking in, his voice measured and conciliatory. Hesuddenly realized the ridiculousness--and the danger--in quarreling witheven a fifteen-year-old Forsyth. 

"My dear child, I can readily understand in what light certainconditions appear to one of your tender years. When you are older youwill understand that an industry such as I am in charge of here, andconducting, I believe, quite satisfactorily for the Forsyths, has to berun by the head and not the heart. I dislike immensely having to do suchthings as forcing the Rileys to move but you must see it is my duty. IfI make an exception in their case--there will be hundreds like them. Asit happens--" he let a rasp of anger break into his voice--"the cottageinto which they were to move was burned down Saturday night. Howeverthat will only delay the enforcing of my order and when the man or menwho set fire to it are caught they will be dealt with--severely. YourRileys will enjoy a few days of grace until we can put another intoshape. "

"If they burned it it's because they had to show--us--how theyfelt--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 onlyMill in all New England where real white folks worked--but they thinkwe--I mean--the Forsyths--don't care--"

Norris stood up abruptly. Somehow or another he must end this absurdinterview while he could yet hang on to his temper. Some one of thesemiserable agitators--he suspected who it might be--had influenced thegirl, was using her for a tool. He had heard, of course, of the intimacybetween Miss Gordon and the Lynchs. 

"My dear girl--you have no idea how much I would like to go into allthis with you and straighten out the muddle in your head--but, really, Iam a very busy man. Tell me, didn't young Dale Lynch persuade you tocome 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 wenton, a ring of triumph sharpening his voice. 

"Ah, I thought so! Now let me tell you why he is disgruntled. I wouldnot look at some contrivance he brought to me which he claims will, whenit 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 toochummy 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 afatherly manner led her toward the door. "I would suggest, that, withoutthe advice of your aunt--or your guardian--you do not worry your prettylittle red head over this!" And he bowed her with pleasant courtesy outof the door. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" _Another_ one telling her not to worry! She clenched herteeth that no one in the outer office might see how near she was totears. Outside, in a stifled voice, she directed Williams to drive herback to the Manor, then sat very straight in the car as though thosehateful eyes could pierce the thick walls and gloat over her defeat. 

Halfway to the Manor she remembered suddenly that she had quite ignoredthe study hours and that doubtless poor Percival Tubbs was pulling hisVan Dyke to pieces in his rage. Then in turn she forgot the tutor in aflash of concern for Dale. That beast of a Norris had said somethingabout Dale being too chummy with a certain man--and the constable! Didthey suspect Adam Kraus and Dale of setting fire to the cottage? Oh, why had she let him think Dale had suggested her interfering for theRileys--how stupid she had been! If they arrested Dale and accused himit would be her own fault. A fine way for her to repay dear, dear MotherLynch. What _could_ she do?

Beryl met her with the warning that Mr. Tubbs was "simply furious"--andhad said something about "standing this vagary about as long as hecould, " which did not mean much to Robin, not half so much as Beryl'sown ill-temper, for the tutor had taken the annoyance of Robin'shigh-handed absentedness out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl crossshe could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into trouble. She mustmeet the situation alone. 

She must warn Dale, first of all. And to do that she must resort to thedistasteful expedient of hanging about in the groceries-and-notionsstore until Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as he mightpossibly 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 thestore she startled the old storekeeper by an almost wholesale order ofcandies and cookies and topped it off by a demand for a pink knittingwool, which, Robin hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmostshelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grumbling under his breath, shehurriedly told him she _didn't_ want it and dropped a crisp five dollarbill on the counter, for the men were pouring down the street and anymoment Dale might come. 

No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad of her fancy, could haveplanned things to more of a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurdpurchases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam Kraus walkedalong. It was not so much the unusualness of the girl's being there--andalone, that brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring look inher 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 wayhome with me?"

"Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, let's cut through here. " ForDale realized that many curious eyes were staring at them, and not tookindly. Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truckling" to aForsyth, which, just then, was likely to bring contempt upon him. 

Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous picture they made; she in herwarm suit of softest duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his workingclothes, swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other balancingher knobby packages. All she thought of was that this was Dale, thePrince who had once befriended her, whose make-believe presence hadoften gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who was in danger now;and he looked down into the little face under its fringe of flame-redhair and wondered what in the world made it so tragic and why itstrangely haunted him as belonging to some far-off picture in the past. 

Vehemently, because it had been bottled up so long, Robin told him howafraid she was for him--that Norris had as much as said he suspected himand Adam Kraus, and that the constable might arrest them any moment andwouldn't he please--go away--or--or something?

"He says you're disgruntled 'cause he wouldn't look at your 'toy. ' He'sterribly 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 wherestood the House of Laughter. Dale stopped short and threw his head backwith a loud laugh. Robin had wondered in her heart with what courage herPrince 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 boyishand 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 wantingto help me. But you needn't be afraid for me, Miss Robin. There is stilla little justice in the world, in spite of men like Norris, and I canprove to anyone that I was snug in my bed until my mother dragged meout to go off up to the old village. I can't say I helped fight thefire--what was the use? Nothing could have saved the old place. And I'drather like to shake hands with the man who set it on fire, though itwas sort of a low-down trick. Norris won't house anyone in thatrat-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 agood thing for me that Norris turned it down. Adam Kraus has taken itand he's going to have some little metal contrivances made that it hadto have and then he'll take it to Grangers' and he feels pretty surethat Granger will buy it. Only I had a sort of feeling that I wanted itused here--you see these mills gave definite shape to this thing thathas been growing in my head for a long time, just like verses in apoet's. I went to a technical night school for years, you know, and Icouldn't get enough of the machine shop. One of the teachers in theschool got this job for me here. I'd never been outside of New Yorkbefore 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 mineattached to the looms here would revolutionize the whole industry forthe Forsyths. You see these Mills are way behind times in theirequipment; with improved looms they could turn out more work, pay betterwages, and give the men better living and working conditions. Andmen--the sort they have here--will work better with up-to-date thingsaround 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 thepark fence and had taken her home, that she had declared then that hewas 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 dothis thing for him and not entirely to help the Forsyth Mills! But ifshe told him--and he laughed--her pretty pretend would be all over and, because it belonged to that happy childhood in the bird-cage withJimmie, 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 yourworry--over me. It gives a fellow a jolly feeling of importance to knowthat a little girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss Robin, you've made things tremendously bright for my mother this winter--andfor my father, too. I didn't know whether mother'd be happy here inWassumsic after being so busy in New York but it was the only way Icould stop her from working her head off and I'd decided _my_ shoulderswere 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 MotherLynch--as if the debt were not on her side. They had reached the Manorgate now and Dale handed her the packages. 

"Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, so don't you beworrying your little head, " he admonished and strangely enough Robinanswered him with a smile. _He_ was different. 

But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's "sulk" had grown, likethe gathering clouds of an impending storm, into a big gloom that didnot lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left alone in thelibrary with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books. Fromover the edge of "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccupationand 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 Iused to have. I had it when I played on Christmas night and oh, I feltas though I'd always have it--it just tingled in my fingers and made myheart almost burst and then--it went away. I can't rouse it now. I don'teven know--what made it come--inside me. But I do know that I'm as faraway 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 oldJacques Henri to help me!"

Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an odd feeling as thoughBeryl--the first girl friend she had ever had--might be slipping awayfrom 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 therest of the money--what I saved from the Queen's Christmas giftand--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 mefor living here--with a few clothes thrown in. Don't think I don't knowwhat those horrid creatures at the Mills say about me being proud andtoo stuck-up to work like Dale and the others. They even taunt Dale. Ihate myself when I think of it. And all I'm earning wouldn't keep mevery 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 wasafraid for Beryl looked like a different being. And, while shehesitated, Beryl flung herself out of the room. 

Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry and perplexitywrinkling her face. Everything was so stupidly hard; no matter what shetried or wanted to do--she ran up against a wall of pride. Her poorlittle treasured money that she had kept in the heart-shaped box! If shehad 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 becounted--and spurned--in dollars and cents!

CHAPTER XIX

GRANNY

Thoroughly exhausted by the nervous strain of the day before Robin sleptlate. When she awakened it was to the alarming realization that Berylwas not with her--her bed was empty, the room deserted, from thebathroom came no sound of splashing water, with which Beryl usuallyemphasized her morning dip. 

The unhappy happenings of the evening just past flashed into Robin'smind. 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, payingcareful 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 shehad breakfast. "

"Did she--did she have a bag?" faltered poor Robin. 

"Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 'near as I canremember. 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'ssmart enough to know when things are soft. "

"Don't you ever, _ever_ say that again, Harkness! Beryl didn't want tostay here in the first place. She's proud and she's fine and she hadambitions 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. Shethought 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 leftalone here--"

"Now, Missy! Miss Robin! Old Harkness'll go straight down to the villageand bring Miss Beryl--"

Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm. "I just said that to punishyou. 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 goall 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 thekitchen to your own sunny room?"

Robin knew she would break the old man's heart if she refused hisservice so she climbed back up the stairs to the sunny window of thedeserted sitting-room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And as shesat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia, sitting straight amongthe cushions of the chaise longué, staring at her with faded, unblinkingeyes. Beryl had not taken the doll!

A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. Beryl had _wanted_ tomake her feel badly. But why--oh, what had she done?

"You can stay there, Cynthia. _I_ won't touch you, " she cried, turningto the window, and at the same time she registered the vow in her heartthat by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl know how herdesertion had hurt her. 

A week of stormy weather, which made the roads almost impassable, helpedRobin. She threw herself into her studies with a determination almost asupsetting to Percival Tubbs as her former indifference. And when thestudies were over she buried herself in the great divan before thelibrary fire with books piled about her while Harkness hovered near athand, watching her with an anxious eye. 

Robin did not always read the open page. Sometimes, holding it beforeher, she let her mind go over word by word what Dale had said to her asthey walked home from the store. It had not been much, to be sure, butit had been enough to make her feel that her Prince had opened his heartto her, oh, just a tiny bit. With her blessed powers of imagination andwith what Beryl had told her from time to time concerning him, she couldput everything together into a beautiful picture. 

