RED-ROBIN 
 
 JANE D.ABBQTT
 
 II 
 
 Wi^> 
 
 <r
 
 OF 
 
 RED-ROBIN
 
 RED-ROBIN 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE ABBOTT 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 KEINETH, HIGHACRES, 
 APRILLY, ETC. 
 
 7977 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
 McW in tix United State* of America
 
 COPWCHT, 1932, BY J. B. UPPINCOTT COMPANY
 
 TO BETSY 
 
 2125527
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CSAPTBK 
 
 PROLOGUE A STORY BEFORE THE STORY u 
 
 I. THE ORPHAN DOLLJ 19 
 
 IL A PRINCE a8 
 
 III. THE HOUSE OF FORSYTE 39 
 
 IV. RED-ROBIN ' 49 
 
 V. JIMMIE : 61 
 
 VI. THE FORSYTE 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 OP LAUGHTER 204 
 
 XVIII. TEE LUCKLESS STOCKING 220 
 
 XIX. GRANNY 235 
 
 XX. ROBIN'S BEGINNING 250 
 
 XXI. AT THE GRANGER MILLS . . , . . 266 
 
 XXII. THE GREEN BEADS 279 
 
 XXIII. ROBIN'S RESCUE 292 
 
 XXIV. MADAME FORSYTE COMES HOME 305 
 
 EPILOGUE A STORY AFTER THE STORY 318
 
 RED -ROBIN 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 A STORY BEFORE THE STORY 
 
 ON a green hillside a girl lay prone in the sweet 
 grass, very still that she might not, by the slightest 
 quiver, disturb the beauty that was about her. There 
 was so very, very much beauty the sky, azure blue 
 overhead and paling where it touched the green- 
 fringed earth; the whispering tree under which she 
 lay, the lush meadow grass, moving like waves of a 
 sea, the bird nesting above her, everything 
 
 And Moira O'Donnell, who had never been far- 
 ther than the boundaries of her county, knew the 
 whole world was beautiful, too. 
 
 Behind her, hid in a hollow, stood the small 
 cottage where, at that very moment, her grandmother 
 was preparing the evening meal. And, beyond, in 
 the village was the little old stone church and Father 
 Murphy's square bit of a house with its wide door- 
 step and its roof of thatch, and Widow Mulligan's 
 and the Denny's and the Finnegan's and all 
 the others. 
 
 Moira loved them all and loved the hospitable 
 homes where there was always, in spite of poverty, 
 
 a bounty of good feeling. 
 
 ii
 
 12 RED-ROBIN 
 
 And before her, just beyond that last steep rise, 
 was the sea. She could hear its roar now, like a deep 
 voice drowning the clearer pipe of the winging 
 birds and the shrill of the little grass creatures. 
 Often she went down to its edge, but at this hour 
 she liked best to lie in the grass and dream her dreams 
 to its lifting music. 
 
 Her dream always began with: "Oh, Moira 
 O'Donnell, it's all yours ! It's all yours !" Which, 
 of course, sounded like boasting, or a miser gloating 
 over his gold, and might have seemed very funny to 
 anyone so stupid as to see only the girl's shabby 
 dress and her bare feet, gleaming like white satin 
 against the green of the grass. But no fine lady in 
 that land felt richer than Moira when she began 
 her dreaming. 
 
 Of late, her dreams were taking on new shapes, 
 as though, with her growth, they reached out, too. 
 And today, as she lay very still in the grass, some- 
 thing big, that was within her and yet had no sub- 
 stance, lifted and sung up to the blue arch of the 
 sky and on to the sun and away westward with it, 
 away like a bird in far flight 
 
 Beyond that golden horizon of heaving sea was 
 everything one could possibly want ; Moira had heard 
 that when she was a tiny girl. America, the States, 
 they were words that opened fairy doors. 
 
 Father Murphy had told her much about that 
 world beyond the sea. He had visited it once; had
 
 A STORY BEFORE THE STORY 13 
 
 spent six weeks with his sister who had married and 
 settled on a farm in the state of Ohio. His sister's 
 husband had all sorts of new-fangled machinery for 
 plowing and seeding, and for his reaping! And 
 Father Murphy had told her of the free library that 
 was in the town near his sister's home, where he 
 could sit all day and read to his heart's content. 
 
 Father Murphy (he had spent three whole days 
 in New York) had made her see the great buildings 
 that were like granite giants towering over and wall- 
 ing in the pigmy humanity that beat against their 
 sides like the rise and fall of the tide ; he told her of 
 the rush and roar of the streets and of the trains that 
 tore over one's head 
 
 And he told her of the loveliness that was there 
 in picture and music. Moira, listening, quivering 
 with the longing to be fine and to do fine things, 
 could always see it all just as though magic hands 
 swept aside those miles of ocean dividing that land 
 of marvel from her Ireland. 
 
 That was why it was so simple to let her dream- 
 mind climb up and away westward. Her eyes, star- 
 ing into the paling blue, saw beautiful things and 
 her thoughts revelled in delicious fancies. 
 
 That slender, gold crowned bit of a cloud that 
 was Destiny circling her globe, weaving, and mould- 
 ing, and shaping; Moira O'Donnell's own humble 
 thread was on her loom! And Destiny's face was 
 turned westward. Moira saw shining towers and
 
 I 4 RED-ROBIN 
 
 thronged streets and fields greener than her own. 
 Far-off music sounded in her ears as though the 
 world off there just sang with gladness. And it was 
 waiting for her her. She saw herself moving for- 
 ward to it all with quick step and head high, going to 
 a beautiful goal. Sometimes that goal was a palace- 
 place, encircled by brilliant flowers, sometimes a farm 
 like Father Murphy's sister's and a husband who 
 worked with marvelous contrivances, sometimes a 
 free library with all the books one could want, some- 
 times a dim, vaulted space through which echoed 
 exquisite music 
 
 She so loved that make-believe Moira, moving 
 forward toward glowing things, that she cried aloud : 
 "That's me! Me!" And of course her voice broke 
 the spell the dream vanished; there was nothing 
 left but the fleecy cloud, the meadow lark's song, 
 close by. 
 
 There was just time enough before her grand- 
 mother needed her, to run down to Father Murphy's. 
 She knew at this hour she would find him by his wide 
 door-step. Fleetly, her bare feet scarcely touching 
 the soft earth, she covered the distance to his house. 
 She ran up behind him and slipped her fingers over 
 his half -closed eyes. 
 
 He knew the familiar touch of the girl's hands. 
 He patted them with his own and moved aside offi 
 his bench that she might sit down with him. 
 
 "Father," she said, very low, her eyes shining. 
 "It's my dream again."
 
 A STORY BEFORE THE STORY 15 
 
 The old priest did not chide her for idling, as her 
 grandmother would have done. The old priest 
 dreamed, too. 
 
 "Tell me," she went on. "Can one go to school 
 over there as long as one likes ? Is it too grown-up 
 I am to learn more things from books?" 
 
 The old Father told her one could never be too 
 old to learn from books. He loved her craving for 
 knowledge. Had he not taught her himself, since 
 she was twelve ? He looked at her proudly. 
 
 "Father!" She whispered now, and the rose 
 flush deepened in her face. "It's Danny Lynch that 
 comes every evening to see me." 
 
 Now Father Murphy turned squarely and re- 
 garded her with startled eyes. This slip of a girl 
 was the most precious colleen in his flock. 
 
 "And, Father, it's of America he talks all 
 the time!" 
 
 The old priest shivered as though from a chill. 
 Sensing his feeling, Moira caught his hand quickly 
 and held it in a close grip. 
 
 "But if I go away it's not forgetting you I'll be! 
 Oh, who in all this world has been a better friend 
 to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moira 
 but you?" 
 
 "Child" 
 
 "Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang 
 to her feet and stood slimly erect. "See?" 
 
 He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest 
 had not noticed. Moira " he caught her arm,
 
 16 RED-ROBIN 
 
 leaned forward and peered into her face as though tfc 
 see through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it 
 courage I have taught ye? And honor? And faith?" 
 Her heart was singing now over the secret she 
 had shared with him. Who would not have courage 
 and faith when one was so happy? With a lift 
 of her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged 
 away his seriousness. 
 
 "If you could only see me, Father, as I a/n in 
 my dream. Oh, it's beautiful I am! And smart? 
 And rich!" 
 
 "Not money," broke in the priest with a ring 
 of contempt. 
 
 "Sure, no, not money! But fine things. Oh, 
 Father," she clasped her hands childishly. "It's fine 
 things I want. The very finest in the world ! And 
 I want my Danny to want them, too." 
 
 "Fine things," he repeated slowly. "And will 
 ye know the fine things from the dross, child ? That 
 wealth is more times what ye give, aye, than what ye 
 get? It's rich ye are of your fine things if the heart 
 of you is unselfish " 
 
 "What talk, you, Father; it's like the croaking 
 frogs in the Widow Finnegan's pond you are ! But, 
 sh-h-h, I will tell you what I saw, as real as real, as 
 I lay dreaming Destiny herself, as fine as you 
 please, sailing to the new world, a-spinning on her 
 loom. She had Moira O'Donnell's poor thread and 
 who knows, Father Murphy, but maybe this minute
 
 A STORY BEFORE THE STORY 17 
 
 it's a-spinning it with a thread of gold she is!" 
 The girl's eyes danced. "Ah, 'tis nonsense I talk, 
 for it's a dream it was, but my poor heart's so light 
 it hurts. here." 
 
 The old man laid a trembling hand upon her head. 
 Under his touch it bowed with quick reverence but 
 not before she had seen a mistiness in the kindly eyes. 
 
 "It's God's blessing I ask for ye and yes, may 
 your dream come true " 
 
 "Your blessing for Danny, too," whispered 
 Moira. 
 
 "For the both of ye!" 
 
 "Sure it's a crossing Granny'll be a-giving me 
 and no blessing," laughed the girl. It was her own 
 word for Granny's sharp tongue. "I'd best be off, 
 Father dear." 
 
 "Wait." The old man disappeared through his 
 door. Presently he came out carrying a small box. 
 From this he took a crumpled package. Unwrapping 
 the tissue folds he revealed, in the cup of his hand, 
 a string of green beads. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! How beautiful!" cried the girl. "Are 
 they for me?" with the youthful certainty that all 
 lovely things were her due. 
 
 "Yes. To remember my blessing." He re- 
 garded them fondly, lifted them that she might see 
 their beauty against the sun's glow. ( 'Twas in a 
 little shop in London I found the pretty things." 
 Moira knew how much he must love them as a 
 
 3
 
 1 8 RED-ROBIN 
 
 keepsake that visit to London was only next in 
 his heart to the trip to America. She caught his 
 hands, beads, tissue wrappings and all. 
 
 "Oh, it's precious they are ! And you too !" 
 
 The Father fastened them over the girl's shabby 
 dress. "They are only beads," he admonished. 
 "But it's of this day they'll remind you." 
 
 He watched Moira as she ran off down the lane. 
 He noted the quick, sure tread of her feet, the chal- 
 lenging poise of her head. "Colleen " he whis- 
 pered with a smile. "Little colleen." He turned to 
 his door and his lips, even though they still twisted 
 in a smile, moved as though in prayer. 
 
 "And may God keep pure the dream in the heart 
 ofycl"
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE ORPHAN DOLL 
 
 NOVEMBER and a chill wind scurrying, snap- 
 ping, biting, driving before it fantastic scraps of 
 paper, crackly leaves, a hail of fine cinders. An early 
 twilight, gray like a mist, enveloped the city in gloom. 
 Through it lights gleamed bravely from the grimy 
 windows rising higher and higher to the low-hanging 
 clouds, each thin shaft beckoning and telling of shel- 
 ter and a warmth that was home. 
 
 High over the heads of the hurrying humanity 
 in a street of tenements Moira Lynch lighted her 
 lamp and set it close to the bare window. With 
 her it was a ceremony. She sang as she performed 
 the little act. Without were the shadows of the 
 approaching night gloom, storm, disaster, perhaps 
 even the evil fairies ; her lamp would scatter them all 
 with its glow, just as her song drove the worries from 
 her heart. 
 
 Her lamp lighted, she paused for a moment, her 
 head forward, listening. Then at the sound of a 
 light step she sprang to the door and threw it open. 
 A wee slip of a girl, almost one with the shadows 
 of the dingy hallway, ran into her arms. 
 
 "And it's so late you are, dearie ! And so dark 
 it's grown and cold. Your poor little hands are
 
 20 RED-ROBIN 
 
 blue. Why, what have you here, hidin* under your 
 shawl? Beryl Lynch! Dear love us a doll!" 
 With a laugh that was like a tinkling of low pitched 
 bells the little mother drew the treasure from its 
 hiding place. But as her eyes swept the silken 
 splendor of the raiment her merriment changed to 
 wonder and then to fear. 
 
 "You didn't you didn't oh, Beryl Lynch, 
 you" 
 
 "Steal it? No. Give me it. I found it." 
 
 But the terror still darkened the mother's eyes. 
 
 "And where did you find it?" 
 
 "On the bench. She left it. She forgot it. 
 Ain't it mine now?" pleadingly. "I waited, honest, 
 but she didn't come back." 
 
 Mrs. Lynch was examining the small wonder 
 with timid fingers, lifting fold after fold of shining 
 satin and dainty muslin. 
 
 "Who was she?" she asked. 
 
 "A kid." Little Beryl kindled to the interest of 
 her story. Had not something very thrilling hap- 
 pened in her simple life a life the greatest interest 
 of which was to carry to the store each day the small 
 bundle of crocheted lace which her mother made. 
 "She was a swell kid. She played in the park, waitin' 
 for a big man." 
 
 "Did she talk to you?" breathlessly. 
 
 Beryl avoided this question. The beautiful little 
 girl had not spoken to her, though she had hung by
 
 THE ORPHAN DOLL 21 
 
 very close, inviting an approach with hungry eyes. 
 
 "She was just a little kid," loftily. Then, "Ain't 
 the doll mine?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch patted down the outermost garment. 
 "Yes, it's yours it is, darlin'. At least " she hesi- 
 tated over a fleeting sense of justice, "maybe the little 
 stranger will be a-coming back for her doll. It's a 
 fair bit of dolly and it's lonesome and weeping the 
 little mother may be this very minute- " 
 
 Beryl reached out eager arms. 
 
 "It's an orphan doll. I'll love it hard. Give me 
 it. Oh," with a breath that was like a whistle. 
 "Ain't she lovely? Mom, is she too lovely for us?" 
 
 The timid question brought a quick change in 
 the mother's face, a kindling of a fire within the 
 mother breast. She straightened her slender body. 
 
 "And if there's anything too good for my girlie 
 I'd like to see it ! Isn't this the land where all men 
 are equal and my girl and boy shall have a school 
 as good as the best and grow up to be maybe the 
 President himself?" She repeated the words softly 
 as though they made a creed, learned carefully and 
 with supreme faith. Why had she come, indeed, to 
 this crowded, noisy city from her fair home meadows 
 if not for this promise it held out to her? 
 
 "And isn't your brother the head of his class?" 
 she finished triumphantly. "And it's smarter than 
 ever you'll be yourself with your little books. Oh,
 
 22 RED-ROBIN 
 
 childy !" She caught the little girl, doll and all, into 
 an impulsive embrace. 
 
 From it Beryl wriggled to a practical curiosity 
 as to supper. She sniffed. Her mother nodded. 
 