Dale was splendid and brave--_he_ had not been afraid of being poor! Andhe dreamed, too, like Sir Galahad, but a dream of machinery. And he hadhad a beautiful light in his face when he had said that about hisshoulders being broad enough to support his family. Oh, Robin wished shecould see him in a scarlet coat like Sir Galahad wore in the picture. 

The snowstorm abating, Robin sent Williams to the village with a basketof flowers for Mrs. Lynch and fruit for big Danny, and Williams broughtback a tenderly grateful little note from Mrs. Lynch--but not a wordfrom Beryl. 

"Everything must be all right or she'd have told me, " Robin assuredherself. "Anyway Mr. Norris would be _afraid_ to arrest anyone likeDale. "

What Robin did _not_ know--for it was not likely to disturb theManor--was that something far crueller than Norris was claiming theanxiety of the Mill workers. A malignant epidemic had lifted its uglyhead and had crept stealthily into several homes, claiming its victimsin 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 andmade it difficult to get hands. So, at its first appearance he calledthe Mill doctor into consultation, and urged him to do everything in hispower to check the advance of the disease. 

The Mill doctor, an overworked man, wanted to tell Norris that it was apity that the whole "old village" had not gone up in smoke, but herefrained from doing so; instead spoke optimistically of the weatherbeing in their favor, and went away. 

On an afternoon three weeks after Beryl's sudden and inexplainabledeparture, the drowsy quiet of the old Manor was broken by a shrillvoice lifted in frenzied protest against Harkness' deeper tones. Itbrought Percival Tubbs from his nap, Mrs. Budge from the pantry andRobin from the library. There in the hall stood poor little Susy, herold 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 aguilty 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. Shewas 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 withthe big girl. Tell me, what is the matter?"

Suddenly Susy pulled at Robin's hand and, still sobbing, dragged herresolutely toward the door. Robin caught something about "Granny. "

"Something dreadful must have happened to frighten her, " Robin declaredto the others. "Won't you tell Robin, Susy? Do you want Robin to go withyou to Granny's?"

At this Susy nodded violently, but when Robin moved to get her wraps sheburst forth in renewed wailing and clung tightly to Robin's hand. 

"Harkness, please get my coat and hat and overshoes. I'm going back withSusy. Something's happened--"

"Miss Gordon, indeed, you better not--" implored Harkness. 

"Hurry! Haven't you tormented the poor child enough? Don't stand therelike wood. If you don't get my things _at once_ I'll go bareheaded!"

Harkness went off muttering and Percival Tubbs advanced a protest whichRobin 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 tothe village, with difficulty keeping up with Susy, leaving behind in thegreat hall of the Manor an annoyed tutor, a worried butler and anoutraged housekeeper. 

More than one on the village street turned to stare at the strangelittle couple, Susy, pale with fright, two spots of angry red burningher cheeks, running as though possessed, and Robin limping after herwith amazing speed and utterly indifferent to anyone she met. 

As they neared the old village Susy's pace suddenly slowed down andRobin 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!" Susymanaged to impart between gasps. 

A terrible fear gripped Robin. Perhaps Granny was dead! And herapprehension was confirmed when a neighbor of the Castles rushed out tohead her off. 

"Don't go in there! Don't go in there!" she cried, waving the shawl shehad caught up to wrap around her head. "They've got the sickness. Theold woman's dead. Tommy's staying at Welch's. My man's reportin' it thismornin'. Poor old woman, went off easy, I guess, but it's hard on thekid. Say, Miss, you oughtn' get close to her. It's awful catchin' andyou c'n tell by the look o' her she's got it, too. " And the neighboredged away from Susy. 

In a sort of stupefied horror Robin looked at the neighbor, the wretchedhouse and Susy. Susy had begun to cry again, quietly, and to trembleviolently. 

"Susy Castle, you go like a good girl into the house n' stay 'til thedoctor comes and takes you, " commanded the woman. "Don' you come nearanyone! Y' got the sickness! See y' shake!"

"Go _'way_!" screamed Susy, clinging to Robin. Robin pulled her furfrom 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 herduty. "If y' take my advice you'll leave the kid there 'til some'uncomes. They'll likely take her t' the poor-house!" And with thischeerful 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'llgo back to the big house and Robin'll make you nice and warm. "

"I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her miserable little worldrocking about her. 

Robin straightened and looked at the house. Granny was dead, theneighbor had said; nothing more could be done for her. But something inthe desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy window stuffedwith its rags, smote Robin. Poor Granny must have died all alone. No onehad even whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. Robinknew little of death; to her it had always meant a beautiful passing tosomewhere, with lovely flowers and music and gentle grief. This washorribly different--there was no one left but little Susy and she wasgoing to take Susy away at once. Ought she not to just go softly intothat house and do _something_--something kind and courteous thatGranny, somewhere above, might see--and like?

"Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment. " She walked resolutelyaround to the door which Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At thethreshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers racing down herspine, catching her breath, bringing out tiny beads of moisture on herforehead. She had never seen a dead person--had she the courage?

She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring straight ahead. Inits centre she stopped and looked slowly, slowly around as thoughdragging her gaze to the object she dreaded--across the littered table, the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots and pans, the dirtyfloor, an overturned chair, the smoke-blackened lamp and last--last tothe 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 almostscreamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. Strangely enough therewas a smile on the worn, thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robinthought it had just come--she liked to _think_ it had just come. It gaveher courage. She smoothed the dirty gray covers and folded them neatlyacross the still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. Then shelooked about. Her eyes lit on the faded pink flowers that still adornedthe what-not. Moving with frightened speed she caught them up andcarefully laid them on Granny's breast. 

"They were beautiful once and so was poor Granny. Good-bye, Granny, " shewhispered, moving backward toward the door. Out in the air she leanedfor a moment weakly against the door jamb--then resolutely pulledherself together, and carefully closed the door behind her. 

Susy stood where she had left her. "Come, Susy, let's hurry, " Robincried. Catching the child's hand she broke into a run, wondering if shecould get back to the Manor before that dreadful sickening thing insideof her quite overcame her. 

But at that moment Williams appeared in the automobile, jumped from theseat and caught Robin just as she started to drop in a little heap tothe ground. 

"Miss Robin!" he cried in alarm. 

The feel of his strong arms and the warmth and shelter of his great coatsent the life surging back through Robin's veins. She laughedhysterically. 

"Take us home, quick, " she implored. And so concerned was Williams thathe made no protest at lifting Susy into the car. 

Both Harkness and Mrs. Budge, with different feelings, were waitingWilliams' return in the hall of the Manor. Harkness, with real concern, (he had despatched Williams) and Mrs. Budge with defiance. She had justannounced that she'd stood about as much as any woman "who'd give herwhole life to the Forsyths ought t' be expected to stand" when Robinhalf-carried Susy into the Manor. 

"Harkness, _please_--Susy's very ill. Will you carry her to my room andcall 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 myname's Hannah Budge. We've had just 'bout as much of these commoncarryings-on as I'll stand for with Madame away and--"

"But, oh, _please_, Mrs. Budge, Susy's very sick and her grandmother'sjust 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 atleast--one of you? Get out of my way!" And half carrying--half draggingSusy, Robin staggered to the stairs and slowly up them. 

Poor Robin vaguely remembered Jimmie once commanding Mrs. Ferrari to putone of her brood into a tub of hot water into which he mixed mustard. SoRobin filled her gleaming tub with hot water and quickly undressed Susyand put her, wailing, into it. Then she rushed to the pantry, commandeered a yellow box, fled back and dropped a generous portion ofits contents into the tub. Next she spread a soft woolly blanket on herbed, wrapped another around the child and rolled her in both untilnothing but the tip of a pink nose showed. 

She found Harkness hovering outside in the hall and ordered him to bringhot lemonade at once, taking it a few minutes later from him through thehalf-open door with a gleam of contempt in her eyes which said plainly"Coward. " She slowly fed Susy, watching the child's face anxiously andwishing the doctor would come quickly. 

After an interminable time Dr. Brown came, a little shaky, and gray-eyedand very concerned over his call to the Manor. After a carefulexamination he reported to Percival Tubbs and Harkness that the childwas, indeed, desperately ill; that by no means could she bemoved--although it was of course a pity that Miss Forsyth had soimpulsively brought her to the Manor and thus exposed herself; that thecrisis might come within the next twenty-four hours, for evidently thedisease was well advanced before the grandmother succumbed; that hewould telegraph at once for a fresh nurse from New York as the one inthe 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 PercivalTubbs, who had slipped quietly to the station and taken the eveningtrain to New York. Harkness sat outside of Robin's door, his earstrained for the slightest sound within. And Mrs. Budge worked far intothe night writing a letter to Cornelius Allendyce, commanding thatgentleman to come to the Manor and see for himself how things were goingand put an end, once and for all, to the whole nonsense--that she'd upand walk out if it weren't for her loyalty to Madame Forsyth, a loyaltysadly strained in the last few months. Of course she did not write allthis 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 totell Robin that she had shown remarkable judgment in her care of Susyand that--if the child pulled through--it would be due entirely to herprompt and thorough action. This little thought helped Robin through thelong hours, when her weary eyelids stuck over her hot, dry eyes and herhead ached. All night she willingly fetched and carried at the doctor'scommand, stepping noiselessly, sometimes lingering at the foot of thebed to watch the little face for a sign of change. 

Far into the morning the vigil lasted. Then Dr. Brown, his face haggardbut his eyes shining, whispered to Robin to go off downstairs and eat agood 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 flushof fever had gone, the lips and eyelids had relaxed into the naturalrepose of sleep. She tiptoed into the hall, deserted for the moment, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Budge turned as she pushedopen the door. 

"I--I--" The warm, sweet smell of the room sent everything dancingbefore Robin's eyes. She reached out her hand as though groping forsupport. "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 visitthe House of Forsyth. Not that it could mean much to Madame, for shehadn't set eyes on this girl Gordon, but it gave her, Hannah Budge, asick feeling "at the pit of her stomach" to think of things going wrongagain! So when Robin just dropped into her arms like a dead little thingshe 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, tighteningher clasp. And as she looked down at Robin she remembered how Robin hadkissed her on Christmas night. Something within her that was hard likerock commenced to soften and soften and grow warm and glow all throughher. Her eyes filled with tears and because both hands were occupied andshe could not wipe them away, she shook her head and two bright dropsrolled down her cheeks into Robin's face. At that moment--even beforeHarkness brought his water--Robin stirred and opened her eyes andsmiled. 

"Oh--where am I? Oh--yes. Oh, I'm _so_ hungry!"

But Budge was certain Robin was desperately ill; under her directionHarkness carried her to Madame's own room while Mrs. Budge followed withblankets and a hot water bottle. At noon the nurse arrived from NewYork, and that evening the word spread to every corner of Wassumsic thatlittle Miss Forsyth had the "sickness. "

CHAPTER XX

ROBIN'S BEGINNING

Robin had done something that couldn't be counted--or spurned--indollars and cents. 

From door to door in the village the story spread; how Robin had goneinto the stricken cottage which even the neighbors shunned, and hadperformed a last little act (and the only one) of respect for poor oldGranny, then, with her own fur around the child's neck, had taken Susyback to the Manor. The doctor told of Robin's sensible care and how ablyshe had shared with him the night's long vigil. The story was told andre-told with little embellishments and often tears; the girls in theMill repeated each detail of it over their lunches, the men talked aboutit 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 suddenlywagged loudest in Robin's praise; some boldly foretold the beginning ofa "better day. " All felt the stirring of a certain, all-promising beliefthat 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 wastoo dreadful--She ought never to have gone into Granny Castle'shouse--or touched Susy. 

Among the books Robin loved so well Beryl waited in a dumb misery forhours, for some word. Harkness only shook his old head at her and Mrs. Budge ignored her. Finally, standing the suspense as long as she couldshe crept to the stairs and up them and in the hall above encountered acherry-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 thatold man and woman know--they've been hounding me to let them see her andI'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. Whatif Robin were too ill to talk, to even listen--

Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It took a moment for her tosingle out the great canopied bed from the other mammothfurnishings--or to take in the small figure that occupied the exactcentre of that bed. 

"Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in amazement for the littlecreature who smiled at her from a pile of soft pillows looked likeanything but a sick person; the vivid hair glowed with more alivenessthan ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, tinted the creamyskin. A tray remained on a low table by the bed, its piled dishesindicative of a feast. Beryl's amazed eyes flashed last to these thenback to Robin's smiling face. 

"Oh, Beryl, I'm so glad, _glad_ you came!" Robin reached out her armsand Beryl rushed into them, clasping her own close about Robin. 

"I--I thought you were dreadfully sick, " she gasped, at last. She drewback and looked at Robin accusingly. "_Everyone_ thinks you'redreadfully sick. "

"Then I suppose I ought to be, " laughed Robin, "I'm not, though, I neverfelt better in my life. But, oh, right after I knew Susy would get welleverything inside of me seemed to break into little pieces. Then thatnice Miss Sanford came and put me to bed and nursed and petted and fedme and--here I am. She says I cannot get up until tomorrow. I'm soanxious 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) thatshe had been a mean, selfish, ungrateful thing to run away from theManor the way she had done and stay away--and to beg for Robin'sforgiveness. Now she found it difficult to say all this to a pinky, glowing Robin, and Robin, instinctively guessing what was passing inBeryl's mind, made her plea for forgiveness unnecessary by asking, witha 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 alonewith only Mr. Tubbs and Harkness and Mrs. Budge. But, Beryl, I thinkmaybe everything will be different now; the first thing I knew after Ifainted 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 wasgoing and after he reached New York he telephoned. "

"Dale says everyone at the Mills is talking about you, Robin--and whatyou 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 hasmade everyone like you. And they were getting awfully worked up againstthe Forsyths and the Mills. I will admit it seems funny to me--makingsuch a fuss over such a little thing. I wish--as long as you're allright now--you had done something real heroic, like jumping into theriver 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 howanxious she is--everyone is. People hang around our door. I suppose theythink 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. Shebegged 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. Certainvalues 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 Robinhad done, but the household of the Manor as well--old Budge, usually asadamant as a brick wall, crying! No one loved the heroic more thanBeryl, but to her thinking it lay in a spectacular, and with a dramaticindifference, risking one's own life for another, not in a littleunnecessary sentimental impulse. When she had heard of what Robin haddone she had declared her "crazy" to go near the Castles, to which hermother had indignantly replied: "And are you thinking the blessed childever thinks of herself at all?" _That_ was the quality, of course, aboutRobin that you never guessed from anything she said but that you justfelt. And the Mill people were feeling it now. 

Turning these thoughts over and over, Beryl suddenly faced thedisturbing conviction that she was moulding her own young life on veryopposite lines. Tell herself as often as she liked--and it wasoften--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 wasgiving--to Dale, who carried a double burden, to poor big Danny, to herbrave little mother who had sheltered her so valiantly from thecoarsening things about her that she might keep "fine" and have "fine"things. 

The next day the nurse let Robin dress, to poor Harkness' tearfuldelight. And Robin, roaming the house as though she had returned to itfrom a long absence, found, indeed, the change she had prophesied. ForMrs. Budge, in strangely genial mood, was fussily preparing moredelectable invalid dishes than a dozen convalescing Susies or wellRobins could possibly eat. 

One little cloud, however, shadowed Budge's relief. She wished shehadn't sent the letter to the lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how mygrandmother always said to look out for the written word, and held mytongue, " she mourned and so complete was her transformation that sheforgot she had written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty tothe 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 tohim at Miami where he had been pleasantly recuperating from his siege ofsciatica. It had disturbed him tremendously, and he had spent the longhours on the railroad train upbraiding himself for his neglect of hisward. The conditions at which Budge had clumsily hinted grew moreserious as he thought of them, until he found himself wondering ifperhaps he ought not to smuggle his little ward back to her fifth-floorhome before Madame discovered the havoc she had made of the Forsythtraditions. 

Outwardly, the Manor appeared the same, to the lawyer's intense relief. Within, the most startling change seemed the laughing voices thatfloated out to him from the library. Harkness took his coat and hat andbag 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 lydyguest 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 werenever, _never_ coming! I'm so glad. But why didn't you send us word? Iwant 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 anda tender, merry mouth. And Beryl (whom Budge had called "that youngperson") did not seem at all coarse or unwholesome. He did not noticethat the clothes both wore were simple and inexpensive--he onlyregistered the impression that the mother seemed quiet and refined andthe 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 inhis little ward. This spirited, assured young person could not be thesame 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 learnthe lessons he gave me. But, oh, I haven't wasted my time, truly, forI've gotten more out of these precious books here than I ever got outof school. Guardian dear, _they've_ made me grow. I don't think mypretend stories any more, either. I can't seem to, for everything aboutme is so real and so big and so--so important. " Robin imparted thisinformation with a serious note in her voice--as though she feared herguardian might be sorry that she had put her childish "pretends" behindher. 

"Dear me, " he said, "then we won't know whether you meet the Prince inthe last chapter and live happily ever after? You _have_ grown up; Ican't get used to it. "

Robin blushed furiously at this and changed the subject lest herguardian 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 thestory of Susy, and Robin's visit to the old house. She told it simplybut in its every detail so that Robin's guardian could follow it veryclosely. He listened, with his eyes dropped to the rug at his feet, andfor a few moments he kept them there, so that Mrs. Lynch wondered if hewere angry. Then suddenly he looked at her and a smile broke over hisface. 

"Our little girl's letting down a few barriers, isn't she?" he asked, and Mrs. Lynch, understanding him with her quick instinct, nodded withbright eyes. 

"Ah, 'tis true as true what my old Father Murphy once said to me--thatwealth is what you give, not what you get!"

The most amazing thing to the lawyer in the new order was the cheerfulimportance, and the new geniality of Hannah Budge. Accustomed as he was, from long acquaintance with the family, to her sour nature, he caughthimself watching her now in a sort of unbelief. He understood herattentiveness to his comfort when she touched his arm and begged a wordwith him. 

"It's about that letter, " she whispered, her eyes rolling around for anypossible eavesdropper. "I'll ask you not to tell Miss Gordon nor TimothyHarkness. I'm old and new ways are new ways but I'll serve Miss Gordonas I've always served the Forsyths. "

A dignity in the old housekeeper's surrender touched CorneliusAllendyce. He patted her shoulder and told her not to worry about theletter; to be sure it had spoiled a rather nice golf match but he oughtto have run up to Wassumsic long before. 

"The little girl I found isn't such a bad Forsyth, after all?" he couldnot resist asking her, however. But Harkness, appearing at that moment, spared Mrs. Budge the unaccustomed humiliation of admitting she had beenwrong. 

After dinner Robin persuaded her guardian to walk with them to thevillage while they escorted "Mother Lynch" home, and then stop at theHouse of Laughter. There, Beryl lighted the lamps and Robin led a tourof inspection through the rooms, telling her guardian as they went, ofher beautiful plans and their failure. At a warning sign from Beryl sheregretfully left out the generous contribution of their mysterious Queenof Altruria. Most of the furniture, she explained, had come from theManor garrets. 

While they were talking a knock sounded at the door. Robin opened it tofind 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'lllet us meet here. "

"Of course you can meet here!" Robin made no effort to control thesurprise in her voice. "That's what this little house is for. "

"Maybe you'll join, sometime. As an honorary member or something likethat--" 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, turnedand went back to the village. Robin closed the door and leaned againstit 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 withwhich your education has gone forward. Some people die at an old agewithout acquiring one smallest part of the human understanding you arelearning 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 justwant the people here to think that a Forsyth cares whether they're happyor not. Dale says I didn't start right and maybe I didn't--butanyway--"--She nodded toward the door as though Sophie might still be onthe threshold, "_they're_ a beginning!"

Her guardian did not answer this and looked so strange that Robin wentno further in her confidences. Perhaps something had displeased him, shemust wait until some other time to tell him about Dale and his model andher visit to Frank Norris. 