 "Stew! And with dumplin's " She made it 
 sound like fairy food. "Ready to the beating when 
 your father comes." 
 
 "Where's Dale? And Pop?" 
 
 "It's Dale's night at the store. And Pop'll be 
 comin' along any minute. I've set the lamp for him." 
 
 "I'm hungry," Beryl complained. She sat down 
 cross-legged on the spotless scrap of carpeting and 
 proceeded with infinite tenderness to disrobe the doll. 
 
 "Do you think she will like it here?" she asked 
 suddenly, looking about the humble room which for 
 the Lynch's, served as parlor, dining-room and 
 kitchen. Now its bareness lay wrapped in a kindly 
 shadow through which glinted diamond sparks from 
 much-scrubbed tin. "It's nice " Beryl meditated. 
 She loved this hour, she loved the singing tea-kettle 
 and the smell of strong soap and her mother's face 
 in the lamplight, with all the loud noises of the street 
 hushed, and the ugliness outside hidden by the closed 
 door, against the paintless boards of which had been 
 nailed a flaming poster inviting the nation's youth 
 to join the Navy. 
 
 "But maybe this home'll be too different," 
 she finished.
 
 THE ORPHAN DOLL 23 
 
 The mother's eyes grew moist with a quick ten- 
 derness. Her Beryl, with this wonder of a dolly 
 in her arms ! Her mind flashed over the last Christ- 
 mas and the one before that when Beryl had asked 
 Santa Claus for a "real doll" and had cried on 
 Christmas morning because the cheap little bit of 
 dolldom which the mother had bought out of her 
 meagre savings would not open or shut its eyes. And 
 now the impudent heart of the blessed child worry- 
 ing that the home wasn't good enough for the likes 
 of the doll! 
 
 "It's a good home for her where it's loving you 
 are to her. It's the heart and not the gold that 
 counts. And who knows maybe it's a bit of luck 
 the dolly'll be a-bringing." 
 
 As though a word of familiar portent had been 
 uttered Beryl lifted a face upon which was reflected 
 the glow of the little mother's. Babe as she was, 
 she knew something of the mother's faith in the fickle 
 god of chance, a faith that helped the little woman 
 over the rough places, that never failed to brighten 
 her deepest gloom. Did she not staunchly believe 
 that someday by a turn of good fortune she and her 
 Danny would know the America and the good things 
 of which they had dreamed, sitting in the gloaming 
 of their Ireland, their lover's hands close clasped? 
 But for that hope why would they have left their 
 dear hillsides with the homely life and the kindly 
 neighbors and good Father Murphy who had taught
 
 24 RED-ROBIN 
 
 her from his own dog-eared books because she was 
 eager and quick to learn? Through the fourteen 
 years since they had come to America those girl-and- 
 boy dreams had gone sadly astray, but the little wife 
 still clung to the faith that they'd have the good things 
 sometime, her Danny would get a better job and if 
 he didn't there was young Dale, always at the head of 
 his class in school and even the baby Beryl, as quick 
 as anything to pick out words from her little books. 
 
 "A good luck dolly!" Beryl held the doll close. 
 Her eyes grew round and excited. "Then I can ride 
 all day on a 'bus and go to the Zoo, can't I? And 
 can I have a new coat with fur ? And go to Coney ? 
 And shoot the shoots ? And can Dale ride a horse ? 
 And can Dale and me go across the river where it's 
 like that?" nodding to the poster. 
 
 Mrs. Lynch rocked furiously in her joy at Beryl's 
 anticipations. The floor creaked and the kettle sang 
 louder than before. 
 
 "That you can. And it'll be a fine strong, brave 
 girl you'll be, going to school and learning more than 
 even poor old Father Murphy knew, God love him. 
 And by and by " 
 
 But a heavy toiling of steps up the stairs checked 
 her words. That slow tread was not her big Danny 
 nor the young Dale ! At a knock she flew to the door. 
 
 "Oh, and if it isn't Mister Torrence." She 
 caught the old man who stood on the threshold and 
 laughingly pulled him into the room. "It was afraid
 
 THE ORPHAN DOLL 25 
 
 I was that it was bad news! Danny Lynch isn't 
 home yet but you shall stay and eat dumplin's with 
 us the best outside of our Ireland " 
 
 "No! No!" protested the old man, regretfully. 
 "My old woman's waitin' ! Bad news ! It's good 
 news I bring. Dan's had a raise. He's foreman 
 of the gang now. And I stepped 'round to tell ye 
 the good news and that Dan'll be a-workin' tonight 
 with an extry shift and'll not be comin' home to 
 dinner, worse luck for him!" sniffing appreciatively 
 at the pleasant odor from the stove. 
 
 "A raise? My Dan a foreman?" Moira 
 Lynch caught her hands together. "It's the good 
 luck! And it's deservin' of it he is for no man on 
 the docks works harder than my big Dan." Her 
 eyes shone like two stars. 
 
 "Well, ye'll want to be a-eatin' the dumplin's so 
 I'll go along. Good-night, Mrs. Lynch." 
 
 "God love you, Mister Torrence," whispered 
 Moira, too overcome to manage her voice. 
 
 Closing the door behind her unexpected visitor 
 she turned and caught the wondering Beryl into 
 her arms. 
 
 "And I was a-thinking it would never come! 
 It's ashamed I should be to have doubted. My 
 big Dan!" 
 
 "Is it the dolly that's brought us the good-luck, 
 Mom?" interrupted Beryl, round-eyed. 
 
 "A foreman !" cried the mother in the very tone
 
 26 RED-ROBIN 
 
 she would have used if she had said "a king." 
 She danced about until the floor creaked threaten- 
 ingly. "Our good fortune is coming, my precious. 
 And it's fine and beautiful my girl shall be with a 
 dress as good as the next one. Wait! Wait!" 
 She flew into the tiny bedroom, returning in a mo- 
 ment with a small box in her hands. From it she 
 lifted a string of round green beads and held them 
 laughingly before Beryl's staring eyes. 
 
 "My beads! You shall wear them this night. 
 It's the good old Father's blessing." She clasped 
 them about Beryl's neck, fingering them tenderly. 
 
 "Pretty beads. Pretty beads," cried the little 
 girl. 
 
 Suddenly quieted by a rush of memories Mrs. 
 Lynch sat down and took Beryl upon her lap. "Beryl 
 darlin', was the likes of that other little girl the 
 one who forgot the dolly fine and beautiful?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" The child's voice carried a note 
 of wonder. 
 
 "And you shall be fine and beautiful, too, Moira 
 Lynch's own girl, just as I used to dream for my 
 own self, the selfish likes o' me. You shall go to 
 school and learn from good books. Didn't the old 
 Father tell me of the fine schools he had seen when he 
 visited his sister in America? And anybody can, 
 go anybody !" 
 
 Little Beryl felt that it was a solemn moment. 
 She lifted serious eyes. "I promise," she drawled,
 
 THE ORPHAN DOLL 27 
 
 with a gravity out of all proportion to her six years, 
 "I promise to go to school and learn lots like Dale 
 and be fine and boo'ful so's my 'dopted dolly will 
 like me as well as that other kid. I've gotta be 
 good 'nough for her. So there." 
 
 The child could not comprehend the obstacles 
 which might threaten such a standard; she stared 
 bravely into the unblinking eyes of the doll who 
 smiled back her graven smile. 
 
 Then : "I'm hungry," she declared, suddenly de- 
 ciding that dumplings were more important than 
 anything else. "And can my Dolly sit in Pop's seat?" 
 
 "That she can," cried the mother, going to her 
 "mixin'." "And what a gay supper it will be 
 with the new dolly and the pretty beads and the 
 dumplin's. Oh, Himself a foreman!"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A PRINCE 
 
 PROMPTLY at nine o'clock, young Dale Lynch 
 turned the key in the door of "Tony Sebastino, 
 Groceries" and started, whistling, homeward. Three 
 times a week, from the close of school until nine 
 o'clock, he worked in the store, snatching a dinner 
 of bananas, or bread and cheese, between customers. 
 Because "Mom" had whispered that there were to be 
 "dumplin's" this night and that she would keep some 
 warm for him, and because the wind whipped chill- 
 ingly through his thin clothing, he broke into a run. 
 
 His homeward way led him past a bit of open 
 triangle which in the neighborhood was dignified by. 
 the name of park, a dreary place now, dirty straw 
 stacked about the fountain, dry leaves and papers 
 cluttering the brown earth and whipping against the 
 iron palings of the fence. Dale, still whistling, 
 turned its corner and ran, full-tilt, upon a bit of 
 humanity clinging, like the paper and leaves, to 
 the fence. 
 
 "Giminy Gee!" Dale jumped back in alarm. 
 
 Then: "Did I scare you, kid ? Oh, say, what's the 
 
 matter?" For the face that turned to his was red 
 
 and swollen with weeping. "Y'lost?" This was 
 
 28
 
 A PRINCE 29 
 
 Dale's natural conclusion, for the hour was late, and 
 the child a very small one. 
 
 "I lost my Cynthia." 
 
 "Your what?" 
 
 "My my Cynthia. She's my b-bestest doll. 
 I forgot her." The voice trailed off in a wail . 
 
 Dale, touched by her woe, looked about him. 
 Certainly no Cynthia was visible. By rapid ques- 
 tioning on his part he drew from her the story of 
 her desertion. She had played a nice game of run- 
 ning 'round and 'round and counting the "things," 
 waiting for Mr. Tony; Cynthia did not like to run 
 because it shook her eyes, so she had put her down 
 on the edge of the straw where the wind would not 
 blow on her. And then Mr. Tony had come and 
 had told her to "hustle along" and she "had runned 
 aw r ay and for-g-got Cynthia!" 
 
 "Well, I guess she's somebody else's Cynthia now, 
 kid. Things don't stay long in the parks 'round 
 here." 
 
 Dale seemed so very old and very wise that the 
 tiny girl listened to his verdict with blanching face. 
 He knew, of course. 
 
 "Where d'you live?" demanded Dale. "Why, 
 you're just a baby ! Anybody with you?" 
 
 The child pointed rather uncertainly to one of the 
 intersecting streets. 
 
 "I come that way," she said, then, even while 
 saying it, began to wonder if that were the way she
 
 30 RED-ROBIN 
 
 had come. The streets all looked so much alike. 
 She had run along the curb, so as to be as far away as 
 possible from the dark alley ways and the doors. 
 And it had been a long way 
 
 Her lip quivered though she would not cry. 
 After Cynthia's fate, just to be lost herself did 
 not matter. 
 
 "Well, don't you know where you live? What's 
 the street? I'll take you home." 
 
 "22 Patchin Place," lisped the child. 
 
 Dale hesitated a moment to make sure of his 
 bearings. "Well, then, come along. I know where 
 that is. And you forget 'bout your Cynthia. You've 
 got another doll, haven't you? If you haven't, you 
 just ask Santa Claus for one. Why, say, kiddo, 
 what's this? You lame?" For the little girl skipped 
 jerkily at his side. 
 
 "That's just the way I'm made," the child an- 
 swered, quite indifferent to the shocked note in the 
 boy's voice. "I can walk and run, but I go crooked." 
 
 "What's your name ?" 
 
 "Robin Forsyth." She made it sound like 
 "Wobbin Force." 
 
 "Oh, Wobbin Force. Funny name, isn't it? 
 And what's your Ma and Pa going to say to you for 
 running off?" 
 
 Putting a srnall hand trustingly into the boy's 
 big one, the child skipped along at his side. "Oh,
 
 A PRINCE 31 
 
 nothing," she answered, lost in an admiring contem- 
 plation of her rescuer. "What's they, anyway?" 
 
 "A Ma ? Don't you know what your mother is ?" 
 
 Little Robin met his astonishment with a ripple 
 of laughter. "Oh a mother! I had a lovely, lovely 
 mother once but she's gone away to Heaven. And 
 is a Pa a Jimmie?" 
 
 "A what ?" Dale had never met such a strange 
 child. 
 
 ' 'Cause Jimmie's my Parent. I call him Pa- 
 rent sometimes and sometimes I call him Jimmie." 
 
 If his companion had not been so very small Dale 
 might have suspected an attempt at "kidding." He 
 glanced sidewise and suspiciously at her but all he 
 saw was a cherub face framed in a tilted sky-blue 
 tam-o'shanter and straggling ends of flaming 
 red hair. 
 
 "Jimmie won't scold me. He'd want me to try 
 to find Cynthia." Robin smothered a sigh. "He 
 wasn't home anyway." 
 
 "D'you live all alone? You and your Jimmie?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, only Aunt Milly's downstairs and 
 Grandpa Jones is 'cross the hall, so I'm never 'fraid. 
 They're not my really truly aunt's and grandfather's 
 I just call them that. And Jimmie leaves the light 
 burning anyway. What's your name? And are 
 you very old? Are you a man like Jimmie?" 
 
 Dale, warming under the adoration he saw on 
 the small face, felt very big and very manly. He
 
 32 RED-ROBIN 
 
 returned the little squeeze that tugged on his hand. 
 
 "Oh, I'm a big fellow," he answered. 
 
 "You look awful nice," the little girl pursued. 
 "Just like one of my make-believe Princes. I wish 
 you lived with Jimmie and me. I wouldn't mind 
 Cynthia then." 
 
 "But the Princes never lived with the little girls 
 in the stories, you know," argued Dale, finding it 
 a very pleasant and unusual sensation to act the role 
 of a Prince even to a very small girl. "You have 
 to find me, you see." 
 
 Miss Robin jumped with joy. "Oh, goody, 
 goody! I'll always make b'lieve you are a Prince 
 and I'll find you and you must find me, too. You 
 will, won't you?" 
 
 "You just bet I will," promised Dale, easily. 
 "Here's your street." He stopped to study the house 
 numbers. Suddenly a door flew open wide and a 
 bareheaded man plunged into the street, almost tum- 
 bling upon them. 
 
 "Robin! Good gracious! I thought you were 
 stolen lost " 
 
 Robin, very calm, clasped him about his knee. 
 
 "I was lost, Jimmie. But this very big boy 
 brought me home. He's a Prince I mean he's my 
 make-believe Prince." 
 
 "But, Robin " The man turned from the child 
 to Dale.
 
 A PRINCE 33 
 
 "I found her way down by Sheridan Square. 
 She was hunting for her doll she'd left there." 
 
 "While I was walking with Mr. Tony this after- 
 noon I played in the park and I forgot Cynthia." 
 
 "Good Heavens and you went way off there all 
 by yourself to find the thing?" 
 
 In her pride of Dale, Robin overlooked the slur 
 on Cynthia. 
 
 "I went alone," she repeated, "but I came home 
 with my Prince." 
 
 Gradually Robin's father was recovering from 
 his shock. The muscles of his face relaxed; he ran 
 his fingers through his thick hair, red like the child's, 
 ,with a gesture of throwing off some horrible night- 
 mare. To Dale he looked very boyish with a little 
 of Robin's own cherubic expression. 
 
 "Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And 
 you must promise not to do it again. Why, I can't 
 ever leave you alone unless you do." 
 
 He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to 
 leave the little Robin under the doubtful protection 
 her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end grateful to you, 
 my boy. If there's anything I can do for you " 
 He slipped one hand mechanically into his pocket. 
 
 "/ don't want anything." Dale spoke curtly and 
 stepped back. "It wasn't any bother; it's a nice 
 night to walk." 
 