Back in the library, before the crackling fire, Robin begged Beryl toplay 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 asearching look upon her. "Come here and sit down and tell me aboutyourself. "

"Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, triumphantly. 

The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out Beryl's story--of the simplehome in the tenement from which her mother shut out all that wascoarsening and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her tastes withdreams she persistently cherished against disheartening odds; of theBelgian musician who had first taught her small fingers and fired herambitions for only the best in the art; of school and the lessons shedevoured because she craved knowledge and the advantages of possessingit. 

"How long have you lived here?"

"We came last summer. Dale wanted to work where there were machines andhe 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, andit takes such a lot. "

"Yes, and courage, too, " added the lawyer softly, as though he werespeaking to himself. 

Beryl abruptly lifted her violin from her lap to put it in the case. Asshe did so, its head caught in the string of green beads which, inhonor of the occasion, she was wearing. The slender cord that held themsnapped 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, " Berylexplained, 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 carefor them you'd better let me take them back to New York with me and havethem strung on a wire that will not break. "

"Oh, let him, Beryl. And he can have a good clasp put on. You know yousaid that clasp was poor. "

Beryl hesitated a moment. Ought she to tell him the beads were hermother's and that her mother prized them dearly? No, he might laugh atanyone's caring a fig about just plain beads. She took the envelopeRobin brought her, dropped the beads into it, sealed it, and gave it toRobin's guardian. 

Cornelius Allendyce slept little that night. He laid it to the extremequiet of the hills; in reality his head whirled with the amazingimpressions that had been forced upon him. 

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, staring at the night light. And herepeated it again and again; once, when he thought of the littlewoman, Mrs. Lynch, with the dreaming eyes which seemed to see beyondthings. What was the absurd thing she had said? "'Tis what you give andnot what you get is wealth. " Extraordinary! And where had Robin pickedup these notions concerning the Mill people? And her House ofWhat-did-she-call-it? There was considerable significance about it. Uncanny, downright uncanny, though, for a girl her age to have such afar-reaching vision. Probably the child didn't realize, herself. Well, there was Jeanne d'Arc, and others, too, he pondered, hazily. And thistalented girl Robin had found--a most unusual girl, who'd grown up in atenement like a flower among weeds, yes, he'd seen such flowers growingamid rankest vegetation! She was not unlike Robin, herself. His mindcircled to Robin's own little fifth-floor nest and the horrible odors ofthat dark stairway. Strange, extraordinary, that these two lives hadcrossed. "This world's a queer world!" Both girls brought up in apoverty that denied them all those jolly sort of advantages young girlsliked, and yet each sheltered by a mother's great love from the thingsin poverty that coarsen and hurt. "Aye, a mother's love, " and the littlelawyer 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 satbolt upright in bed. All right to think about letting downbarriers--whose barriers were they? Proud old Madame loved thosebarriers--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 guardiandrew his watch from under his pillow and held it to the tiny shaft oflight. "Half-past-one!" Well, he did not need to cross that bridge untilhe came to it! He dug his tired head into his pillow and went to sleepto dream of Madame Forsyth and Robin and Jeanne d'Arc sitting in asocial 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 ifyou say I ought to, but I just hate to. I don't want to meet the youngpeople, there. And I'm dreadfully afraid of Mrs. Granger since Susyspoiled her dress. "

"Mrs. Granger was one of your Aunt Mathilde's closest friends--until thedeath of young Christopher. Then, in the strange mood your auntencouraged, she let the intimacy drop. I've often wondered if theGrangers did not resent that. You have an opportunity now, Robin, torestore the old terms between the two families, so that when your--auntreturns she will find the old tie awaiting her. "

Robin stared, wide-eyed, at her guardian. It was the first time he hadspoken of her aunt's return. 

"When is my aunt coming back? Do you know I never _think_ of her comingback? Isn't that dreadful? I know she won't like me--"

"Don't let's worry about that now, " broke in Cornelius Allendyce withsuspicious haste. And Harkness, standing stiffly by the table, waitinginstructions, fell suddenly to rearranging the books and magazines whichhad been in perfect order. 

Mrs. Granger's chauffeur had brought a note to the Manor asking Robin tomake them a few days' visit during the coming week. "My son and daughterhave some young people here and you will find it a lively change fromthe 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'svery important. "

"Can't it wait until I come again? I'd have to go back to New Yorktomorrow, my dear, anyway. Come, this little visit of yours is asnecessary to your education as a Forsyth as any of Mr. Tubbs' tiresomelessons. And then, as I said, you can win back my lady Granger'saffection. "

"Well, I'll go, " cried Robin, in such a miserable voice that Beryl gaveher a little shake. 

Beryl saw in the visit all kinds of adventure. First, Robin must keepher eyes open and determine whether Miss Alicia Granger still mournedfor young Christopher or whether she was faithless to his memory. Thenthere'd be the young people, probably from New York, with all kinds ofnew clothes and new slang and new stories of that happy whirl in whichBeryl fancied all young people of wealth lived. And then there was theson, Tom. And Robin could wear the white and silver georgette dress. 

"I wish it were you going instead of me, " Robin mourned, not at allencouraged by Beryl's enthusiasm. "You're so tall and pretty, Beryl, andcan 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 Krausand Dale had spoken of the Granger Mills as though they were almostperfect. She wanted to see them, at least, on the outside. 

With a heart so heavy that she scarcely noticed the sheen of soft greenwith which the early spring had dressed the hills, Robin arrived atWyckham, the Granger home, at tea time. She was only conscious of awide, low door, level with the bricked terrace, flanked by stone seats;that this door opened and revealed a circle of merry-voiced young peoplegathered around a great fireplace. As the impressive under-butler tookher bags from Williams one of the group rose quickly and came towardher. She was very tall and slender with an oval-shaped face and aprominent nose like Mrs. Granger's. Robin knew she was Miss Alicia. Sheanswered something unintelligible to Miss Alicia's informal greeting andlet herself be drawn into the circle. 

There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere from sixteen totwenty--three very pretty, obviously conscious of their modish garmentsand wanting everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, RosalynCrane, tall and tanned and strong in limb and shoulder, with frank darkeyes and red lips which smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-whiteteeth. Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and promptlytucked Robin under her wing. 

For the next several hours life moved forward for Robin at such adizzying pace that she felt as though she were sitting apart from herbody and watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had never dreamedof doing before; the noisy tea-circle, the room she shared with the nicegirl, the casual welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silverdress and the silver slippers that matched, the beautiful drawing roomso alive with color and jollity, the long table gleaming with crystaland silver, the voices, voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shouldersand 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 hadspoken to her, the other--Tom. 

Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed with fine lines thatcurved up when he smiled. He patted her on the shoulder and said: "AForsyth girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. And she wasnot afraid of him and answered easily and not in the tongue-tied way shespoke 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 andRobin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite comfortable by acting asthough they were old acquaintances and did not need to keep up a fire ofbanter like the others. 

The next morning Robin came downstairs to find the house deserted exceptfor the noiseless butlers who stared at her as though she were somestrange freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for Tom, coming infrom the garage, greeted her with a pleasant: "Say, you're an earlybird, aren't you?" and then directed one of the butlers to bring hersome breakfast in the sun-room. 

"_You've_ got some sense. Al's crowd will miss half of this gloriousday!" he commented, leading Robin into a glass-enclosed room, in thecentre of which splashed a jolly fountain. 

Tom sat with her while she ate the breakfast the Jap brought on alacquered tray. He kept up a fire of breezy talk just as though she werethe nice Rosalyn Crane. It was mostly about the baseball nine atHotchkiss, of which he was manager, and the new golf holes and aninter-school swimming match and such things, concerning which poorRobin knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that Robin did notfeel in the least shy or awkward. 

"Say, don't you want to go with me while I try out my new car? The roadtoward 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'sfriends--except Rosalyn. Tom took her back to the garage and tucked herinto half of the low seat and climbed in beside her. 

For the next two hours they tore back and forth over the Cornwall roadat a pace that caught Robin's breath in her throat. Occasionally Tomtalked, but most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes on theroad ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, as though the innocentstretch 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 wentoff into rollicking laughter. "Why she _eats_ the road! Dad said Icouldn'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 theriver were rows of neat little white cottages, each with a yard, alreadygreen. 

"Best mills in New England. But Dad's prouder of his model village--asMother calls those cottages over there--than of his profit sheet. Andlook at the school--Dad wanted a school good enough for his own son anddaughter, but Mother wouldn't let us go. I wish she had--I'll betthere's enough good batting material right in this town to whip everynine 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 seensomething that made her heart leap into her throat; Adam Kraus walkinginto the office building carrying the square box with the leatherhandles, 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 theForsyth 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 outwith amazing speed. 

"Take me to his office, oh, _please_ take me, " she begged, with suchearnestness that Tom wondered if she'd gone "clean dotty. "

Inside the office building there was no sign of Adam Kraus, for thereason, though Robin did not know it, that it was his second visit; hewas there by appointment, and he had used a stairway that led directlyto Mr. Granger's office, while Tom took Robin through the main officewhere a neatly dressed girl blocked their way. 

Mr. Granger was busy but the young lady could wait, this efficient youngperson informed them, quite indifferent to the fact that she addressedThomas Granger and Gordon Forsyth. And Robin walked into an enclosure, half consulting room, half waiting room, and sat down with fast beatingheart, upon a leather and mahogany chair. 

"I'll wait out here 'til you see Dad, " Tom told her, to her relief, andshe heard him telling one of the clerks how his "baby" could make sixtyas easy--

Suddenly Robin took in other voices, one deep, one soft and drawling. Adoor 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 findDoran, now. " There came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, themodel will be quite safe here. I want Doran to point out one or twothings on our new loom. It will only take a moment. Then we'll bringhim 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. Shestepped 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 wickedman, the traitor--to betray Dale's trust, his friendship!

The office was quite empty. And on the big desk, amid a litter of papersand letters and books and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsybox. 

Robin caught it up and held it close to her, defiantly. She snatched apencil and scrawled a few lines on the back of an envelope, then shetiptoed 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 thoughhundreds of eyes accused her; in reality only a few lifted from the workof the day to stare at the young girl Tom Granger had brought to see hisfather. And if anyone wondered why she carried the queer box, no one ofthem 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 andturned 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 carrythe box and she let him, for fear, if she refused, he might suspectsomething. Queer shivers raced up and down her spine and a dreadfulsinking feeling attacked her heart and dragged at her throat so that shecould scarcely speak. 

He helped her into the car and climbed in himself. He leisurelyexperimented with the gears, until Robin almost screamed in her anxiety. Then just as he started the motor, a shout hailed them from the officedoor, and both turned to see Adam Kraus tearing down the stepsbareheaded, wildly waving his arms, followed by a half-dozen clerks andMr. Granger, himself. 

"Go! _Go!_" implored Robin, catching his arm, and so frightened rang hervoice that Tom instinctively obeyed and stepped on the accelerator withsuch force that the car shot forward. "Oh, _faster! Faster!_" shesobbed. "_He's coming. _" A backward glance had told her that Adam Krausintended to give chase; still bareheaded, he had jumped into a Fordstanding in the road. 

"Well, I don't know what we're running away from, but my baby can giveanything on wheels a good go-by!" laughed Tom, his eyes keen. He leanedover 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 carwith 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--butwhat--the--deuce--from? Who's that----fellow----following--us----why areyou----afraid?" He flung the words jerkily, sideways, at Robin. 

"I'll tell you--afterwards, " Robin gasped back. The wind whistled pasther, she lost her hat. She crouched in her seat, her hands clingingtightly to the box, her head turned as though expecting their pursuer toovertake 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. "Pullingsome----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, Iwouldn't have guessed you had all this spunk in you!" he took the timeto say, casting her an admiring glance. 

He made the turn and the "baby" ploughed through the soft rough road ata perilous clip. The road wound through thickly wooded hills, up anddown, apparently leading to nowhere. 

Suddenly it twisted up a long hill. Tom's car climbed easily, slackeningits speed for a few moments at the top. Turning, Robin could make outthe course over which they had come and, to her horror, the little carplunging over it. 

"Look--_look!_" she cried. 

"Well, I'll be--blowed!" Tom Granger stared as though he could notbelieve his eyes. "He saw the marks of my new tires, I guess. He's asharp one. Cheer up--we're not caught yet. " He increased the speed; theytore down the slope in breakneck haste. 

But, in the hollow, the car slopped out of the muddy ruts, gave asickening lurch sidewise and dropped with a jolt into mud to the axles. 

His face white with excitement Tom Granger tore at the gears, tried togo back, to go forward, but in vain. And, presently, they both heard thedistant 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 thefamiliar way in which she had addressed him. She had cleared the ditchand 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 amongthe leafing undergrowth. 

"Well, I'll--be--Oh, I _say_, Miss Forsyth, don't--" But the boy'sattention, quite naturally, turned to meet the enemy, who at that momentappeared over the crest of the hill. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE GREEN BEADS

Beryl waved Robin off to the Granger's with a forced cheerfulness. Leftalone, she sat in the room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily atthe disarray left from the frenzied packing and unpacking. 

Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people withtwo bags full of lovely clothes would ever, _ever_ happen to her!

In fact _nothing_ exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and onwanting things all her life. 

She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envyher, but she wished she could have just _some_ of the chances Robinhad--and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one ofRobin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham andhold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughtyAlicia had no terrors for _her_, and if they tried to snub her, she'dput her violin under her chin and then--

The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Berylheard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed thestairs and stopped outside of Robin's room. 

"Miss Beryl--a telegram. "

"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her lifeand 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 strugglingwith 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 theworld has happened? It doesn't sound awful, does it? Did you ever knowof 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 andscrutinizing 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 watchedthat go out and wished I was on it! And now I'm going to be. I'm goingto New York! Harkness, be a _dear_ and hurry some dinner, will you? I'llpack. And oh, will you take a note to mother for me? I'll not have timeto stop. Or wait--I won't tell her I'm going until I know what it'sfor--she'd worry. Isn't that best?"

"Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, don't you fret. AndJoe'll take you down to the station in the truck, he will, for like asnot he'll be meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who livesBoston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife--"

"Oh, that'll be _nice_. But please hurry, Harkness. That boy's waitingfor his book. And I can't think. "

Two hours later Beryl sat upright on the plush seat of the eveningtrain, her old suitcase at her feet packed with every garment shepossessed. 

"This is more fun than all your old house-parties, " she apostrophizedthe black square of window, which dimly reflected her glowing face. Thenshe lost herself in a delicious "I wonder" as to why she had beensummoned so mysteriously to New York. 

Cornelius Allendyce and Miss Effie met her at the end of her wonderfuljourney, no part of which had wearied her in the least, and theirsmiling faces put at rest the tiny misgiving that had persisted that shemight 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'vemade an important appointment for you tomorrow morning with a friend ofmine. " But not another word concerning the mystery would the lawyer say. Both he and his sister went about with a queer smile, and treated Berylas 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 toBeryl, patting down the neat white collar of Beryl's coat. 

Beryl thought of her words when she followed Mr. Allendyce through along dim room, crowded with treasures of fabric and ceramic, rich incoloring, fragrant of oriental perfumes. 

"He's a collector, " Cornelius Allendyce explained, nodding sideways andhurrying on to a room in the back, as though their errand had nothing todo 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; tome, the only man I can't beat at chess!"

A very small man rose from a great carved chair. He had a thin, leatheryface with an exaggerated nose, stretched out as though from sniffing forcurios in dusty dim corners. When he smiled his eyes shut and his mouthtwisted until he looked like a jolly little gnome. 

"Ah-ha! You admit you cannot beat me!" He spoke with a soft accent. "Andthis is the little lady who owns the green beads. " And he peered closelyat 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 thebeads?" As he spoke, he drew open a drawer, and took from it theenvelope Robin had given to her guardian. 

Beryl answered briefly, for the simple reason that she found difficultymanaging her tongue. 

"An--an old priest--back in Ireland--gave them--to us. He'd found themin an antique shop in London. "

"Ah, so! Just so! So! So!" crowed the gnome-like man, jumping up anddown in his great chair. "Now I will tell _you_ a story. "

"Once upon a time, as you say, a beautiful Queen of the fifteenthcentury, while travelling through a forest, came upon a roving band ofgypsies. So great was her beauty that the gypsy chief gave to her anecklace of precious jade, upon each bead of which had been tooled acrown, so infinitesimal as to be seen only through a strong lens. Thechief told the fair Queen that the necklace brought good fortune towhosoever possessed it. But so proud was the young Queen of the preciousbeads and the good fortune that was to be hers that she boasted of themto her Court and aroused the envy of many until a knave among hercourtiers stole them from her. For generations these beads, theworkmanship of a Magyar artisan, have passed from owner to owner, always mysteriously, for, because of the good fortune they had power tobestow, no one parted with them except from the most dire necessity, andonly lost them through theft. Ah, " he held up one of the glowing greenglobes, "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 atlast! It is many years since there has been any trace. " He stared atBeryl as though to see through her into the past. Then he roused quicklyand shook his shoulders. "They have hung about the necks of crownedpeople, good people--and wicked people. Perhaps they have brought goodfortune--as the Magyar chieftain said they would. Who knows? You, mydear--you are a girl with a sensible head on a pair of straightshoulders--tell me, do you care more for the superstition of thisnecklace--than for the money I will pay you for it--say, fifteenthousand dollars?"

Beryl stood up so suddenly that her chair tumbled backward, making acrashing 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 anhonest collector, " broke in Cornelius Allendyce. 

"Fifteen--thousand--dollars! Why, that's an _awfully_ big amount, isn'tit?" Beryl appealed helplessly to the lawyer. "Why--of _course_ I'llsell 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 magnifyingglass. "Look!" he commanded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, shemade out a tiny crown. 

She laughed hysterically. "I see it! I thought that was a scratch. Inever 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 itback. "But I'd much rather have the money than the beads even if a dozenqueens wore them. " Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the exoticatmosphere 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 careto think the sale over. However, I am giving you a final offer. You areyoung and--"

Beryl reached out both hands with childish impulsiveness. "Oh, I wantthe money _now!_ I want to spend it. I want--oh, you don't _know_ all Iwant--" She stopped abruptly, confused by the smiles on both men'sfaces. 

"Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment in cash and the rest I willdeposit in the bank to your credit, " explained Cornelius Allendyce. "You need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear; fortune likethis does not come often to anyone. It's hard, indeed, not to believethat the little beads _have_ magic. "

"I'm dreaming. I'm just _plain dreaming_ and I'll wake up in a minuteand find I'm Beryl Lynch, poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself asshe followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of the street. Shefelt of her bulging pocketbook, into which she had put the roll of billsthe little collector had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardianhad 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 neverforget. "

"Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? Oh, then--then--can I go tosee Jacques Henri and tell him? I know the way--I can take the NinthAvenue Elevated--or--Would it be _very_ foolish if I took a taxi?" Berylcolored furiously. 

"Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the taxi and keep it there toreturn to my house; then you and Miss Effie put your heads together anddecide just what you want to do first with your money. "

Beryl rejoiced that it was a nice shiny taxi, quite like a real lady'scar. She sniffed delightedly the leathery smell, sat bolt upright withher chin in the air. 

"Go straight down Fifth Avenue, " she instructed the driver. 

Spring, with its eternal sorcery, caressed the great city. Its spellthrew a sheen over the drab things Beryl remembered so well, the brickschoolhouse, the Settlement, the dirty narrow street flanked bydull-brown tenements with their endless fire escapes mounting higher andhigher, hung now with bedding of every color. The street swarmed withchildren returning from school, and they gathered about the automobileclimbing on to the running board on either side and peering through thewindows. 

"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 hadlived among them, neither she nor Dale had ever been of them, thanks toher mother's watchful care. She smiled at them and fled into the darkalley way that led to the court which, all through her childhood, hadbeen her playground. 