 With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that 
 her gallant Prince was about to slip out of her sight
 
 34 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Her Jimmie had pulled his hand from his pocket ani 
 was extending it to the boy. He was not even in- 
 viting him to come in and smoke like he always 
 invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and all the others. But 
 of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway. 
 
 She waited until her father had finished his 
 thanks, then, stepping up to Dale, she reached out two 
 small arms and by holding on to Dale's, drew herself 
 up almost to the boy's chin. Upon it she pressed 
 a shy, warm kiss. 
 
 "Goodbye, Prince. You will hunt for me, won't 
 you? Promise! Cross your heart!" 
 
 Dale, flaming red, confused, promised that he 
 would, then wheeled and stalked off down the street. 
 After he had rounded the corner he lifted his arm and 
 wiped his chin with the sleeve of his coat. Then 
 he stuck his hands deep in his pockets and whistled 
 loudly. But after a moment, at a recollection of sky- 
 blue eyes underneath a sky-blue tam-o'shanter, he 
 chuckled softly. "A Prince! Gee, some Prince!" 
 But his head instinctively went higher at the honor 
 thrust upon him. 
 
 When he returned from the store, Dale usually 
 found his mother sitting by the lamp crocheting. 
 But tonight everything was different ; scarcely had he 
 stopped at their landing before the little mother, 
 quite transformed, rushed to greet him and tell him 
 the wonderful bit of good fortune. 
 
 Before it his own adventure was forgotten.
 
 A PRINCE 35 
 
 "And it's only a beginning it is it's the super- 
 intendent he'll be in no time at all, at all," finished 
 Mrs. Lynch. 
 
 "And we can move? And I can join the Boy 
 Scouts ? And go to camp next summer ? And have 
 a pair of roller skates?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch nodded her head to each question. 
 Behind each note of her voice rippled a laugh. "Yes, 
 yes, yes. Sure, it's a wonderful night this is." 
 
 "Where's Pop now?" 
 
 "Working with the extra shift," the wife an- 
 swered, proudly. 
 
 "Any dumplings?" eagerly. 
 
 "And I was forgetting ! Bless the heart of you, 
 of course I saved the biggest. 'Twas like a party 
 tonight for I dressed your sister in the beads. It's 
 worn out she is, God love her, with the excitement 
 and trying to keep her wee eyes open 'til her Pop 
 come home. Hushee or you'll waken the lamb now." 
 
 Dale was deep in thought choosing the words 
 with which he would tell the good news to the 
 "fellows" on the morrow, his mother was busying 
 herself with the "biggest" dumpling, when a per- 
 emptory knock came at the door. With a quick cry 
 Mrs. Lynch dropped her spoon why should any- 
 thing intrude upon their joy this night? 
 
 A man stood on the threshold presenting a curi- 
 ous figure for he wore a heavy coat over a white 
 duck suit. Where had she seen such a suit before?
 
 36 RED-ROBIN 
 
 With a catch at her heart she remembered at the 
 hospital, that time Dale had been run over. "Oh!" 
 she cried. "My Dan!" 
 
 "Mrs. Lynch?" The hospital attendant spoke 
 quickly as one would who had a disagreeable task 
 and must dispose of it without any delay. "Your 
 husband's had an accident he's alive, but you'd 
 better come." 
 
 Mrs. Lynch stood very still in the centre of the 
 room her hand clutching her throat as though to 
 stifle the scream that tore it. 
 
 "My Dan hurt !" She trembled but stood very 
 straight. "Quick, Dale, we must go to him. My 
 Dan. No, no, you stay with Beryl. Oh, hurry!" 
 she implored the interne, rushing bareheaded past 
 him down the stairway. "Hurry." 
 
 For a few moments Dale stared at the half -open 
 door. In his thirteen years he had experienced the 
 pinch of poverty, even hunger, the pain of injury, but 
 never this overwhelming fear of something, he did 
 not know what. Pop, his big, strong Pop hurt! 
 Pop, who could swing him even now, that he meas- 
 ured five feet three himself, to his shoulder! Oh, 
 no, no, it could not be true! Someone had made 
 a mistake. Someone had cruelly frightened his 
 mother. Hadn't their luck just come? Hadn't Pop 
 been made a boss ? 
 
 "Mom-ma!" came Beryl's voice, sleepily, from 
 the other room. "Mom-ma, what's they?"
 
 A PRINCE 37 
 
 Glad of anything to do Dale rushed to quiet 
 his little sister. He bade her, brokenly, to "never 
 mind and go to sleep," and he pulled the old blanket 
 up tight to her chin, his eyes so blinded with tears 
 that he did not see the waxen head pillowed close 
 to Beryl's. 
 
 Then he sat in his mother's chair and dropped 
 his head upon the table and waited, his hands clenched 
 at his side. 
 
 "I won't cry! I won't be a baby! Mom'll may- 
 be need me. I'm big now!" he muttered, finding 
 a little comfort in the sound of his own voice. 
 
 Poor Robin's Prince; alas, he felt very young 
 and helpless before the trouble which he faced. 
 
 Big Dan Lynch, he who had been the fairest and 
 sturdiest of the county of Moira's girlhood, would 
 never work again as superintendent or even fore- 
 man ; the rest of his days must be spent in the wheeled 
 chair sent up by the sympathetic Miss Lewis of the 
 Neighborhood Settlement House. It was fixed with 
 a contrivance so that he could move it about the 
 small room. 
 
 Little Beryl started school which made up for 
 a great deal that had suddenly been taken from her 
 life, for mother never sat by the lamp, now, or 
 crocheted. She worked at the Settlement House
 
 38 RED-ROBIN 
 
 all day and all evening busied herself with her 
 home tasks. 
 
 The "lucky dolly" Beryl hid away in paper wrap- 
 pings. Somehow, young as she was, she knew her 
 mother could not bear the sight of it. 
 
 And Dale worked every day at Tony's, going to 
 night school on the evenings when he had used to 
 go to the store. A tightening about the lips, an 
 older seriousness in the lad's eyes alone told what it 
 had cost him to give up his ambition to graduate 
 with his class, perhaps at its head. 
 
 Little Robin with the sky-blue eyes was quite 
 forgotten !
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH 
 
 IT was a time-honored custom at Gray Manor 
 that Harkness should serve tea at half -past four in 
 the Chinese room. 
 
 On this day another November day, ten years 
 after the events of the last chapter Harkness slipped 
 through the heavy curtains with his tray and inter- 
 rupted Madame Forsyth, mistress of Gray Manor, 
 in deep confab with her legal advisor, Cornelius 
 Allendyce. 
 
 Mr. Allendyce was just saying, crisply, "Will 
 your mind not rest easier for knowing that the 
 Forsyth fortune will go to a Forsyth?" when 
 Harkness rattled the cups. 
 
 Then, strangest of all things, Madame ordered 
 him sharply away with his tray. 
 
 Such a thing had never happened before in Hark- 
 ness' experience and he had been at Gray Manor 
 for fifty-five years. He grumbled complainingly to 
 Mrs. Budge, the housekeeper, and to Florrie, 
 Madame's own maid, who was having a sip of tea 
 with Mrs. Budge in the cosy warmth of the kitchen. 
 
 Florrie asserted that she could tell them a story 
 or two of Madame's whims and cranks only it would 
 not become her, inasmuch as Madame was old and 
 
 39
 
 40 RED-ROBIN 
 
 a woman to be pitied. "Poor thing, with this curse 
 on the house, who wouldn't have jumps and fidgets? 
 I don't see I'm sure how any of us stand it." But 
 Florrie spoke with a hint of satisfaction as though 
 proud to serve where there was a "curse." Hark- 
 ness and Mrs. Budge, who had lived at Gray Manor 
 when things were happier, sighed. 
 
 "It's an heir they be talking about now," 
 Harkness admitted. 
 
 "You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Budge and 
 Florrie in one breath. 
 
 Up in the Chinese room Madame Forsyth was 
 saying; "Do you think any child of that branch 
 of the family could take the place of " 
 
 "Oh, dear Madame," interrupted the lawyer. "I 
 am not suggesting such a thing! I know how im- 
 possible that would be. But on my own responsi- 
 bility I have made investigations and I have ascer- 
 tained that your husband's nephew has the one child. 
 The nephew's an artist of sorts and doubtless has his 
 ups and downs most artists do. Now I suggest " 
 
 "That I take this child " 
 
 Mr. Allendyce tactfully ignored the scorn in her 
 voice. "Exactly," he purred. "Exactly. Gordon 
 is the child's name. A very nice name, I am sure." 
 
 "The child of an obscure artist " 
 
 "Ah, but, Madame, blood is blood. A Forsyth " 
 
 "P'ff !" Madame made a sound like rock hitting 
 rock. Indeed, as she sat there, her narrow eyes
 
 THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH 41 
 
 gleaming from her immobile face, her thin lips 
 tightly compressed, she looked much more like rock 
 than flesh-and-blood. 
 
 Her explosion had the effect of exasperating 
 the little lawyer out of his habitual attitude of 
 conciliation. 
 
 "Madame, I can do no more than advise you in 
 this matter. I have traced down this child as a 
 possible heir to the Forsyth fortune. However, you 
 have it in your power to will otherwise. But let me 
 say this not as a lawyer but as your friend. You 
 are growing old. Will you not find, perhaps, more 
 happiness in your old age, if you bring a little youth 
 into this melancholy old house " 
 
 "I must ask you to withhold your kind wishes 
 until some other time," interrupted Madame, dryly. 
 "I am at present seeking your advice as a lawyer. 
 I have not been regardless of the fact that the House 
 of Forsyth must have an heir ; I have been thinking 
 of it for a long time in fact, that is all there is 
 left for me to do. And, though it is exceedingly 
 distasteful to me, I see the justice in seeking out one 
 of that family. But, it must be done in my way. 
 My mind is quite made up to that. You say there 
 is a child. I wish you to communicate with this 
 child's father this relative of my husband, and in- 
 form him that I will make this child my heir provided 
 he can be brought to Gray Manor at once. He will 
 live for one year here under your guardianship. I
 
 42 RED-ROBIN 
 
 will send for Percival Tubbs who, you may remem- 
 ber, tutored my grandson. Doubtless he is old- 
 f ogyish but from his long association with our family 
 he knows the Forsyth traditions and what the head 
 of the House of Forsyth should be. He will know 
 whether this boy can be trained to measure up to it. 
 If, after a year, he does not, he must go back 
 to his father. I will be fair, of course, as far as 
 money goes. If he does " She stopped suddenly, 
 her stony demeanor broken. The thin lips quivered 
 at the thought of that sunny south room in the great 
 house where had been left untouched the toys, the 
 books, the games, the precious trophies, the guns and 
 racquets, golf sticks and gloves which marked each 
 development of her beloved grandson. 
 
 "A very fair plan," murmured the lawyer. 
 
 "You have not heard all," went on Madame 
 Forsyth in such a strange voice that Cornelius 
 Allendyce looked up at her in astonishment. "I am 
 going away." 
 
 "You ! Where ?" exclaimed the man. He could 
 not quite believe his ears. 
 
 "That I do not care to divulge." She enjoyed 
 his amazement. "I am yielding to a restlessness 
 which in a younger woman you would understand, but 
 which in me you would no doubt term crazy. I 
 am going te run away to some new place, where, for 
 awhile, no one will know whether I am the rich 
 Madame Christopher Forsyth or the poor Mrs. John
 
 THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH 43 
 
 Smith. Oh, I shall be quite safe ; at my bank they 
 will be able to find me if anything happens. Norris 
 has had entire charge of the mills for a long time. 
 And Budge and Harkness can take care of 
 things here." 
 
 "Madame," the lawyer was moved out of his 
 customary reserve, " are you not possibly running 
 away from what may bring you happiness 
 and comfort?" 
 
 For the space of a moment the real heart of the 
 woman shone in her eyes. 
 
 "I am running away. I might learn to love this 
 boy and he might not be what the head of the house 
 of Forsyth should be and I would have to send him 
 back. And my heart has been torn enough. It is 
 tired. I have a whim to find new places new things 
 to rest and forget all this." 
 
 There was an interval of silence. Then Mr. 
 Allendyce, lifting his eyes from the patent-leather 
 tips of his shoes, said quietly: 
 
 "I will carry out your commands to the best of 
 my ability." 
 
 There followed, then, a great deal of discussion 
 over details. And, while carefully jotting figures 
 and memoranda in a neat, morocco bound note-book, 
 the little man of law felt as though he were writing 
 the opening chapters of some fairy-tale. 
 
 Yet there was little of the fairy-tale in the old, 
 empty house, a melancholy house in spite of its wealth
 
 '44 RED-ROBIN 
 
 of treasure, brought from every country on the globe. 
 And there was nothing of romance in the Forsyth 
 family which had come over to Connecticut from 
 England in the early days of its settlement and had 
 left to all the Forsyths to come, not only the be- 
 ginnings of the Forsyth factory where thread was 
 made by the millions of spools, and the Forsyth for- 
 tune, amassed by those same spools, but also a deal 
 of that courage which had helped those pioneers en- 
 dure the hardships and meet the obstacles of the 
 early days. 
 
 Her business at an end, Madame expressed em- 
 barrassment at her inhospitality in denying Mr. 
 Allendyce his cup of tea. Would he not stay and 
 dine with her? Mr. Allendyce did not in the least 
 desire to dine alone with his client but the Wassumsic 
 Inn was an uninviting place and New York was a 
 three hours' ride away. So he accepted with a polite 
 show of pleasure and assured Madame that he could 
 amuse himself in the library while she dressed 
 for dinner. 
 
 Left to himself, the lawyer fell to pacing the 
 velvety length of the library floor. This led him to 
 one of the long windows. He stopped and looked 
 out through it across the sloping lawns which sur- 
 rounded the house. A low ribbon of glow hung 
 over the edge of the hills which lay to the west of 
 the town. Silhouetted against it was the ragged line 
 of roofs and stacks which were the Forsyth Mills.
 
 THE HOUSE OF FORSYTH 45 
 
 Familiar with them through years of business associ- 
 ation, the little man of law visualized them now as 
 clearly as though they did not lay wrapped in evening 
 shadow; he saw the ugly, age-old walls, the glaring 
 brick of the new additions, the dingy yards, the 
 silver thread of the river and across that the rows 
 upon rows of tiny houses piled against one another, 
 each like its neighbor even to the broken pickets 
 surrounding squares of cinder ground. He knew, 
 although his eyes could not see, that these yards even 
 now were hung with the lines of everlasting washing, 
 that men lounged on those back doorsteps and smoked 
 and talked while women worked within preparing 
 the evening meals. These human beings were ma- 
 chines in the gigantic industry upon which the House 
 of Forsyth was founded. Did Madame ever think 
 of them as flesh and blood mortals like herself? 
 Cornelius Allendyce smiled at the question; oh, no, 
 the Forsyth tradition, of which Madame talked, 
 built an impenetrable wall between her and 
 those toilers. 
 
 Staring at the gray hard line of shadow that was 
 the tallest of the chimneys the man thought how like 
 it was to Madame and old Christopher Forsyth. His 
 long connection with the family and the family in- 
 terests gave the lawyer an intimate understanding of 
 them and all that had happened to them. And it 
 had been much. Mr. Allendyce himself often spoke 
 of the "curse" of Gray Manor. Christopher Forsyth
 
 46 RED-ROBIN 
 
 and Madame had had one son, Christopher Junior. 
 Allendyce could recall the elaborate festivities that 
 had marked the boy's coming of age, the almost royal 
 pomp of his wedding. Three years after that wed- 
 ding the young man and his wife had been drowned 
 while cruising with friends off the coast of South- 
 ern California. 
 