As she climbed, a dreadful thought appalled her. What if dear oldJacques Henri had moved away--or died! But, no, at the very moment shelet the fear halt her climbing step she heard the dear sound of hisviolin. She crept to his door and softly opened it. 

The old man stood near his window, through which he could see a slit ofblue sky between two walls. On the sill were the pink geraniums henursed through winter and summer, their pinkness brightening the gloomof 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 itcarefully upon the table. Then she pushed the startled old man back intothe one comfortable chair and perched herself upon its arm. 

"Listen, dear Jacques Henri, and I'll tell you the strangest story thatyou ever heard--about Queens and gypsies and green beads and a girl youknow. Don't say _one_ word until I'm through. " And Beryl told in all itswonderful detail, the happenings of the morning. 

"And don't you see what it means? I can begin to study at _once_! Rightthis 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 thestrings. 

"Play!" commanded Jacques Henri, without so much as a word for theAladdin-lamp tale she had told him. 

Beryl played and as she played she wished with all her might she couldsummon the power that had been hers on Christmas night. She wanted toplay 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 hissearching eyes. 

"Your fingers--they are clever, your ear is true--but there isnothing--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 hisgreat 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 goodmusic--and you have no word for what that money will mean to your saintof a mother--aye, the best woman God ever made! Shame to you, selfishgirl, that you should put your ambition before her dreams!"

The color dyed Beryl's face. "I never thought--" she muttered, thenstopped 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 affectionatelyupon Beryl's shoulder. "But you are young, my dear, and youth iscareless. Jacques Henri knows that there is good in you--my eyes arewise and I can see into your heart. It is an honest little heart--youwill heed in time. Ambition is a greedy thing--watch out that you keepit in your clever head and do not let it wrap its hard sinews about yourheart, crushing all that is beautiful there. Listen to me, child; thinkyou that your music can reach into the souls of people if you do notfeel that music in your own good soul? Your fingers may be clever andyour body strong, but your music will be cold, cold, if the heart insideyou is a little, cold, mean thing! Many's the one, I grant you, contentto feed the passing plaudits of the crowd, but not the master--he mustgo further, he must give of himself to all that they may carry somethingbeautiful 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'scharge. She had been scolded too often by this dear recluse to resentit; she had, too, faith in anything he might say. 

Then: "You just ought to know Robin, " she burst out, irrelevantly, eagerthat her old teacher should believe that, even though she might be aselfish, thoughtless girl herself, she could recognize and respect thegood qualities in others. 

"Forgive your old friend if he has hurt you. Go now to your blessedmother and lay your good fortune at her feet. That I might see herface!"

"And if she wants to use--_some_ of the money, will you help me?" askedBeryl, 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 thembetter inside their hearts! I wouldn't care _how_ nasty it tasted, " shemourned, impatient at the long, hard climb that must be hers if she evermade of herself what her Jacques Henri wanted. 

All of Miss Effie's coaxing could not keep Beryl from taking theafternoon 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 littlevalley, Moira Lynch set her lighted lamp in the window. She did not singtonight as she performed the customary ceremony, nor had she for manynights. Her throat seemed too tired, her arms dropped with the weight ofher lamp, a dull little pain at the back of her neck gripped her with apulling clutch. 

The doctor had told her she was "tired out. " She had gone to him verysecretly, 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 andhead and heart failed, who would take care of big Danny and keep alittle home for Dale and watch over Beryl?

With her habitual optimism she tried to laugh away her alarm, but thepulling ache persisted and her arms trembled under tasks that before hadseemed as nothing. She told herself that it was all her own fault thather big Danny seemed harder to please, but when, under a particularlytrying moment, she broke down and cried, she knew she was reaching theend of her endurance. 

"Did the train stop?" queried big Danny. 

"Sure and it did!" cried Mrs. Moira, trying to throw excitement intoher voice to please the invalid man. Big Danny took childish pleasure inlistening 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 defenseof her boy. 

"He'll be here any minute, " she said instead, comfortingly. "There he isnow!" Her quick ear had caught a step outside. 

Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted them. Suppressedexcitement, impatience, eagerness, an inward disgust of herself forbeing a "selfish thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such anunnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression that big Dannywhirled his chair toward her and Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over herheart. 

"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 cryingmyself! 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. Strangelystirred herself, she had to gulp once or twice before she could beginher 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 withwhich she had planned to lead up to the great surprise. She plungedabruptly to the point of the story. 

"Those beads. They _weren't_ just plain beads. They were a preciousnecklace made by some queer people, ages and ages ago. _Queens_ haveworn 'em and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from hand tohand--I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck--for all these years andthen, suddenly, no one could find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend--thecollector--gave me _this money_ outright for them and--"

Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She stood erect, her eyesflashing, 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 thatheld--me--to--my--dreams. " Her voice died off in a heart-broken whisperthat hurt Beryl to the soul. 

"Mother! Mother, _please_ don't. It isn't too late. I can get themback. I didn't know you cared, don't you see?"

Beryl of course did not know about the pulling ache at the back ofMother Moira's neck or she would have understood that her mother'shysteria was due partly to that. She had never seen her mother look soqueer 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 beadsthey were, but they belonged to the young part of me when my heart wasthat light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong that it hurt theinside of me. And nothing in this world was too fine for the likes of myDanny and me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking. And thenwhen the clouds come--" her hand pressed big Danny's shoulder ever solightly, "I told myself the dreams were my own and no one could _takethem_ away from me and if I couldn't make them come true, as true forhimself and me, sure, I'd keep them for my boy and girl. And 'twas thebeads 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, gavethem to me himself with his blessing and saying might my dreams cometrue! Ah, well--sure it's a punishment, maybe, for me wanting thingsjust for my own--"

"Mother!" broke in Beryl, sternly. "As if you could be punished foranything! Will you tell me one thing? Which would you rather have--thosebeads--or--or--a nice little farm in the hills with a cow and chickensand pigs and a little orchard and--and a Ford--and a girl to do thecooking so's you could stay with Pop, and Dale studying engineering insome college, if he wanted to, and me--"

"Beryl Lynch, are ye crazy?" cried big Danny, suspecting that the girlwas in someway trying to mock her mother. 

"_No_, I'm not crazy, though I ought to be, with old Jacques Henriscolding me and now mother--" She bit her lip childishly. "Will youplease just answer me, mother?"

"A farm--with a garden--and a cow--and trees and a good stretch of thegreen 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 bybig Danny's chair. "That's what I was trying to tell you. That man willgive you fifteen thousand dollars for those beads! Really, truly. See, he gave me all this money today. And Mr. Allendyce will put the rest inthe 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'spurse. 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 lightin her eyes. "May I be worthy of it!" Then she roused and laughed, atinkling laugh. "Ah--my girl shall have her music, now! Oh, it's toowonderful. "

"Where's Dale?" cried Beryl, her heart jubilant that the unexpectedcrisis 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 lookafter himself. "

"It's a fussing old hen I am, as true as true!" And because once moreher heart was so light inside of her that it hurt, she kissed her bigDanny on the top of his head. 

"I wish Dale would come. I ought to go back to the Manor. Harkness isprobably 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 spokenbut 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. Strangestthing you ever heard. She made young Tom Granger run off withher--goodness knows where they were headed for, and when his car wentinto the ditch she made a dash for the woods and that's the lastanyone's seen of her. "

"Why, Dale, she couldn't--" cried Beryl. 

"Couldn't? Easiest thing in the world. Woods are thick and miles deepthrough there. "

"I mean she couldn't be running off with Tom Granger. Why, she never methim 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 toNorris. They called me in. Seems Kraus had taken my model to sell toGranger, and called it his own, and Miss Gordon heard him. And she justwalked in when they weren't in the room and--took it. Granger wouldn'tsay any more. He's too worried. What I think is that Kraus chasedthem--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'sfour hours now and Granger's had a bunch of men hunting ever since hisson walked into the office and gave the alarm. Can you give me a bite ina hurry, Mom? The Manor car's going to take six of us over to meet youngGranger 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 thinggetting into this fix just for my model. Granger was awfully decentabout the thing; told Norris he was a fool not to jump at it. He said hehad 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 Icare, 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, CorneliusAllendyce 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 CorneliusAllendyce 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 hebrought no good news. 

"Tom telephoned from Cornwall at six o'clock. Not a sign. Not so much asa red hair! Strangest thing I ever heard of. They're going to searchthe ravines today--easy enough for her to stumble into them if she wasfrightened 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 thoughtof that a youngster like that would run off with that model. I want togive you the details of this whole matter--they'd be extremelyinteresting if one were not so concerned. " He told of his two interviewswith Adam Kraus and of Dale's invention. "A master contrivance. I can'tunderstand your man, here, letting it get away from him. Why, it's wortha lot to me, but in these Mills--well, you may not know what I think ofyour mills, " he laughed. "I'll tell you another time. The girl saw thisKraus go into my office, and persuaded my boy, who'd been taking her fora ride, to stop. She was waiting in my outer office and heard Krausclaim the invention as his own--scoundrel that he was--and when I tookKraus to see my head foreman, didn't she walk in, help herself to themodel and leave me this. " He drew an envelope from his pocket and handedit 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 suddenlyrecalled 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, Tomheaded toward Cornwall, then switched off on an unimproved road and cameto grief. Just as Kraus was about to overtake them the child ran offinto 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 hedid 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 hecame back after an hour's search he found Kraus and the Ford gone and hewalked back to South Falls. That's all. "

"That model may be worth a lot, but it is not worth another tragedy tothis 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 thelawyer's face. What a mess it all was, anyway--he had urged Robin to goto the Granger's in hopes that she'd bring the two families into closeintimacy 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 tokeep her hands off the Mill affairs until she was older. But down inhis heart he knew this was only a vexatious expression of hisconcern--you couldn't punish Robin for anything. 

"As her guardian I appreciate your alarm. I share it with you, not alonebecause Miss Forsyth was a guest at my house but because I took a greatfancy to the child. It struck me, as I looked at her, that her coming toWassumsic--to the Manor, might change things, here, quite a bit. "

"It has--it will, " mumbled Mr. Allendyce. For a moment, just to relievehis feelings, he wondered if he might not confide in this very human manthe ordeal he must face with Madame Forsyth when his reckoning came. 

"My wife is prostrated with it all. She does not know the particularsbut she is deeply concerned. I do not like to add to your worry but doyou 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 withher?"

"Why, every possibility in the world!" shouted Robin's guardian. "Whydid 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 longdistance call and then, while waiting, paced the room's length back andforth. Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued his ear to thecrack 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 forher homecoming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into the batter. 

In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, who did not even havethe heart to play with Susy, sat with her nose against the windowwatching 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 thedilapidated Ford approaching, snorting up the incline. Something aboutit 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. Thestrange-looking car had turned into the Manor gate. A man with longwhite whiskers was driving it. And yes, a bareheaded girl, who lookedlike Robin, sat on the back seat. It _was_ Robin. Beryl waved her handwildly and Robin answered. But who rode with her? Beryl's flying feetcame 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 Altruriawith her! Oh, _what'll_ we do?" For surely some ceremony befittingroyalty should be prepared. 

"The Queen of _what_--" cried Mr. Granger and Cornelius Allendycerushing from the library. "Oh, the girl's _crazy_--" asserted thelawyer. Nevertheless he ran to the door, followed by Mr. Granger andHarkness and Beryl and Hannah Budge and Chloe, who had heard Beryl'sglad 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 bewhiskeredscion of the Forgotten Village, clambered out the moment the car stoppedand fell into Beryl's arms. From their shelter, after the briefestinstant, she lifted her face to greet her guardian and found him staringat 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 MadameForsyth coldly, extending to Cornelius Allendyce the tips of herfingers. "Harkness, you look as though you were seeing a ghost!"

Her rebuking words had the effect of galvanizing poor Harkness' limbs toaction--but not his tongue. Though he hobbled down the steps and tookthe bag from the lawyer's hand, not a word could he speak from sheerstupefaction. 

And Hannah Budge so forgot her long years of loyalty to the House ofForsyth as to cry out--"Oh, Miss Robin!" before so much as one word ofgreeting for Madame Forsyth. 

"You could 'a clean knocked me over, " she explained to Harknessafterward, "Our Madame going away as fine as you please with thatbaggage 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, andwith Miss Robin, too, who they all thought was lost though _I_ knewbetter. Something _told_ me to beat up that cake yesterday!"

"And Miss Robin didn't know Madame was Madame, " explained Harkness, hisface perplexed. "She and Miss Beryl here've been thinking she was somemysterious lydy or other--Williams says they got it in their littleheads 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 circlelike. Only Williams says that lydy must be the lydy the young lydiesvisited, mysterious like, just afore Christmas and the lydy's our Madameall 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 happennow, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. First thing, I s'pose, she'll clearthat Castle young 'un out of the house and then your Miss Beryl. Andmebbe send Miss Robin off to school somewheres to get these commonnotions out o' her little head. You say they're all talking upstairsnow?"

"Only Madame and the lawyer man. Mr. Granger's gone down to the Mills tosend 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 Robintold Beryl the whole story of her adventure. On the window seat besidethem lay the square box containing Dale's model. 

"I just ran, Beryl, as fast as I could and _anywhere_. I was sofrightened I didn't stop to look. I fell down twice and the second timeI was so tired I could scarcely get up. But I had to. And then I thoughtI'd found a path, and I followed it, but it stopped at a ravine thatwas, _oh_, so deep. Well, I knew I was lost. I called and called and noone answered. And I heard all sorts of queer noises as though theremight be wild beasts. One came very close, I'm sure, though I couldn'tsee 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. Idecided 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 apencil and when I started to dig with my hands the ground was so gooythat I couldn't bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it. " She shuddered andBeryl held her hands tighter. "And it began to get dark. I tried to bebrave and say nothing could hurt me, but I couldn't help but hear thefunny noises and I was so _awfully_ alone. I started to walk again, justsomewhere, because when I walked I couldn't hear all the sounds andevery now and then I'd call out. And just as it was almost pitch dark inthe wood something big came rushing toward me and sprang at me and, Beryl, I fainted dead away! Well, the next thing I knew something waslicking my face. And someone was saying something queer, and Beryl, itwas Cæsar and that Brina from our House of Rushing Water! Cæsar hadheard me call and found me, and then he had barked and howled untilBrina 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'dgotten most to it and didn't know it. And the Queen was awfullyfrightened. But she wouldn't let me say a word; she made Brina put me inher 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 mefor I guess I shook like a leaf. You see, I couldn't _believe_ I wassafe and sound; I kept seeing that dog jump at me! And finally she sangto me, the nicest old-fashioned song and I went to sleep, and I neveropened my eyes until this morning, and there she stood by my bed with atray of nice breakfast. She wouldn't let me tell her how I got lostuntil I'd eaten every crumb. And then I felt so cosy and warm and safethat I told her everything--_everything_, all about Mother Lynch and howmy plans for the House of Laughter had failed at first, and then theRileys and what I thought of the Mills, and how horrid Mr. Norris wasand about Susy and poor Granny and Dale's model, and then what I'd doneat Grangers'. I just got started and I couldn't stop. And Beryl, I toldher _again_ how my aunt was an unhappy old woman who worried over herown 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 facein 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 feltthe way I had that other time, all fussed, because I'd bothered a Queenwith 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 sonice and perfumy--a different perfume. And that Brina had put thegorgeousest 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 MadameForsyth! After she took my tray out she came back, and she did look sortof funny, now I remember, the way one does when one decides suddenly todo something you hadn't dreamed of doing, and she told me Brina had goneinto the village to hunt up some sort of a vehicle to get me back to theManor. 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 surprisedyou'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 toneBudge had used. "When she finds out about Susy and me!"

And below in the library the same thought held Robin'sguardian--something must happen, now. 

He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth freshened herself afterher long ride. And while he waited, in considerable apprehension, heplanned the course he would follow; if Madame refused to accept littleRed-Robin as her heir, because she was a girl and _different_, why, he'dtake her back with him to his own home. She could live with him and hissister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt her if Jimmie wouldlet him. And he'd take Beryl, too, if Robin wished--and he'd see Susywas put with some nice family. 

But where in the world had Robin found her aunt--or her aunt foundRobin. Everyone acted as though they were knocked stupid by themystery--no one had offered a word of explanation. He rubbed hisforehead 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 theirunexpectedness. And turning, he saw (to his immense relief) that MadameForsyth was smiling--and in her eyes was a softened look, though theywere shadowed with fatigue. 

"I am immensely curious, I must admit, as to where you found Robin, butI feel that I owe you the first explanation. "

He told then, of his first visit to Patchin Place and of his findinglittle Robin in her curious surroundings. 

"I really cannot say just what put the notion in my head of taking herto 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 meonly that I am glad, now, that you kept silence. For I would have mostcertainly, then, sent her back. And--I am glad that never happened. Yousee _I_ can be honest, too. "

"Before I can explain my finding the child in this last plight of hers Imust tell you a little of my 'wanderings' since I left the Manor. Theywere not far. I went to New York and reserved passage on a steamersailing for the Mediterranean the next week. That evening I saw the 'forsale' notice of a house in the Connecticut woods, which advertisedabsolute seclusion. I telephoned to my banker, who has been in myconfidence, and he made a hurried trip to Brown's Mill and bought thehouse, just as it stood. The next day I discharged Florrie, cancelled mysailing reservations, picked up a strong German woman for a cook, boughta dog and rode out to my new home. It offered all that I had hoped itwould. There I planned to find a change that would be a rest, to forgetthe world about me and live in my past, which was all I had. And forseveral 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, andof the gifts they brought from the Manor. 

"I confess it was a shock to me to discover that this child was--GordonForsyth. 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 Ifound I could not hold my thoughts to my past--in spite of me theypersisted in dwelling upon the present--and the future. You see I amfrank with you. "

Cornelius Allendyce nodded. He dared not speak for he did not want tobetray the relief he felt. 

"I do not think I would have returned to the Manor for several weeksyet, for my health has singularly benefited by my--unusual change, except that this escapade of Robin's made me feel that I was neededhere. Something she said made up my mind for me, rather quickly. Cornelius Allendyce--that child has a great gift. It is the gift ofgiving. An unusual talent in the Forsyth family, you are thinking! Butlike all talents it ought to be trained and directed and strengthenedand 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 thenew ways but I am not too old to safeguard them. "

"You are a wonderful old woman, " the lawyer answered, quiteinvoluntarily and with such instant alarm at his audacity that MadameForsyth 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 Cæsar'sfinding Robin in the woods and giving the alarm. 

"The child was utterly exhausted. I cannot bear to think of what mighthave 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 unusualyoung person my niece has attached to my household. "

Then the lawyer remembered Beryl's great good fortune and that nothinghad 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 friendby 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 andsuch a small one--and lame, too--"

"Oh, my _dear_!" And Madame Forsyth held out her arms impulsively andRobin, her face aglow, snuggled into them. 

Every moment of that day something exciting and significant seemed tohappen. Ever so many people called, and it was fun to see their surpriseat finding Madame home. Aunt Mathilde, (Robin could not make the namesound natural) upon introduction, had acted as though she almost likedSusy, and Susy had looked very cunning in the new dress the nurse hadmade for her. And she hadn't said Susy would have to go! Then Robin flewoff, the very first moment, with Beryl to find Mrs. Lynch and _hug_ herover the wonderful fortune and talk about the farm which must be verynear Wassumsic. Then Beryl played for Aunt Mathilde and Aunt Mathildehad looked as though she "felt funny inside!"

And then Dale had come with Tom Granger, both of them looking haggardfrom 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 mustsay 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. "Youcertainly gave us a scare we won't forget in a hurry! But you're a goodlittle sport and I'm coming around, if I may, to take you for aride--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 CorneliusAllendyce were talking to Tom, and Beryl had eyes and ears only for thenice-looking lad, no one overheard what passed between them. 