 This terrible blow might have crushed old 
 Christopher but for the toddling youngster who was 
 Christopher the Third. The grandfather and grand- 
 mother shut themselves away in Gray Manor with 
 the one purpose in life to bring up Christopher the 
 Third to take his place at the head of the House 
 of Forsyth. 
 
 At this point in his reflections Mr. Allendyce's 
 heart gave a quick throb of pity he knew what 
 that handsome lad had been to the old couple. He 
 thought now how merciful it had been that old 
 Christopher had died before that cruel accident on 
 the football field in which the lad had been fatally 
 injured. The brunt of the blow had fallen upon 
 Madame. And after the boy's death, a gloom had 
 settled over her and the old house which nothing had 
 seemed able to dispel. As a last desperate resort the 
 lawyer had suggested, with a courage that cost con- 
 siderable effort, the finding of this other heir. 
 
 Mr. Allendyce had known very little of that 
 "other branch" of the family. Old Christopher had 
 had a younger half-brother, Charles, who, at the
 
 47 
 
 time Christopher took over the responsibilities of the 
 head of the family, went off to South America where 
 he married a young Spanish girl. And from the 
 moment of that "low"' marriage, as old Christopher 
 had called it, to the investigation by Mr. Allendyce's 
 agents, nothing had been heard at Gray Manor of 
 this Charles Forsyth. 
 
 It had cost considerable money to trace him down 
 but, accomplished, Mr. Allendyce had with satisfac- 
 tion tabulated the results in his neat little note-book. 
 Charles had died leaving one son, James. James 
 had one child, Gordon. They lived at 22 Patchin 
 Place, New York City. 
 
 The thought of the fairy story flashed back into 
 the lawyer's mind. He knew his New York and 
 he knew Patchin Place, where poverty and ambition 
 elbowed one another, and squalor stabbed at the heart 
 of beauty. This Gordon Forsyth had his childhood 
 amid this, lived on the rise and fall of an artist's 
 day-by-day fortune. Now he would be taken from 
 all that, brought to Gray Manor, put under special 
 tutorage, so that, some day he could step into that 
 other lad's place. If that didn't equal an Arabian 
 Night's tale! 
 
 "I'll go down to Patchin Place myself. I'd like 
 to see their faces when I tell them!" he declared 
 aloud, with a tingle within his heart that was a thrill 
 although the little man did not know it. 
 
 Harkness coughed behind him. He turned
 
 48 RED-ROBIN" 
 
 quickly. Harkness bowed stiffly. "Madame awaits 
 you in the drawing-room." 
 
 The little man-of-the-law's chin went out. "Ma- 
 dame awaits " Poor old Madame ; she would not 
 have known how to come in and say "Let us go out 
 to dinner." There had to be all the ceremony and 
 fuss or it would not have been Gray Manor and 
 Madame Christopher Forsyth. 
 
 "All right. I'll find her," Mr. Allendyce growled. 
 Then he was startled out of his usual composure 
 by catching the suggestion of a twinkle in the Hark- 
 ness eye which, of course, should not be in a Forsyth 
 butler's eye at all.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 RED-ROBIN 
 
 FOR twenty-five years Cornelius Allendyce had 
 worn nothing but black ties. On the morning of 
 his contemplated invasion of Patchin Place in search 
 of a Forsyth heir he knotted a lavender scarf about 
 his neck and felt oddly excited. Such a sudden and 
 unexplainable impulse, he thought, must portend 
 adventure. 
 
 With a notion that all artists were "at home" 
 at tea time, Mr. Allendyce waited until four o'clock 
 before he approached his agreeable task. At the 
 door of 22 Patchin Place he dismissed his taxicab 
 and stood for a moment surveying the dilapidated 
 front of the building with a moment's mental pic- 
 ture of the magnificent pile that was Gray Manor. 
 
 A pretentious though slightly soiled register just 
 inside the doorway, told him that "James Forsyth" 
 lived on the fifth floor, so the little man toiled reso- 
 lutely up the narrow, steep stairway, puffing as he 
 ascended. It was necessary to count the landings 
 to know, in the dimness of the hallway, when he 
 reached the fifth floor. Ke had to pause outside the 
 door to catch his breath; a moment's nausea seized 
 him at the smell of stale food and damp walls. 
 
 But at his knock the door swung back upon ao 
 4 49
 
 50 RED-ROBIN 
 
 much sunshine and color that the little man blinked 
 in amazement. A mite of a girl with a halo of 
 sun-red hair smiled at him in a very friendly fashion. 
 
 "Does Mr. James Forsyth live here?" It seemed 
 almost ridiculous to ask the question for surely it 
 must be some witch's cranny upon which he had 
 stumbled. 
 
 "Yes. But Jimmie isn't home. Won't you 
 come in?" 
 
 Mr. Allendyce stared about the room a big 
 room, its size enhanced by the great glass windows 
 and the glass skylight. Everywhere bloomed flowers 
 in gayly painted boxes and pots and tubs. And 
 after another blink Mr. Allendyce perceived that there 
 were a few real chairs, very shabby, and a table 
 covered with a cloth woven in brilliant colors and 
 some very lovely pictures hanging wherever, because 
 of the windows and the sloping roof, there was 
 any place to hang them. 
 
 The young girl closed the door, whereupon there 
 came a gay chirping from birds perching, the be- 
 wildered lawyer discovered, in various places around 
 the room quite as though this corner of a tenement 
 was a woodland. 
 
 "Hush, Bo, hush. They're dreadfully noisy. 
 They love company. Won't you sit down?" 
 
 Mr. Allendyce sat gingerly upon the nearest 
 chair. His companion pulled one up close to him. 
 He perceived with something of a shock that she
 
 RED-ROBIN 51 
 
 limped and at this discovery he looked at her agam 
 and drew in a quick breath. 
 
 Why, here was the oddest little thing he had ever 
 seen. He had thought her a child, yet the wide eyes, 
 set deep and of the blue of midnight, had a quaint 
 seriousness and understanding; in the corner of her 
 lips lingered a tender droop oddly at variance with 
 the childish dimple of the finely moulded chin, 
 Though the girl's red hair like flame, as the lawyer 
 had first thought, gave her an alive look, the little 
 form under the queer straight dress was diminutive 
 to frailty. 
 
 "Who are you, my dear?" 
 
 "Robin Forsyth. Jimmie calls me Red-Robia 
 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 won- 
 dering how his investigators had failed to report 
 this young girl. 
 
 "Jimmie ought to be her? soon. He went out 
 to sell a picture to old Mrs. Wycke. She wanted it 
 but she wanted it cheap, Jimmie says. But we 
 didn't have anything to eat today so he took the 
 picture to her and he's going to bring back some 
 cake and ice cream. We'll have a party. Will 
 you stay?" 
 
 "Good heavens," thought Allendyce, startled at
 
 52 RED-ROBIN 
 
 her astonishing frankness. He reached out and 
 patted the small hand. 
 
 "You are very kind. Does your Jimmie sell- 
 many pictures?" 
 
 "Not many I heard him and Mr. Tony talking. 
 Mr. Tony's his best friend. If it were not for me 
 Jimmie'd go away with Mr. Tony. Mr. Tony writes, 
 you see, and he wants Jimmie to illustrate for him." 
 
 "And where is your brother Gordon?" 
 
 Robin stared. "My brother Gordon?" 
 
 "Yes. Gordon" 
 
 "7 am Gordon." 
 
 "You!" 
 
 "My real name is Gordon but Jimmie doesn't like 
 it He always said it was too formal for a little 
 girl. So he calls me Red-Robin and he says he'll 
 never call me anything else. Why do you look 
 so funny?" 
 
 For Mr. Allendyce seemed to have crumpled to- 
 gether and to be quite speechless. 
 
 "Don't you think I'm too, oh, sort of insignificant, 
 to be Gordon? I like Robin much better." 
 
 The lawyer did not hear her. Here was a fine 
 balking of all his and Madame's plans. The 
 Forsyth heir! That that heir should be a girl had 
 never entered their calculations. And a little lame 
 girl at that; Mr. Allendyce suddenly recalled how 
 Madame had worshipped the splendid manliness of 
 young Christopher the Third.
 
 RED-ROBIN 53 
 
 "Is there anything the matter with you, Mr. 
 why, you haven't told me your name!" 
 
 With a tremendous effort Cornelius Allendyce 
 pulled himself together. He flushed under the won- 
 dering wide-eyed scrutiny of his companion, who 
 reached out and laid a small, warm hand upon his. 
 
 "You're not ill, are you?" with solicitude. 
 
 "No no, my dear. No, I am not ill. But I 
 am upset. You see I came here well, I call it 
 a most interesting story. Up in Connecticut there's 
 a small town and a very big mill which has been 
 there for ever so long, heaping up millions of dollars. 
 And there's a very big house there that looks like 
 a castle because it's built of gray stone and is up 
 on a hill it has everything but the moat itself. 
 And an old lady lives there all alone." The lawyer 
 paused, a little frightened at a wild thought that 
 was persistently creeping up over his sensibilities. 
 It must be the lavender tie or the witchery of the 
 flowers and the absurd chirping birds. 
 
 "Oh, that's the old Dragon!" cried Robin, de- 
 lightedly, with a chuckle as though she knew all about 
 the old lady and the lonely castle. "That's what 
 Jimmie calls her poor old thing. Jimmie says she 
 must be dreadfully unhappy in that lonely old house 
 after all that's happened there." 
 
 "Do you do you mean that you know " 
 
 "About those rich Forsyth's? Why, of
 
 54 RED-RCBIN 
 
 course. That's Jimmie's pet story about his 
 terrible relatives." 
 
 "But your father has never " 
 
 "Seen her? Oh, no. Jimmie's very proud, you 
 see. And he thinks one good picture is worth more 
 than any old fortune or mill or anything. Oh, 
 Jimmie's wonderful. Why, we wouldn't trade our 
 little home here for two of her castles! Jimmie 
 couldn't paint if he were rich. He says money kills 
 genius. Only " She stopped abruptly, flushing. 
 
 "Only what, my dear " 
 
 "I ought not to rattle on like this to you. Jimmie 
 says I am sometimes too friendly. I suppose it's 
 because I don't know many people. But I wish I 
 just had a little money. You see I'm not a bit of 
 a genius. I can't paint like Jimmie or sing like my 
 mother did or do a single thing." 
 
 Now Mr. Allendyce suddenly felt so excited that 
 he wriggled on the rickety chair until it creaked 
 threateningly. 
 
 "If you had money, Miss Gordon what would 
 you do?" 
 
 "Why I'd run away." She answered with 
 startling promptness. "Oh, I don't mean that I'm 
 not happy here. I love it. And I adore Jimmie. 
 But I'm a girl and I'm lame, so I'm a a millstone 
 'round Jimmie's neck!" 
 
 "What in the world" 
 
 "Promise you won't ever tell him what I'm say-
 
 RED-ROBIN 55 
 
 ing. Oh, he'd feel dreadfully. You see it's just 
 that. He feels sorry 'cause I'm lame and he won't 
 believe that I don't mind a bit why, I can run and 
 do everything and he won't ever go anywhere with- 
 out me. And an artist shouldn't have to be tied 
 down ; I heard Mr. Tony say so, once, when Jimmie 
 was very blue. He didn't know I heard. Now 
 Mr. Tony's going off for a long cruise in the Soutk 
 Seas on a sailing boat and he wants Jimmie to go witk 
 him. He's going to write stories and he says if 
 Jimmie sees it all he will make his fortune painting 
 pictures. And he can illustrate the stories, too. And 
 Jimmie won't go because he won't leave me. Don't 
 you see what I'd do if I had some money? I'd 
 run away somewhere and tell Jimmie that he must 
 go with Mr. Tony." 
 
 Mr. Allendyce sprang to his feet and paced up 
 and down the room. In all his life the world had 
 never seemed so full of youth and color and adven- 
 ture as it did at that precise moment; his cautious 
 soul fairly burst with imaginative daring. 
 
 "Miss Gordon that's what I came for. I mean, 
 I came to tell this Gordon Forsyth that the old lady, 
 Madame Forsyth, wanted him to come to Gray 
 Manor to live for a year. He's to be tutored 
 there. And if at the end of a year he is a " 
 "But there isn't any he ! Gordon's me." 
 "I know. I know. But a Forsyth's a Forsyth." 
 "You mean / might go to the castle >"
 
 56 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Yes, why not? Madame and I just took 
 it for granted that you were a boy, because of your 
 name. But our mistake does not make you any less 
 a Forsyth or less a possible heir " The thought 
 was a full-fledged idea now! 
 
 "Who are you?" broke in Robin, excitedly. 
 
 "I am Cornelius Allendyce, attorney for the 
 Forsyth family. And I am if your father con- 
 sents your future guardian." 
 
 "Oh, Jimmie'll never consent, never!" 
 
 "Why not?" pressed the lawyer. "You say you 
 have no particular genius to be killed by money." 
 
 "Would it mean that I'd have to give Jimmie 
 up forever?" 
 
 "No, my dear. Indeed no. Madame's plan is 
 that you are to go to Gray Manor under my guardian- 
 ship to live for a year. At the end of that time, 
 if she is satisfied Why, your father would simply 
 give up any claim " 
 
 "Oh, you don't know Jimmie. He'd never do 
 it, unless " she paused, her eyes suddenly wet, 
 "unless 7 gave him up. All his life he's made 
 sacrifices and given up things for me big chances. 
 So now couldn't I run away with you and then 
 write and tell him?" 
 
 The Cornelius Allendyce who had lived up to 
 that moment of crossing the threshold of this fifth- 
 floor witchery would have scorned such a suggestion 
 as "ridiculous! ridiculous!" But the Cornelius
 
 RED-ROBIN 57; 
 
 Allendyce of the lavender tie saw mad possibilities 
 in such a step. Take the girl to Gray Manor and 
 settle with Mr. James Forsyth afterwards. 
 
 "Couldn't I?" 
 
 "Why yes, if you think your father would 
 accept the situation when he knew." 
 
 "Oh, I'd tell him he had to, that he must go away 
 with Mr. Tony. And he'd go. But, Mr. Allendyce 
 I couldn't go tonight. I just couldn't let Jimmie 
 tome back with the ice cream and cake and maybe 
 a. pumpkin pie and not find me here. Our parties 
 are such fun. If you'll come tomorrow at three 
 o'clock I'll be ready. But what will the Dragon 
 say when she sees that I'm a girl?" 
 
 Mr. Allendyce suddenly laughed aloud. The 
 whole thing was so very simple. Madame only 
 waited a telegram from him to set forth upon her 
 travels. Why let her know that Gordon was a girl 
 until the year had passed? 
 
 "We will not worry about that, my dear. Ma- 
 dame is going away. She will not be back at Gray 
 Manor for a long time. I will call at three tomor- 
 row. I trust you will make your Jimmie understand. 
 You know this is a very unusual step there are 
 some who might call it abduction " 
 
 "Oh, Jimmie wouldn't!" assured Robin. "Not 
 when I tell him why I'm running away." 
 
 Robm had answered him so indifferently that 
 Cornelius Allendyce felt her mind was working out
 
 58 RED-ROBIN 
 
 a plan for the morrow. He gave a last look about 
 the room as though he wished to carry away a per- 
 fect impression of it, then patted the girl on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 "Here is my card and the telephone number of 
 my office. If you decide that this step is too irregu- 
 lar, if perhaps we ought to talk with your father 
 first" 
 
 "No! No!" cried Robin. "That would spoil 
 ererything !" 
 
 Down in the street Cornelius Allendyce waved off 
 a persistent taxi driver, deciding that he needed the 
 rent of exercise to bring him back to earth. And 
 as he hurried along he felt a curious elation, as though 
 for the first time he enjoyed a zest in living. As a 
 lawyer his life had been necessarily cut-and-dried ; 
 there had been little room for adventuring. And 
 now, in a brief half -hour, he had let himself into the 
 wildest sort of conspiracy. (He stopped suddenly 
 and mopped his forehead.) He was planning to 
 {deliberately deceive Madame Forsyth, to steal a young 
 and very unusual girl from her parent and, to 
 assume the guardianship of this same runaway. 
 [Where would it all end? 
 
 But in that half-hour just past something must 
 have happened to the little man's conscience for 
 even after the startling summing up, he laughed and 
 walked on with a step lighter than before.
 
 RED-ROBIN 59 
 
 ******* 
 
 Back on the fifth floor of the old house in Patchin 
 Place Robin leaned over the table writing a letter. 
 Her task was made the more difficult because of the 
 tears which blinded her eyes. 
 
 "Jimmie, I love you more than anything in the 
 world but I am going to run away and leave you. 
 T am going to the Dragon. She wants an heir. 
 I am going to live in the castle and have a tutor. 
 And my guardian is going to be the Dragon's lawyer 
 he's ever so nice and fathery so you see I will 
 be looked after as well as can be. Jimmie dearest- 
 darling, you must not worry about me or try to make 
 me come back for I'll be all right and you must go 
 away with Mr. Tony and paint lots and I'll be so 
 proud. And please, please Jimmie, make Aunt 
 Milly promise to take care of the birds and the 
 flowers for they mustn't die. And you will write 
 to me, won't you? Goodbye, Jimmie, don't forget 
 your hot milk at night. Yours always and always, 
 Red-Robin." 
 
 She had just signed the letter when James 
 Forsyth opened the door. She thrust it into her 
 'pocket as she turned to meet him. 
 
 "Oh, Jimmie!" she cried, for under his arm he 
 carried the picture he had taken to sell to Mrs. Wycke. 
 
 "She didn't want it," he explained, testily. 
 
 The girl had been well schooled in disappoint- 
 ment ; not the slightest shadow now crossed her face.
 
 6o RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Someone will, Jimmie," she declared, brightly, 
 taking the heavy package from him. "And you said 
 yourself Mrs. Wycke couldn't tell a chromo from 
 a masterpiece. We don't want her to have our pic- 
 ture anyway. I'm not a bit hungry are you, 
 Jimmie? Let's sit here all cosy and you read to 
 me " and thinking of the note that lay in her pocket, 
 she reached up very suddenly and kissed her Jimmie 
 to hide the break in her voice.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 JIMMIE 
 
 ROBIN found running away amazingly simple. 
 Poor Jimmie, at her urging, went out quite unsus- 
 pecting. She was so excited and there was so much 
 to be done at the last moment, that she had no time 
 to think what the parting with all she loved so dearly 
 must mean to her. 
 
 Promptly at three o'clock Cornelius Allendyce 
 tapped on the door. His face was very red and 
 moist and his hand, as he reached out for Robin's 
 bag, shook, but Robin did not notice all that; she 
 slipped quickly through the door and shut it behind 
 her, as though fearful that at the last moment she 
 might find it impossible to go. 
 
 Out in the thin sunshine, whirring through the 
 traffic of the crowded streets, neither spoke for 
 breathlessness. Cornelius Allendyce stared at the 
 buildings and swallowed at regular intervals to steady 
 his nerves a trick he had always found most help- 
 ful in important legal trials. Robin kept her eyes 
 glued on the back of the taxi driver's head but he 
 might have had two heads and one upside down for 
 all she noticed. Her hands in her lap were clenched 
 very tight and her lips were pressed in a straight, 
 
 thin, resolute line. 
 
 61
 
 62 RED-ROBIN 
 
 But as tney kept on past Forty-second street 
 and headed toward Central Park West the lawyer 
 explained that he was taking her to his own home 
 for the night. 
 
 "My sister will make you quite comfortable. 
 Tomorrow we will go out to Wassumsic." He did 
 not say that it was important, too, to give Madam* 
 Forsyth ample opportunity to get away from 
 Gray Manor. 
 
 Robin drew a long breath and relaxed. It had 
 taken so very much courage to run away that she had 
 little left with which to face her new. life. Tomor- 
 row it might be easier. 
 
 Miss Effie Allendyce took her under her wing 
 in a fluttery, mothery sort of a jvay with a great 
 many "my dear's." 
 
 "I suppose," the lawyer had said, looking at the 
 two, "you, Effie, will have to get Miss Forsyth some 
 clothes tomorrow " 
 
 "Clothes," Robin cried, astonished. *'I brought 
 some." 
 
 "Well, you probably ought to have some other 
 kind. You see, my dear, you are a Forsyth of 
 Gray Manor now." He turned to his sister. "Effie, 
 can you get all she needs everything, before to- 
 morrow at three o'clock?" 
 
 Effie's eyes danced at such a task indeed, she 
 could. She knew a shop where she could buy every- 
 thing that a girl might need.
 
 JIMMIE 63 
 
 "Well, I'll leave you two to make out lists. Isn't 
 tkat what you have to do?" 
 
 So, for a few hours the making of these amazing 
 lists kept Robin's thoughts from that little fifth floor 
 home and Jimmie. Miss Efrie began with shoes and 
 finished with hats, with little abbreviations in brackets 
 to include caps and scarfs and all sorts of things. 
 "It is very cold in Wassumsic," she explained, "and 
 you will live a great deal out of doors. It is very 
 lovely," she added, making a round period after 
 "sweater." 
 
 And there was another list which included a 
 wrist watch and a writing set. "They can send on 
 *iost of these things," she pondered. 
 
 Robin slyly pinched herself to know that she 
 was still a living-breathing girl ; all seemed as unreal 
 as though she had slipped away into a magician's 
 world. 
 
 But the lists completed, dinner over, alone with 
 her new guardian, an overwhelming loneliness swept 
 her. Cornelius Allendyce, turning from a protracted 
 study of the blazing fire, was startled to find the 
 girl's head pillowed in her arm, her shoulders shaking 
 with smothered sobs. 
 
 "My dear ! My dear !" he exclaimed, very much 
 as Miss Efrie would have done. 
 
 "I I can't help it. I tried" 
 
 Poor Robin looked so very small in the big chair 
 that remorse seized Cornelius Allendyce. How could
 
 64 RED-ROBIN 
 
 he have taken this little girl from her corner, shabby 
 as it was? 
 
 It was not too late 
 
 "Miss Gordon," he began a little uneasily, won- 
 dering what guardians did when their wards were 
 hysterical. "My dear, don't cry, I beg of you. 
 Come, it is not too late to go back. We will 
 explain* " 
 
 Robin lifted her head. "I I don't want to go 
 back. But I was thinking of Jimmie. He must be 
 awfully lonesome now. You see you don't know 
 Jimmie. He depends on me to remind him of things 
 like his hot milk. And just at first, it will be hard. 
 But, no, no, I don't want to go back." 
 
 "Then I would suggest that you go to bed. You 
 are doubtless very tired from the excitement of every- 
 thing. And tomorrow will be a busy day and an 
 interesting day." 
 
 Robin drew herself slowly from the chair. She 
 limped over to the divan upon which Cornelius 
 Allendyce sat. Her eyes were very steady, dark 
 with earnestness. 
 
 "I'm ashamed I cried. I won't do it again. But 
 I want you to know, oh, you must know, that I'm 
 not going to Gray Manor because of all those clothes 
 and the money or anything like that. There could 
 not be anything at Gray Manor as nice as Jimmie 's 
 and my bird-cage. But I want Jimmie to have 
 his chance "
 
 JIMMIE 65 
 
 Left alone, Cornelius Allendyce found himself 
 haunted by Robin's "Jimmie must be awfully lone- 
 some." What a strange pair the quaint old-young 
 girl living in a world which circled around this 
 father the father, by the girl's own assertion, "de- 
 pending" upon the girl. And little Robin, scarcely 
 more than a child, realizing that she hindered the 
 man's development, talking about giving him "his 
 chance" and at such cost and promising that she 
 would not cry again. "There's bravery for you!" 
 muttered the lawyer aloud. 
 
 He believed that Miss Effie's lists of finery and 
 knick-knacks held little attraction for the girl. 
 
 He recalled Madame Forsyth's scornful "that 
 other branch of the family." Yet this James 
 Forsyth and Gordon had lived for years and often 
 in want in New York City, and had never approached 
 Madame for as much as a penny. Robin had said 
 Jimmie couldn't paint if he were ricn. Could he 
 paint if he lost her? 
 
 Suddenly Cornelius Allendyce had a vivid under- 
 standing of the tie that bound these two. And it 
 was unthinkable that this man would let the girl 
 go and do nothing. Yet it was not of any possible 
 embarrassment he might suffer that Cornelius Allen- 
 dyce thought at this moment; it was of the heart- 
 break of the father. He had not considered him at 
 all ; carried away by a mad impulse he had let himself 
 6
 
 66 RED-ROBIN 
 
 listen to a child and had lost his own sense of justice. 
 Why, it had been rank robbery! He must go to 
 this man at once. Muttering to himself he went 
 in search of his hat and coat. 
 
 For the third time the little lawyer climbed the 
 flights of stairs at 22 Patchin Place. And this time, 
 so eager was he to square himself with Robin's 
 Jimmie, he ran up the steps. He knocked twice and 
 when no one answered he opened the door quietly 
 and walked in. 
 
 A man sat at the litttle table, his head dropped 
 in his outflung arms. Cornelius Allendyce knew it 
 was Jimmie. Another man stood over him, his 
 face flushed with impatience. "Mr. Tony," thought 
 the lawyer. He was evidently just drawing breath 
 after a heated argument. 
 
 "Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I knocked 
 but I do not think you heard me." Allendyce 
 stopped short, for his usual measured words seemed 
 out of place at this moment. "I am Cornelius 
 Allendyce," he finished humbly and guiltily. "I 
 came back to explain." 
 
 James Forsyth made a lightning-quick movement 
 as though he would spring at the little lawyer's 
 throat. Mr. Tony held him back. 
 
 "Jimmie wait. Let him talk." 
 
 "It was Miss Robin's wish to slip away without
 
 JIMMIE 67 
 
 telling you. She said you would not let her go and 
 she had quite made up her mind to give you what 
 she calls your chance. She has an idea that she 
 ties you down " 
 
 Jimmie choked as a sob strangled in his throat. 
 His anger suddenly melted to abjection. Mr. Tony 
 laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned 
 to the lawyer. 
 
 "The girl is right. She's a wonderful little 
 thing. She always could see further ahead than her 
 Dad. I have been telling my pal that this is the best 
 thing all around that could happen a fine bit of 
 luck for everyone. Robin will go up to Gray Manor 
 and be as happy and safe as can be and her father 
 can travel and work the way Robin wants him to. 
 Robin took rather unusual means to gain her end 
 but well, she knew what she was doing." 
 
 Jimmie turned to Cornelius Allendyce and studied 
 his face with a desperate keenness. 
 
 "She isn't like other children," he began slowly. 
 "Poor little crooked kiddie. She's sensitive. I've 
 kept her away from everything that could hurt her. 
 I've tried to make up to her. I thought she was 
 happy; I did not know she guessed or knew " 
 
 Mr. Tony had taken a few steps down the room. 
 He wheeled now and came back with a set expression 
 on his face as though he had to say something dis- 
 agreeable and must get it over with. 
 
 "Jimmie, suppose, just for once, you look your
 
 68 RED-ROBIN 
 
 soul straight in the eye honest. Now isn't it the 
 artist heart of you that's hurt by Robin's crooked 
 little body and not the child? Don't you keep her 
 shut up in here because, when people stare at her 
 you suffer ? Have you been fair to her ? Oh, yes 
 you love her, all right. Well, then, let her go. Robin 
 thinks she's giving you your chance well, / say, 
 give the girl her own." 
 
 "I tell you Robin's different she doesn't want 
 money or clothes!" 
 
 "Well, pretty things and good food can make 
 even a "different" girl's heart lighter. Come, old 
 man, go off with me on this cruise and work your 
 head off and at the end of the year if Robin's not 
 happy there, well, you can make other plans. I'm 
 like Robin, I believe that give you a year, you'll do 
 something rather big." 
 
 James Forsyth suddenly lifted a face so boyishly 
 helpless, so defeated, that Allendyce's heart went out 
 to him. He understood, all at once, what little Robin 
 had meant when she had said, "You don't know 
 Jimmie !" He certainly was not like other men. 
 
 "I feel such a quitter. I promised Robin's 
 mother I'd make up to the child for her being lame 
 the way she would have, if she'd lived. And I've 
 failed. Why, only last night she went to bed hun- 
 gry." There followed a moment of tense silence, 
 then the man went on dully, in a tone that implied 
 yielding. "I suppose I may know all the circum- 
 stances that led up to this."
 
 JIMMIE 69 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce proceeded to tell everything 
 from the day of his interview with Madame to the 
 moment of his consternation upon discovering that 
 Gordon Forsyth was a girl and not a boy. He re- 
 peated word for word Robin's and his conspiring; 
 he described their flight and Robin's break down in 
 his library. 
 
 "She had not lost courage oh, no. But she was 
 thinking of you. She was afraid you'd forget to 
 take your hot milk at night or something like that," 
 he finished simply. 
 
 There were other details for the lawyer to ex- 
 plain to James Forsyth, having to do with allow- 
 ances and schooling. Then, when everything had 
 been said that was necessary to be said, James Forsyth 
 rose wearily. 
 
 "If that's all, I'd like it if you two would leave 
 me here alone." He held out his hand to Mr. 
 Allendyce. "Understand, if she's not happy " 
 
 "Our agreement ends."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE FORSYTH HEIR 
 
 HARKNESS' mother had once lived in an English 
 duke's family and Harkness had been brought up on 
 stories of the ceremonious life there. Therefore he 
 considered it quite fitting that he should take upon 
 himself the planning for the reception of the 
 Forsyth heir. 
 
 "I say it do be a pity Madame could not 'ave 
 waited," he grumbled to Mrs. Budge. "To 'ave the 
 poor little fellow arrive here alone don't seem 
 right. But Madame says 'Harkness, you'll do every- 
 thing' " 
 
 "Everything!" snorted Mrs. Budge, who had just 
 come down from dusting the "boy's" room. The 
 familiar "clutter," as she had always called it, had 
 roused poignant memories, so that her wrinkled face 
 was streaked now and red. ' 'Pears to me most you 
 do is talk and talk big. It's Harkness this and 
 Harkness that ! To be sure my mother was a plain 
 New England woman " 
 
 "Now, Budge, now, Budge," interrupted Hark- 
 ness, consolingly. "No one as I know is going to 
 dispute that your mother was a plain New England 
 woman. And we're not going to quarrel at such 
 a rememberable moment, not we. And we're going 
 to give Mr. Gordon a welcome as is befitting a 
 70
 
 THE FORSYTH HEIR 71 
 
 Forsyth. At the appointed hour we'll gather at the 
 door you must stand at the head of the long line 
 of servants " 
 
 "Long line of servants ! And where do you ex- 
 pect to get them, I'd like to know? Things have 
 been at sixes and sevens in this house ever since the 
 gloom came. And that new piece from the village 
 ain't worth her salt 's far as work goes." 
 