"Miss Robin, I would never have forgiven myself if anything had happenedto 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 formy doll that I'd left there and you found me, crying. And you took mehome--to Patchin Place. I guess maybe you forgot, because you were bigand 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'dclean forgotten. " He sobered suddenly, and Robin knew it was because heremembered _why_ he had forgotten. His father had been hurt thatevening. 

He looked very big now and very much grown up and Robin wondered, with awild confusion sending her blood tingling to her face, would he rememberthat 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, MissRobin, you won't take any more chances for me!"

So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in her heart--not to beforgotten, but to be enjoyed, as a big-little girl enjoys taking outchildish toys or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressingthem tenderly, putting them back reverently--and feeling tremendouslygrown-up!

 * * * * *

A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down upon two heads close togetherat a wide-open window. The one was dark and the other red. And the sameyoung moon audaciously winked at the whispered confidences exchanged inthe brooding quiet of the night. 

"Oh, Robin, doesn't it seem an _age_ since you went off toGranger's?----So much has happened. I don't feel like the samegirl----Tom Granger's awfully nice looking----his eyes are _blue_, Robin----oh, I won't let myself _think_ of going to New York untilMom and Pop are settled somewhere away from the Mills----Robin, you'reso _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 ownbook 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 verystill that she seemed sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliageover her head, now and then showering her with pink petals from thelingering blossoms; from beneath her rose the damp sweet fragrance ofsoft earth and green grass, nearby a meadow-lark sang plaintively;somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate in the nest; from thevalley, stretching below the sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted. 

A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining woman and her eyesstared through the lacy canopy of green into the blue sky, where fleecyclouds sailed off to the west and south. 

A lingering echo went singing through her heart. "It is all yours, MoiraLynch! It is all yours!" The beauty around her--the promise of spring, the green of orchard and meadow and distant hill, the rest, thecontentment--the happiness, and oh, most precious, the fulfilment. 

There was never a day now, in Mother Moira's life, so busy that shecould not snatch a moment to go over, in reverent appreciation, theblessings that were hers. And no longer were her dreams--for nothingcould change the dreaming heart of the little woman--for herself oreven for her big Danny; they were for her fine lad, a man now, andBeryl, working so earnestly for her ambition, and little Robin, whowould always _be_ little Robin, and the imp of a Susy, ruddy cheeked andhappy-hearted. 

How long, long ago seemed those days when, a slip of a girl, she haddreamed on that other hillside of a future that would be hers; howdazzling had been the pictures she had fancied; how much she had daredto ask. In her youthful bravado she had laughed at Destiny and had madeso bold as to declare Destiny might even then be weaving a bit of goldinto the drab fabric of her life. 

(Faith, was not little Robin her bit of gold? Had not the wonderfulchange begun in their lives after little Robin came to the Manor?)

Five years had passed, since she and her big Danny had moved from thevillage to the little farm that was "just around the corner. " Duringthem she and big Danny had been alone a great deal of the time, excepting for little Susy; for Dale and Beryl, after settling themsnugly in the old-fashioned farmhouse, (painted as white as white with anew barn for the gentle-eyed cow, and a pen for the pigs, and a trimlittle run-way for the chickens) had gone away, Dale to an engineeringcollege, Beryl to live with Miss Allendyce and take her precious violinlessons, and lessons in languages and science. But Mother Moira wasnever lonesome, for mere miles could not separate a heart like hersfrom those she loved!

There had been significant changes in the village for her to watchdevelop. The old Mill cottages had been torn down and across the riverhad been built a cluster of white houses, each with its own yard "goingright around it, " and trees and a bit of garden. There was a new schoolhouse, 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 increasingdemands upon it; there were rooms for the girls' clubs and the boys'clubs, and a billiard room and a bowling alley, and an athletic fieldwith a basketball court and a baseball diamond. 

(Sir Galahad in his scarlet coat still hung over the mantel whichWilliams had built. Robin would not let anyone change that. )

Mrs. Riley lived in the upper floor of the House of Laughter and tookcare of it. 

The Manor car, with Madame Forsyth, passed often now through the streetsof the village and from it Madame nodded pleasantly to this person andthat, stopping sometimes to ask one Mill mother concerning her sickchild, another of her husband--and another whether she had finished theknit bed-spread upon which Madame had found her working one afternoonwhen she had called. Madame had herself regularly visited the new Millhouses during the process of construction and took delight in droppingin 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 shehad found too much pure delight in doing the little things Robin quiteartlessly suggested--little things which had not been easy at first andwhich had seemed to demand too great a sacrifice of her pride. 

The passing of time for the three at the Manor, Madame, Mrs. Budge andHarkness, was marked, Mother Lynch well knew, by Robin's coming andgoing. For, when her Jimmie had returned from southern seas, Robin hadinsisted upon going straight to him, and it was not until her aunt hadlaid aside the last shred of her old prejudice and invited Robin'sfather to the Manor for a long visit that Robin had consented to lookupon the Manor as her "home, " though, even then, she steadfastlyasserted "part" of her time must be spent with Jimmie. 

While at the Manor James Forsyth had painted his "Wood Sprite, " whichwon for him quick and wide recognition, and ever afterward Robin andMadame 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 thegrass, cool hands, with a touch as light as the blowing petals, closedover 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 hermother's. 

"It's a bit of a cat-nap I'm stealing, " fibbed Mother Moira, blushinglike a girl. Her eyes lingered adoringly on the glowing, flushed faceclose to hers. "Where have you been, Beryl?"

"Susy coaxed me off to her fairy spring. It's really a lovely littlenook she's found and she's made a doll's house in the hollow of an oldtree. She's a funny little thing--almost elfin, isn't she? Are you sureshe isn't too much trouble for you and Dad, Mother?"

"Trouble? Bless the little heart of the colleen, it's somethinghappening every minute for it's an imp of mischief she is, but, Beryl, Ilike 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 forthe sight of you and this little place. I think my soul, the one poordear Jacques Henri tried to find in me and didn't--wakened one nightwhen I actually cried myself to sleep just longing to feel your armsaround me! Oh, when one has a mother and a home like mine to want tocome to, it ought to be _easy_ to keep beautiful inside, the way thedear 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 ofher 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 thehand Beryl's cheek touched. 

"He was very nice to me. Mother, are he and--and Robin--awfully goodfriends?"

"What's in your heart, my girl?"

"Mom, couldn't Robin marry almost _anybody_? She's such a dear and she'sso 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 inyour eyes! Why, Robin's twenty. Well, I should think _anyone'd_ like TomGranger. "

"Oh, my dear!" And Mother Moira, reading the girl's heart with her wisemother-eyes, gave a tiny sigh. Must the shadow of a heartache touch thesplendid friendship between these two, Beryl and Robin?

The thought lingered with her while she watched the girls come hand inhand out to the orchard from the drive where Robin had left herroadster. Beryl had only been home for three days and Robin came out tothe farm at every opportunity. 

Her girls--her tall, handsome Beryl with the strong shoulders and thefree swing of her, and little Robin, with her deep blue eyes and hertender lips and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her walkthe appearance of eagerness. 

There was still so much to talk about that the two girls lingered underthe trees while Mother Moira swung gently and listened and watched thedear young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a weekend at a duke'shouse; Robin had spent a month in the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie;Dale had brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from anexpedition he had made with an engineering gang into the fastnesses ofSouth America, and Beryl had been asked to tour in the fall with theCincinnati Symphony and was going to accept. Their chatter came backthen to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the library and the newteachers, who were Smith College graduates, and Sophie Mack who hadstarted a Girl Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House ofLaughter. 

"Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and Dale coming!" criedMother Moira, springing to quick life. 

"And Dale has a wonderful secret to tell, too, " laughed Robin, her eyesshining. 

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'ttell. 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'tknow!" cried Beryl, with real indignation. "Is it something that's goingto make Mom lots happier?"

"I--hope--so!" And to hide the tell-tale rose on her face Robin threwher 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 thebroad porch where they could enjoy the sunset. Beryl watched her brotherwith admiring eyes--he had grown so strong and big and good-looking, hisnice-fitting clothes set off his broad shoulders so well, his voice hadsuch a ring of confidence. 

"I've been offered the management of the Forsyth Mills, " he announcedsuddenly. 

Then _that_ was the secret!

"Really, truly?" exclaimed Beryl. 

"And will ye take it, my boy?" asked big Danny, a note of pridedeepening his voice. 

"My boy a manager!" trilled Mother Moira. 

"Yes. I'll take it. I made one condition with Madame Forsyth--and shegranted it. " And Dale flashed a look across to Robin. Everyone followedhis glance and everyone read the truth in Robin's face. 

"Robin Forsyth--and you never breathed a _word_!" cried Beryl, notknowing for the moment whether to give way to great joy or indignationthat her friend had not confided in her. 

With a quick little motion, Robin had slipped to Mother Lynch's chairand, 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 Moirasmiled through the tears that brimmed in her eyes. 

Beryl, staring at her mother and brother and her friend, suddenly gavevoice to a thought that had come with such significance as to sweep awayher 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'tworth 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 theHouse of Laughter she stopped the car that they might enjoy for a momentthe twilight glow of the valley. Lights twinkled from the Mill housesacross 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 theworld say? They may laugh at you!"

Robin's chin lifted. Had she ever reckoned her gifts in dollars andcents?

"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 calledyou--my Prince. You said, then, you couldn't stay with me--that I'd haveto 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. Whenyou feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selectedlist of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominentwriters 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 forevery mood and every taste and every pocketbook. 

_Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write tothe publishers for a complete catalog. _

_There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste_

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

JANE ABBOTT'S STORIES FOR GIRLSMay be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. 

Mrs. Abbott holds a unique place among the writers of fiction for younggirls. Her charming stories possess those same qualities of optimism andhigh ideals for humanity that made the books of Louisa May Alcott sopopular. She never fails to create an atmosphere of happiness and thespirit 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 BAILEYMay 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 HILLMay 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 NOVELSMay 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' STORIESMay 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-PORTERMay 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 ADVENTUREMay 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. The unusual long dash construction "---- ---- ---- ----" just before the Epilogue was retained as in the original.