 Poor Harkness had to recognize the truth of 
 what Budge said. Since the "gloom" things had 
 been going at sixes and sevens inexperienced help 
 called up from the village to fill any need. He was 
 not to be daunted, however ; there were the gardener 
 and the undergardener and the chauffeur and the 
 stableman and they had wives who might be induced 
 to put on their Sunday clothes and join in the cere- 
 monial all in all, they could make a fair showing. 
 
 Into the plans for the dinner Mrs. Budge threw 
 herself with her whole heart. There must be young 
 turkey and cranberry sauce, and a tasty salad and a 
 good old New England pumpkin pie, which she would 
 make herself, and ice cream and little cakes with 
 colored frosting oh, Budge knew what a boy liked. 
 
 And Harkness would brighten the great dark 
 hall with bitter-sweet and deck the gloomy rooms 
 with flowers he knew what was proper for the 
 coming of the heir of the House of Forsyth. 
 
 "Like as not," Budge said, " 'twill be the end to 
 this curse."
 
 72 RED-ROBIN 
 
 So the two old retainers, their hearts full of hope 
 for a new happiness over Gray Manor, labored until 
 the old house shone and bloomed for the coming 
 of Gordon Forsyth. And a few minutes before the 
 hour of arrival, the gardener and the undergardener 
 and the stableman and their wives came in, breathless 
 with importance; Chloe, the old colored cook, ap- 
 peared in a brand new turban and 'kerchief. Mrs. 
 Budge, her gray hair brushed back tighter than ever, 
 donned her black silk which she had not worn since 
 young Christopher's eighteenth birthday and took 
 her place at the head of the line just a foot or two 
 behind Harkness who, of course, had the honor of 
 opening the door. 
 
 Mrs. Budge, however, watched the service door 
 at the end of the long hall with fretful eyes. "That 
 piece," she confided to Harkness, the moment not 
 being so important as to still her grumbling, "said 
 she wouldn't come in. And when I told her she 
 could just choose t'wixt this and the door she said 
 she wouldn't dress up, anyways. Impertinent chit! 
 Thinks she's too good for the place. Things have 
 gone to sixes and sevens " 
 
 Harkness was holding his watch in his hand. 
 And just as he shut it with a significant click, a tall 
 dark-haired girl in a plain gingham dress slipped 
 into the room and took her place at the end of the 
 line, at the same moment casting a defiant glance 
 at the knot which adorned the back of Mrs. 
 Budge's head.
 
 THE FORSYTH HEIR 73 
 
 Above the low murmur of voices came the throb 
 of a motor. 
 
 "It's him !" cried Harkness, a catch in his voice. 
 Mrs. Budge shut her eyes tight from sheer nervous- 
 ness. There was a visible straightening and a rus- 
 tling of the line. Then Harkness threw the door open 
 and bent low. 
 
 On the threshold stood a small girl; her eyes, 
 under the fringe of red hair, wide with excitement, 
 frightened. 
 
 Harkness had opened his lips for his little speech 
 of welcome but the first sound died with a cackle 
 in his throat, leaving his mouth agape. He stared 
 at the little creature and beyond her at Cornelius 
 Allendyce, who was superintending the unloading of 
 several bags and boxes. 
 
 Where was Gordon Forsyth? 
 
 Turning, Mr. Allendyce, at one glance, took in 
 the situation. He bustled up the steps, and thrust 
 a bag in Harkness' limp hand. 
 
 "Well, we're here!" he cried cheerily, ignoring 
 the amazement and disappointment that fairly tingled 
 in the air. "And a fine welcome you're giving us !" 
 He turned to Robin, who stood rooted to the thresh- 
 old. "My dear, these people have served the 
 Forsyths faithfully and for a long time. Harkness, 
 this is Gordon Forsyth. Mrs. Budge " 
 
 He drew aside to let Robin enter. And Robin, 
 conscious of startled, curious eyes upon her, limped 
 into her new home. Harkness, because he had to
 
 74 RED-ROBIN 
 
 do something, closed the door slowly behind her. 
 
 "I'm sure we were expecting " he mumbled. 
 
 Mr. Allendyce imperiously waved off whatever 
 Harkness was expecting. 
 
 "We hope, Mrs. Budge, you are prepared for 
 two hungry people. We lunched very early and the 
 ride here is always tiresome. In Madame's absence, 
 I am sure you will take care of Miss Gordon and 
 me." There was the finest inflection on the 
 "miss." "I shall stay a day or two. Robin, my 
 dear, this is your new home." 
 
 Robin had been biting her lips to keep them 
 steady. There was something so terrible in the great 
 hall, the broad stair that lost itself in a cavern of 
 darkness above, the brilliant lights, the staring faces. 
 Her eyes swept from Mrs. Budge's stony face down 
 the line and crossed the curious glance of the dark- 
 haired girl in the gingham dress. Robin's bright- 
 ened, for the girl was young, but the girl flushed a 
 dark red, tossed her head and stalked through the 
 narrow service door out of the room. 
 
 Robin turned to Cornelius Allendyce and clung 
 to his arm. He seemed the one nice friendly thing 
 in the whole place. And, as though he knew how she 
 felt, he patted her hand in a way that seemed to say, 
 "Courage, my dear." 
 
 Mrs. Budge recovered her tongue. "She'll not 
 be wanting the young master's room," she said 
 crisply. "Madame's orders* "
 
 THE FORSYTH HEIR 75 
 
 "I would suggest that Miss Gordon decide for 
 herself what room she will have." The lawyer's 
 voice carried a rebuke that was not lost upon the 
 housekeeper. "Harkness, carry the bags upstairs 
 and Miss Gordon and I will follow." 
 
 So Harkness' reception line broke up; the gar- 
 dener and the undergardener and their wives follow- 
 ing Mrs. Budge's stiff back out through the service 
 door while Harkness led Robin and her new guardian 
 up the broad stairway. 
 
 In the kitchen, for very want of strength, Mrs. 
 Budge flopped into a chair. 
 
 "Sixes and sevens!" she gasped. "I'll say that 
 things are just going to sixes and sevens. I've 
 always distrusted all lawyer-men and this one ain't 
 a bit different. Bringing a girl here, and a cripple. 
 Did you ever hear the like?" She looked from one 
 to the other of Harkness' retainers and answered 
 herself with the same breath. "You never did. 
 Don't know when I've been so flabbergasted. Mebbe 
 she's a Forsyth but she ain't a worth-while Forsyth. 
 She ain't. As if a girl could step into our boy's 
 shoes." She sniffed audibly. "She don't take in 
 Hannah Budge." 
 
 When Harkness appeared there was a fresh out- 
 burst and a reiteration that Hannah Budge "wasn't 
 going to be taken in by a piece no bigger'n a pint 
 of cider."
 
 76 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Well, the girl's here and hungry," Harkness 
 retorted with meaning abruptness. 
 
 A sense of duty never failed to spur poor Budge. 
 She rose, now, quickly. ''Humph, like as not with 
 everything else going to sixes and sevens that old 
 Chloe's forgot her turkey," and with a heavy sigh 
 that fairly rattled the stiff silk on her bosom she 
 went off in search of the cook. 
 
 Robin found much difficulty in choosing her room 
 for they all seemed equally lovely in the perfection 
 of their furnishings. She had stood for a moment 
 in the door of the south room that had been Christo- 
 pher the Third's. "Here's where they'd have put 
 you if you were a boy," her new guardian had told 
 her. In spite of Mrs. Budge's efforts at cleaning 
 and dusting, a melancholy hung over the room and 
 about all the boyish things there was such a sense 
 of waiting that Robin was glad to turn away. Finally 
 she decided upon a west room the windows of which 
 overlooked the valley and the hills beyond. 
 
 "Oh, wouldn't Jimmie love that?" she had cried, 
 lingering in one of the windows. "He loves hills, 
 and doesn't that river look like a silver ribbon tying 
 the brown fields?" 
 
 The bedroom opened on one side into a sitting 
 room with a bay window, on the other into a tiny 
 bathroom, shining and gleaming with nickel and tile. 
 
 "Oh, everything's lovely," and Robin ecstatically 
 clasped her hands. "Only what'll I ever do with 
 everything so big!"
 
 THE FORSYTH HEIR 77 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce laughed at her dismay. To 
 be sure he had not spent his life in such tiny quarters 
 as the bird cage and he could not understand the 
 girl's state of mind. 
 
 "My dear, after a little everything will seem 
 quite natural. And remember everything is at your 
 command. This is your home. You are Gordon 
 Forsyth. You will not have time to be lonely." 
 
 Robin's serious face suddenly broke into a bright 
 smile. She patted the garland of roses which held 
 back the silk hangings. 
 
 "I just had the funniest feeling, as if I were not 
 me at all but all of a sudden someone else. Ever 
 since I was a very little girl I've often played that 
 I lived a make-believe story I make it like all the 
 fairy stories jumbled together. And I fit all the 
 people I know into the different characters. Jimmie 
 lets me play it because I am alone so much and it 
 keeps me happy. Sometimes he even plays it with 
 me. It makes horrid things seem nice. And 
 Jimmie never wanted me to know the boys and girls 
 at school because I'm lame, I guess so I always 
 pretended things about them and gave them names. 
 You should have seen Bluebeard." She laughed at 
 the recollection. "And now I'm going on playing. 
 I'm the little beggar-maid who awakens to find her 
 self in the castle. Do you suppose there's a fairy 
 godmother somewhere? And a prince?" 
 
 And Cornelius Allendyce who had never read a
 
 78 RED-ROBIN 
 
 fairy story in his life, let alone acted one, laughed 
 
 with her. 
 
 "Yes, this is another chapter in your story." 
 "Oh, and don't you wish we could just peek 
 
 to the end and see how it all turns out? But that 
 
 isn't fair. And we couldn't anyway." 
 
 Her new guardian shook his head. "No, we 
 
 couldn't anyway. ' ' 
 
 '
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 BERYL 
 
 A BELL tinkling somewhere in the house wakened 
 Robin the next morning. Through the flowered 
 chintz curtains of her window the sun shone with a 
 warmth out of all keeping with the time of the 
 year, throwing such a joyous glow about everything 
 in the room that she rubbed her eyes to be sure 
 she was not dreaming. 
 
 The evening before, everything had seemed so 
 strange that Robin had not been able to take in small 
 things; now an immense cuqosity to explore Gray 
 Manor, and the grounds that were like Central Park, 
 and the little town, and the hills around it, seized her. 
 She slipped her feet out of bed and into the satin 
 slippers which had been one of Miss Effie's purchases. 
 She dressed with feverish haste, rebuking herself for 
 having slept so late, for her new wrist watch told 
 her it was after ten o'clock. 
 
 Ten o'clock why, on Patchin Place the morning 
 was almost over at that hour, the streets about thun- 
 dering with the work of the day. And here it was 
 as still as night, or as a church on a weekday, 
 Robin thought. 
 
 Dressed, she opened the door of her room very 
 
 quietly and peeped curiously out. And there in the 
 
 79
 
 So RED-ROBIN 
 
 wide hall, dusting an old highboy, was the girl with 
 the dark hair. 
 
 "Hullo!" exclaimed Robin, delighted at the 
 encounter. 
 
 The girl stared for a moment. She was tall and 
 thin ; her eyes so intensely blue as to look black and 
 startling in their contrast to the whiteness of her 
 skin. They were brooding, smoldering eyes and a 
 too frequent scowl was making tiny lines between 
 the straight black eyebrows. 
 
 "Isn't this the wonderfulest morning?" Robin ad- 
 vanced, stepping nearer. "What is your name? 
 I'm Robin I mean Gordon Forsyth." 
 
 "I know that. My name's Beryl but I guess it 
 doesn't make much difference to you what I'm called. 
 The man who came with you's waiting downstairs." 
 
 In spite of this rebuff Robin lingered for a 
 moment, hopeful of a pleasanter word. But the 
 girl Beryl shouldered her duster and marched off, 
 head high. 
 
 "I'm going to find out more about her right off," 
 determined Robin as she went in search of her 
 guardian. 
 
 The big rooms below, like her own room, looked 
 very different in the morning light, even cheery. 
 Mr. Allendyce greeted her with a smile and Harkness' 
 "Good-morning, Miss Gordon," had pleasant warmth. 
 It was fun to sit in the high-backed chair before 
 the shining silver and the flowers and to choose
 
 BERYL 81 
 
 between grapefruit and frosted orange juice. So 
 fascinated was Robin that she forgot for the time, 
 her interest in the girl she had encountered upstairs. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of Gray Manor in 
 daylight?" asked Mr. Allendyce as the two walked 
 into the library. 
 
 "Oh, it's more like a great castle than ever. But 
 it isn't half as bad as I thought it was." When 
 Robin caught the amused twinkle in her guardian's 
 eye she added hastily : "I mean, it isn't gloomy and 
 sad at all. It's so beautiful and I love beauti- 
 ful things." 
 
 Mr. Allendyce thought suddenly that it was the 
 first time for a long time he had seen these rooms 
 when they had not seemed overhung with melan- 
 choly. But he checked any expression of the 
 thought; instead he took Robin on a tour through 
 the library and drawing rooms, pointing out to her 
 the treasures which had been brought from every 
 corner of the world. There were rare tapestries 
 and bronzes, and tiny ivory carvings and tables inlaid 
 with bright jade and old crystal candelabra, and 
 quaint chests and wonderful paintings and rare old 
 books. As he told the story of each, Cornelius 
 Allendyce marvelled at the girl's quick appreciation 
 and intelligent interest. Her Jimmie had evidently 
 gathered travelled people about him and Robin had 
 been always a sharp listener. 
 
 Then Harkness interrupted their pleasant occu- 
 6
 
 82 RED-ROBIN 
 
 pation by appealing to Robin for "his orders" with 
 such a comical solemnity that Robin had difficulty 
 suppressing a nervous giggle. Her guardian came 
 to her rescue with the suggestion that they drive 
 about the town and the mills, have an early tea 
 and an early dinner and dispense with luncheon. 
 
 "Must I tell him every day just what I want?" 
 thought Robin, in dismay. 
 
 The girl's active imagination could well picture 
 the imposing motor which came to the door as a 
 coach-and-four, resplendent with regal trappings. 
 And, cuddled in the wolf -skin robes, flying over the 
 frosty roads which wound through the hills, it was 
 very easy to feel like a princess from one of her 
 own stories. 
 
 Only the mills spoiled her lovely day. The even- 
 ing before they had loomed obscurely and interest- 
 ingly but in broad daylight they were ugly. The 
 great chimneys belched black smoke into the beauti- 
 ful blue of the sky; the monotonous drone of many 
 machines jarred the hillside quiet. Everything was 
 so dusty and dirty even the tiny houses where the 
 men lived. Robin, brought up though she had been 
 in Patchin Place, turned in disgust from the dreary 
 ugliness about her. 
 
 "Does it have to be like that?" she asked her 
 guardian. 
 
 "Like what?" 
 
 "Oh dirty. And so dreary. And noisy."
 
 BERYL 83 
 
 Her guardian laughed. " I'm afraid it does. 
 Work is mostly always drab like that. And yon 
 see it has grown like a giant. There there's the 
 giant for your fairy story, my dear. And giants 
 are usually ugly, aren't they?" 
 
 "Yes, always." Robin spoke with conviction. 
 As they rode on she looked back over her shoulder. 
 "I'm glad we can't stop today. This ride has been 
 so lovely that I'd hate to spoil it by seeing the 
 Giant up close." 
 
 "Giants are very powerful. And usually very 
 rich." Cornelius Allendyce enjoyed the fancy. 
 
 "Yes and they crush and kill, too." 
 
 "But didn't a Jack climb something or other and 
 overcome one of them in his lair?" 
 
 At this Robin laughed and then forgot, for the 
 time being, the mills and the dirty houses ; when Mr. 
 Allendyce hoped Mrs. Budge would give them a 
 very big tea party, she realized she was hungrier 
 than she had ever been before. 
 
 So full had been each moment of her first day 
 at Gray Manor that it was not until she sat curled in 
 the big divan before the library fire, a book of colored 
 plates of Italian gardens across her lap that she 
 thought of her determination to know more of the 
 girl who had called herself Beryl. 
 
 Harkness stood at the long table putting it in 
 order. Harkness seemed always moving things
 
 84 RED-ROBIN 
 
 about just so as to put them back in place again 
 
 "Mr. Harkness." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gordon." 
 
 "Do I know everybody here?" 
 
 "Why. I'm sure What do you mean, Miss 
 Gordon?" 
 
 "I saw a young girl last night. And I met her 
 in the hall today. Who's she?" 
 
 "That's a person from the village, Miss Gordon. 
 I don't know as I've heard her name. Budge mostly 
 calls her a piece. I don't think Budge is satisfied 
 with her." 
 
 "You mean she works here?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gordon. At least now. She helps 
 Budge. Budge is getting on, you see. I don't know 
 as I've heard the miss' name. Is there anything 
 more, Miss Gordon?" 
 
 Harkness had a warm heart under his faded 
 livery and it went out now to Robin because she 
 looked very small and very much alone in the big 
 room. He had heard Mrs. Budge's hostile sputter 
 and he knew the lawyer man was going the next 
 day; little Miss Gordon would be quite without 
 friends at Gray Manor. So he stepped closer to the 
 divan and in a very human, friendly way he added : 
 "Excuse me if I'm so bold as to say, you just count 
 on old Harkness if you want anything, missy." 
 
 Robin caught the kindliness in the man's voice. 
 "Oh, thank you, Mr. Harkness. I'll be so glad to
 
 BERYL 85 
 
 have you for a friend. And won't you please call 
 me Robin? You see everyone who's ever liked me 
 real well called me that and it'll make me feel 
 fcomey here." 
 
 "Well, just between us, Miss Robin." And the 
 old man went off with a mysterious smile that even 
 Budge's sour face could not dispel. 
 
 The house was very still. Mr. Allendyce was in 
 his room writing some letters. The early dinner 
 had been over for sometime. Robin wondered what 
 Beryl was doing now and where she was probably 
 upstairs somewhere. 
 
 'Til go and find her!" 
 
 This was more easily said than done for Gray 
 Manor had wiggly wings and corridors turning in 
 every direction and little stairs here and there so that 
 one first went up and then down and then up again. 
 Robin had almost given up her search and had just 
 about decided she was lost, for turn whichever way 
 she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard 
 the harsh, scraping strains of a violin, vibrant with 
 stormy feeling. 
 
 "I'll find that and then maybe it'll be someone 
 who can tell me how to get back to the library," she 
 thought, laughing silently at the ridiculousness of 
 being lost in a house, anyway. 
 
 She traced the music to a turning which led 
 into a narrow hallway. At its end a door stood 
 ajar and from it a light streamed. Robin approached
 
 86 RED-ROBIN 
 
 the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the 
 music, then stood still on its threshold in delighted 
 amazement for the violin player was the girl for 
 whom she was seeking. 
 
 At sight of Robin the girl flung the violin upon 
 the bed. 
 
 "Oh, please don't stop. May I come in? I was 
 hunting for you." 
 
 It was an absurdly small room as compared to the 
 great rooms below, and very bare. There was one 
 chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, at the 
 same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said 
 plainly: "What do you want?" 
 
 Robin ignored her unfriendliness. She sat down 
 on the edge of the bed, close to Beryl. 
 
 "I'm awfully glad I found you," she ventured. 
 "You see you're the only other young person in this 
 house. Though I never had any chums like most 
 girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds 
 and the flowers and the Farri children made it " 
 Robin stopped suddenly for Beryl was staring at her 
 with rude amusement. "I I thought it would be so 
 nice if you and I could be sort of chums," she 
 managed to finish. 
 
 Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shut- 
 ting the violin in its case with an angry little slam. 
 
 "I guess it would be sort of," she mocked. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat 
 furiously; it had taken all the courage she could
 
 BERYL 87 
 
 muster to force her advance upon this girl and 
 Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at 
 Beryl's scornful laugh. 
 
 "Why we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl 
 answered. "You're Gordon Forsyth. And I'm 
 just Beryl Lynch." 
 
 Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of 
 understanding. 
 
 "I don't see " she began but Beryl would not 
 let her go on. Beryl's whole soul went out in resent- 
 ment at what she suspected was "patronizing." "Not 
 me!" she cried in her heart. And aloud: "Oh, you 
 just say you can't see. Why I'm like a servant 
 here. Though I won't be that way long with that old 
 crank as uncivil as she is. Mother didn't want me 
 to do it. But I wanted the money. And I'm going 
 to stick it out, much as I hate it " 
 
 Robin watched the other girl's stormy face in 
 an ecstasy of delight. Here was a creature different 
 from anyone she had ever known; almost her own 
 age, too, full of the fire and spirit and daring which 
 she longed to possess and knew she did not ; beauti- 
 fully straight and tall. 
 
 "I asked old Budge for the place. I heard she 
 wanted someone to help her and it was work anyone 
 could do. Mother felt dreadfully. she said I'd hate 
 it. I don't mind the work but I hate oh, feeling 
 I'm not as good as anyone here. When Mrs. Budge 
 told me to put on a clean uniform ugh, how I hate
 
 88 RED-ROBIN 
 
 those uniforms and go down to the hall to meet 
 you, I told her I wouldn't. She 'most sent me off 
 then and there." 
 
 "You did go, though. I saw you," Robin 
 broke in. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I went but I wouldn't change my dress 
 just to spite her. And I was curious to see the boy 
 they were all making such a fuss about. You just 
 ought to know how upset they were when you came ! 
 Why, old Budge talked as though it were a disgrace 
 for a Forsyth to be a girl. I was glad because it 
 fooled her." Beryl realized suddenly that she was 
 growing friendily confidential. She sharpened her 
 tone. "You'd better go down before the old snoop 
 catches you here." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't talk like that," pleaded 
 Robin. 
 
 "Like what?" 
 
 "Oh, as though we weren't well just girls alike 
 and couldn't be friends. We might have such 
 good times " 
 
 "You are a funny little kid, aren't you? And 
 you certainly don't know how things are run in stiff 
 houses like this. If old Budge could hear you! 
 I don't mind telling you that the old cat keeps saying 
 she's going to watch you to see if you act like a 
 Forsyth. So you'd better not let her hear you ask- 
 ing to be friends with me." 
 
 Robin slowly rose to her feet, two bright s[)ote 
 of color fTaming in her cheeks.
 
 BERYL 89 
 
 "Why, I'll " Her anger died suddenly and a 
 quaint little dignity fell upon her. She straightened 
 her slender figure and held her head very high. 
 "I am a Forsyth and I shall act just as I think a 
 good Forsyth should and not as Mrs. Budge thinks. 
 And please don't think I'm the least bit afraid of 
 this Mrs. Budge." 
 
 Beryl laughed so gleefully at Robin's defiance 
 that Robin joined in with her and the friendship for 
 which she sought sprang into being all because of 
 an unspoken alliance against the hostile housekeeper. 
 
 "I'll go back now if you'll show me the way." 
 
 "They ought to have signs at every turning." 
 
 "Oh, what a funny thought!" And giggling, 
 the two tiptoed through the winding corridors and 
 down the stairs which led to the second floor. 
 
 "I'll see you tomorrow," whispered Robin at 
 parting. 
 
 "It won't do you'll see it won't do!" warned 
 Beryl. "I haven't been in this house two whole 
 clays without knowing what it's like!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 
 
 THE coming of Percival Tubbs to Gray Manor 
 added the one sweet drop to poor Mrs. Budge's cup 
 of bitterness. Though he brought vividly back 
 heartbreaking memories of young Chistopher the 
 Third's school days, when she had waited each day 
 for the lad's boisterous charge upon the kitchen after 
 the "bite" which was his and her little secret, she 
 hoped to find in him an ally. He would see how 
 ridiculous it was to have a Forsyth girl, anyway, and 
 especially a girl who limped around the house like 
 a scared rabbit, afraid to ask for a crumb. If this 
 Gordon had been a boy, as they had planned, an- 
 other comely, happy youth, why, she could have soon 
 learned to love him. But a girl how would she 
 look sitting at Master Christopher's desk, in his 
 chair! Something was all wrong somewhere, but 
 Percival Tubbs would find out and say what's what. 
 
 With this hope strong in her breast she made 
 excuse to go into the Chinese room, for the Chinese 
 room was only separated from the library by heavy 
 curtains through which voices could be easily over- 
 heard. And Harkness had said the lawyer and the 
 tutor were talking in the library. 
 
 Robin's guardian had given much thought to this 
 interview with the tutor. Robin's fate worried him 
 90
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 91 
 
 not a little. He had, in the few days, grown very 
 fond of Robin, and he hated to leave her with 
 Harkness and Budge and this Percival Tubbs, a 
 poor sort of companionship where a fifteen-year-old 
 girl's happiness was concerned. 
 
 "I must make Tubbs see that the child is differ- 
 ent " he was thinking just as Mrs. Budge tiptoed 
 into the Chinese room. 
 
 "Miss Gordon is not like other children and 
 you"ll have to plan your school work a little differ- 
 ently with her," he began, speaking slowly. "She's 
 bright enough and knows much more about some 
 things than most girls her age and nothing at all 
 about others. What I want you to do is to go easy ; 
 easy, that's it. I rather imagine she's always taken 
 a lot on her own shoulders and I don't believe she's 
 ever thought much of herself. If you can develope 
 a little assertiveness in her she'll need it, here " 
 
 "Yes. She'll need it here," echoed the tutor, be- 
 cause he thought he ought to say something. He 
 was a tall, lanky man whose shoulders sagged as 
 though something about them had broken under the 
 strain of being dignified ; his face narrowed from an 
 impressive dome of a forehead to a straggling Van 
 Dyke beard which he always stroked with the fingers 
 of his left hand. He was the old type of school- 
 master whom the rapid forward stride of education 
 had left far behind. His summons to Gray Manor 
 had come rather in the way of a life-saver and he did
 
 92 RED-ROBIN 
 
 not intend to allow the fact that the Forsyth heir 
 had turned out to be a girl, perturb him in the least. 
 And so long as his rooms at the Manor were com- 
 fortable, his food good and his salary certain, he 
 could adapt himself to any fool theory this lawyer 
 guardian might care to advance. 
 
 Mr. Allendyce stared hard at the other, his face 
 wrinkled in his effort to say the right thing. 
 
 "Oh, let her have her head," he finished finally. 
 And he liked that idea so well that he repeated it. 
 "Let her have her head. Do you understand me? 
 Never mind what's in the old schoolbooks. If she'd 
 rather take a walk than study Latin verbs, well, let 
 her. I want her to be happy here happy, that's 
 most important. You've heard of flowers that 
 bloom only in shelter and sunshine? This young- 
 ster isn't unlike " 
 
 "Well, I never! No, I never! . .1 never!" Mrs. 
 Budge's gasp, rising in a crescendo, almost betrayed 
 her presence. She gave a pillow a mighty jab. As 
 though it were not bad enough to bring the girl 
 to the house in the first place without paying a man 
 a fancy price to teach her to have her own way! 
 "Flowers! Humph! Old fools -" Unable to en- 
 dure another word in silence she stalked off to her 
 own quarters. 
 
 In the butler's pantry she found Beryl arranging 
 real flowers in a squatty Bristol glass bowl and hum- 
 ming gaily as she did so. Now Beryl should have 
 been upstairs marking the new linen and she should
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 93 
 
 not be singing as though she owned the whole world. 
 These two transgressions and the sight of the bright 
 blossoms in the girl's hand brought the climax to 
 the old woman's wrath. All Beryl's shortcomings 
 tumbled off her tongue in an incoherent flow of ill- 
 temper. A stormy scene resulted which left the old 
 housekeeper spent and Beryl blazing with indignation. 
 
 Consequently, when poor Robin, depressed from 
 her first hour with the tutor, trying not to feel that 
 Gray Manor was going to be a prison instead of 
 a castle, sought out her new friend she found her 
 throwing her few possessions into a cheap suitcase 
 that lay, opened, across her narrow bed. 
 
 "Oh, what are you doing?" cried Robin in alarm. 
 
 "I'm going that's what. She fired me." 
 
 Robin's first thought upon awaking that morning 
 had been of Beryl; she had suffered the keenest im- 
 patience all through the trying morning, longing 
 to go in search of her new friend. She could not 
 lose her now for a hundred Budges. 
 
 "Oh, I won't let you go !" 
 
 " A lot you could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, 
 tears very close. "I just can't please the old thing. 
 But I hate to go home." She sat down, dolefully, 
 on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to stay until 
 I had earned two hundred dollars." 
 
 Two hundred dollars ! That seemed such a very 
 big amount of money to Robin that she sat silent, 
 thinking about it. 
 
 Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head.
 
 94 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "I s'pose that doesn't mean much to you. But it 
 does to me 'specially when I have to earn it." 
 Then, with a flash of temper : "What do you know 
 about wanting some one thing with all your whole 
 heart and knowing just where you can get it and 
 not having the money?" 
 
 Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out 
 her troubles always brought her a grain of comfort. 
 
 "I've never had a thing in my life that I wanted,'* 
 she finished. 
 
 "Oh, Beryl, I'm so sorry." 
 
 "Sorry! Why, a lucky little thing like you are 
 can't even know what I'm talking about. That's 
 why I said we couldn't be friends. I've had to w r ork 
 at home like a slave ever since I can remember. 
 Pop's sick all the time and cross, and poor mother 
 looks so tired and tries to be so cheerful and brave 
 that your heart aches for her. And even when you're 
 poor, a girl wants things, pretty things and to do 
 things like other girls and work as hard as you can 
 you can't ever seem to reach them. I get just sick 
 of it. I thought if I could get this money " 
 
 "Did you want it for your mother?" broke in 
 Robin, sympathetically. 
 
 Beryl's face flushed redder. "Well, not exactly. 
 That's the way it always is in books, but in life, when 
 you're poor, it's each fellow for himself and there's 
 not any time for your grand sounding self-sacrifice. 
 I wanted it to buy a violin. That thing I've got's
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 95 
 
 nothing but a cheap old fiddle. And I can play I 
 know I can play, or could if I could get a good violin. 
 I took lessons from an old Belgian who lived above 
 us and I played once for Martini at the theatre and 
 he said but what's the use of caring? What's the 
 use of thinking about it? All a girl like me can 
 do is just want big things!" 
 
 "Oh, Beryl," breathed Robin, a tremble on her 
 lips. She wanted very much to make Beryl under- 
 stand that she was not the "lucky thing" Beryl 
 thought her ; that she knew, too, what it was to want 
 something and not to have it, though perhaps she 
 had not known it as cruelly as Beryl had, for Jimmie 
 had always contrived to cover their bleak moments 
 with a makeshift contentment. "Oh, Beryl, honestly 
 I know just how you feel. I wish I could help you. 
 Maybe I can. My allowance seems awfully big and 
 I can't ever spend it all " 
 
 "Well, I'm not a beggar and I'm not hinting for 
 your money" flared Beryl. 
 
 "I didn't mean " Robin began, then faltered. 
 Beryl had spoken with such real anger that she 
 was frightened. Beryl, turning back to her packing, 
 gathered up an armful of clothing on top of which 
 lay an oblong bundle. Its wrappings were old and 
 loose so that as Beryl flounced her burden tow? fd the 
 suitcase, the content of the package slipped out and 
 down to the floor. Robin stared in amazement for 
 there lay a doll in faded satin finery.
 
 o6 RED-ROBIN 
 
 With a short, ashamed laugh, Beryl picked it up. 
 "That old thing," she exclaimed, in half-apology. 
 
 Robin caught her arm. "Wait oh, wait let 
 me see it!" 
 
 "It's just an old doll I've kept." 
 
 "It it looks like my Cynthia. Oh, please just 
 let me look at it. It's like a doll I lost, once, ever 
 so long ago." She examined the pretty clothing. 
 
 Now Beryl stared at Robin as though to find in 
 her face a likeness to the little girl who had deserted 
 her doll. 
 
 "Lost? And I found it in Sheridan Square. 
 A little girl went off and left it. I waited awhile, 
 then I took the doll home." 
 
 "Oh, how funny! How funny! It was me, 
 Beryl. I'd been playing and Mr. Tony called to 
 me to hurry and I forgot and you found it. Why, 
 I cried myself to sleep night after night thinking 
 poor Cynthia was unhappy somewhere." 
 
 "And I called her my orphan doll and loved her 
 because I thought she missed her real mother " 
 
 "She was the loveliest dolly I ever had!" 
 
 "She was the loveliest dolly I ever saw !" 
 
 Both girls burst into a peal of laughter. They 
 sat on the edge of the bed, the doll between them, 
 the packing forgotten. 
 
 Robin clapped her hands. "And to think we find 
 each other now. It's like a story. I went back to 
 the park all alone that evening and would have been
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 97 
 
 iost if it hadn't been for my " she broke off short 
 and flushed. She was going to tell Beryl about her 
 play-prince but then, Beryl might laugh and she did 
 not want that. 
 
 Beryl's face suddenly grew grave as she smoothed 
 out a fold of the doll-garment. 
 
 "I always kept the doll put away. I never 
 played with it because " She hesitated a moment. 
 "That night that I found the doll was a dreadful 
 night. I wasn't quite six but I'll always remember 
 it. At first mother and I were so happy, over find- 
 ing the doll and because Pop had just gotten a raise. 
 It seemed as though everything were going to be 
 wonderful and we felt as rich as could be. We called 
 the doll a lucky doll. And mother dressed me up 
 in her green beads that Father Murphy, back in 
 Ireland, had given her when she told him she was 
 going to marry Pop. And we had dumplings 
 ugh, I've hated dumplings ever since. And then " 
 
 "What happened?" 
 
 "They came for Mom, some man from the hos- 
 pital. Pop had been terribly hurt. And, well 
 nothing's been lucky since. It's just as I said; 
 mother's had to work and Dale's had to work and 
 Pop just sits in a chair and scolds and well, I 
 never wanted to take the doll out when mother could 
 see it after all that." 
 
 Robin made no effort to conceal how deeply 
 Beryl's story had moved her. "Oh, Beryl, I'm so
 
 98 RED-ROBIN 
 
 sorry. But maybe things will change. They'll have 
 to Jimmie always said, it's a long lane that has no 
 turning. I'm so glad it was you who found my 
 Cynthia. It might have been some one who wouldn't 
 have loved her at all." 
 
 "I s'pose you ought to have her now." 
 
 "Oh, no, no. She's yours. Anyway, that 
 doesn't matter," and Robin added triumphantly,, 
 "because we're really truly friends now, no matter 
 what you say. Cynthia has brought us together." 
 
 Beryl shook her head. 
 
 "That old crank " she began. 
 
 Robin stamped her foot in impatience. "I don't 
 care a bit about Mrs. Budge. My guardian told me 
 that I could have anything I wanted here just for the 
 asking and he's made me the silliest big allowance 
 that three girls couldn't spend. Oh, I've a plan ! 
 Ought not a girl like me have a companion? Don't 
 they most always in books? You shall stay here 
 at Gray Manor as my chum." 
 
 Beryl still looked doubtful. "I'm too young " 
 
 "That's just why I want you. Oh, I just can't 
 bear to think of my guardian going away and leaving 
 me here alone. You see I promised myself that I'd 
 be happy while Jimmie's having his chance that's 
 why I came, you know. But this house is so big 
 and so old and Mr. Harkness and Mrs. Budge are 
 so old that I know it's going to be hard not to think 
 of Jimmie and our lovely home and the birds. But
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 99 
 
 if you'd stay it wou*d be easier. Oh, say you will, 
 say you will." 
 
 Beryl stared at Robin with a suspicious scrutiny. 
 She firmly believed that rich people never did any- 
 thing except for themselves and Robin, no doubt, 
 was like all the others. Yet she was such a queer 
 little thing that perhaps she was trying to be "nice" 
 to her and make a soft place for her. And Beryl 
 would not allow that for a moment. 
 
 "You can study with me, too. That Mr. Tubbs 
 isn't so very bad. And we'll read together out of 
 all those books in the library. And play I never 
 kad a real chum because Jimmie thought the girls 
 and boys who went to the school I did, might make 
 fun of my being lame. Poor Jimmie, he always 
 minded my being lame much more than I did because 
 he's an artist and shivers when anything isn't perfect. 
 You shall have a bed in my room there's ever so 
 much space. Oh, say you will." 
 
 Beryl frowned, uncertainly. "I don't want a 
 penny I don't earn. But if I can really do things 
 for you " 
 
 "Oh, of course you can, lots of things. But you 
 shan't wear those uniforms for then you wouldn't' 
 be a girl like me. Oh, we'll have stick fun. Let's 
 take this stuff right down." 
 
 It took the girls only a very little time to transfer 
 Beryl's belongings and to establish them in Robin's 
 room, Beryl working mechanically, unable to believe
 
 ioo RED-ROBIN 
 
 her good fortune. Then, at Robin's command, she 
 followed her while she went in search of her guardian. 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce and Percival Tubbs, sitting 
 in a blue cloud of cigar smoke, were pleasantly dis- 
 cussing the pros and cons of the tariff question upon 
 which they agreed, when Robin interrupted them. 
 
 "Please excuse me, but this is very important." 
 Her breathlessness startled the two men. "I've en- 
 gaged Beryl to be my chum. I I thought I might 
 be lonely here at Gray Manor. I want her to study 
 with me, too. And do everything. This is she." 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce's mouth had dropped open 
 from sheer amazement; suddenly it broadened into 
 a grin. Here was Miss Gordon taking her "head" 
 at once, without so much as one lesson. He glanced 
 at Percival Tubbs but that good gentleman was 
 stroking his silky beard quite indifferently. 
 
 "I'd rather have Beryl than anyone else, 'cause 
 she's almost my own age and we like each other. 
 Shall I tell Mrs. Budge or" 
 
 "Without so much as a by-your-leave !" mur- 
 mured the guardian. He surveyed Beryl ; she seemed 
 like a wholesome, spirited sort and the idea of a little 
 companion for Miss Gordon was not a bad one, not 
 at all strange he hadn't thought of it. 
 
 "Perhaps, Miss Gordon, you'd better tell her 
 yourself. You must begin holding your own, my 
 dear. Don't forget ever, that you are a Forsyth, 
 and that name has great power over Hannah Budge."
 
 ROBIN ASSERTS HERSELF 101 
 
 Robin did not stop to ponder what he meant or 
 why a twinkle shone in his eyes. She rang the bell 
 as her guardian indicated, then waited with a resolute 
 squaring of her small chin, for Harkness' coming. 
 
 "Please, Mr. Harkness, will you bring Mrs. 
 Budge here? There's something I want to tell 
 you both." 
 
 Mrs. Budge, as she hunted out a clean apron, 
 grumbled at the unusual summons. 
 
 "The girl herself, you say?" she asked, as she 
 followed Harkness to the library. 
 
 Her astonishment changed to white wrath when 
 Robin, standing by her guardian's chair, spoke. 
 
 "I wanted to tell you that Beryl Lynch is going 
 to stay here as my companion. I'm going to give 
 her half of my room so that I won't be lonely and 
 please set a place for her next to me at the table." 
 
 Once again Cornelius Allendyce caught the 
 twinkle in the butler's eye which should not be in a 
 Forsyth butler's eye at all. But there was no twinkle 
 about Mrs. Budge ; her cheeks puffed in her effort to 
 speak without strangling. 
 
 "If that piece " she began, but she was quickly 
 interrupted from every side. Both Harkness and 
 Cornelius Allen4yce cried out, the one pleadingly, the 
 other in warning: "Careful, Mrs. Budge." Then 
 Robin stepped forward and slipped her hand through 
 Beryl's arm. 
 
 "Please, Mrs. Budge, I have made Beryl promise
 
 102 RED-ROBIN 
 
 to stay. She didn't want to but I begged her. And 
 if anyone is unkind to her it's just the same as being 
 unkind to me. That is all," she finished grandly, 
 with an imperious little motion of her hand that 
 waved the irate woman from the room before she 
 knew she was moving. 
 
 "Now you can't say as that wasn't like a Forsyth," 
 asserted Harkness, proudly, belowstairs. "If Missy 
 wants a young lydy for a companion, well, she's a 
 right to the kind of young lydy she wants." But 
 Budge had escaped the reach of his voice. 
 
 In the library Cornelius Allendyce was patting 
 Robin on the head. 
 
 "Well, you've won out in the first skirmish, my 
 dear. But keep your weapons at hand."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE LYNCHS 
 
 THE only thing that made the Lynch's cottage 
 any different from the two hundred others at the 
 mills, was that it stood at the end of a dreary row and 
 therefore had a window on the side of its living 
 jroom which overlooked the hills and the river. 
 
 This window was Moira Lynch's delight. Her 
 poor, big Danny could sit in it all day long. And 
 from it she herself could watch the setting sun flame 
 over the crest of the hills and the narrow river shake 
 off its workaday dress and go racing into the shad- 
 ows of the woods. Poor Moira, years of heart- 
 breaking work and worry had not changed her very 
 much from the girl who had liked to lie in the deep 
 sweet grass of her dear Ireland and let her fancy 
 follow the winging birds into a land of dreams. 
 
 The other window of the tiny living room looked 
 out directly upon the muddy road, across to the 
 freight tracks. 
 
 It was to this window that Moira Lynch ran now, 
 peering as far up the road as she could see. 
 
 "Beryl's late today," she said, with an anxious 
 note. 
 
 "Well, what if she is? Things don't run by 
 the clock," Danny Lynch answered testily. "You're 
 
 always fussing. If it isn't the girl it's over Dale." 
 
 163
 
 104 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Mrs. Moira ignored the edge of crossness in her 
 Danny's voice. She went to him, smootlied the 
 spotless cushion at his back and put a fresh magazine 
 
 on his table. 
 
 
 
 "It's a silly, worryin' hen I am," she laughed. 
 (But, oh, her laugh was a tragic thing, for while 
 her lips curved in a smile her eyes shadowed at 
 their mockery). 
 
 "But things seem a bit different, today," she 
 added, apologetically. 
 
 And just as Danny Lynch's retort of derision 
 died away Beryl burst upon them. 
 
 Her mother needed only to give her one look to 
 know that something was different. 
 
 "And what is it, my darlin' ? It's that hungry I 
 was getting to set my eyes on you. Two hours late 
 you are, Beryl." 
 
 Beryl welcomed this reproach as it gave her an 
 opportunity to impart her good news in an impres- 
 sive way. 
 
 "I couldn't get away a minute sooner. I've a 
 new position." She was going to say "job" but it 
 did not seem fitting. 
 
 "What? Without so much as a word to your 
 father and mother? And did the likes of that old 
 housekeeper fire you?" 
 
 Beryl had no intention of telling of her igno- 
 minious fray with Mrs. Budge. 
 
 "I'm engaged to be a companion to Gordon 
 Forsyth!" she answered, grandly.
 
 THE LYNCHS 105 
 
 At this Moira Lynch dropped a spoon with ft 
 loud clatter. 
 
 "A companion to that new boy who's come to 
 the Manor?" 
 
 Beryl, recognizing that her story needed detailed 
 explanation, slipped off her outer wraps, threw them 
 into a chair, kissed her father lightly on his cheek, 
 perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to tell 
 the story of Gordon Forsyth's coming to Gray Manor 
 while her mother listened with breathless interest. 
 
 "And it's a girl she is a little lame girl!" 
 
 "The queerest kid you ever saw. Not a bit 
 snippy or rich acting. She doesn't get at all excited 
 over her new clothes and bossing those old fogeys 
 around and ordering her motor any minute she wants 
 it. She thinks the little place she lived in in New 
 York is lots nicer than Gray Manor. When you 
 look at her you think she's a baby and then when she 
 talks, why she seems older than I am! But she's 
 funny like you, Mom ; she's always pretending things 
 are different from what they are and giving them 
 names. She calls old Budge the wicked woman who 
 wanted to eat the two children," Beryl giggled. 
 "And she calls the Mills a Giant." 
 
 Moira Lynch's face beamed with joyous under- 
 standing. Here was a fellow-soul, "funny" like 
 herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for whom black 
 was always and invariably black, and a spade a spade. 
 
 "Why, she even wanted to come down here with 
 me," Beryl finished.
 
 106 RED-ROBIN 
 
 There were so many questions trembling on 
 Moira's tongue that, for the moment, supper was 
 neglected. Not long, however; the striking of the 
 clock reminded her that in a very few minutes Dale 
 would be home, hungry. Her mission in life, next 
 to tending her big Danny, was feeding her two 
 children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite 
 dessert, a bread pudding, the eggs for which she 
 had carefully hoarded during several days' denial. 
 Beryl, keeping up a running fire of talk, spread the 
 cloth on the centre table and brought the dishes from 
 the cupboard. 
 
 "By'n by, you'll be too fine for the rest of us," 
 broke in big Danny upon their chatter, the usual 
 discordant tone in his voice. 
 
 "Well, I guess it won't be your fault if I am," 
 Beryl flared. "Everything that I've gotten I've got- 
 ten for myself and I don't know of anyone ever trying 
 to help me." 
 
 Like a flash the little mother was between the two, 
 a soothing hand on the father's shoulder. 
 
 "Now don't you two be a-spoiling this night," 
 she laughed a bit hysterically. "Of course our girl's 
 going to be too fine for anyone, but it's always a-lov- 
 ing she'll be to her Dad and her Mommy." She 
 declared it with an ardent triumph. This mother 
 who had once dreamed things for herself dreamed 
 them now for her boy and girl. From Beryl's in- 
 fancy she had taught her to want "fine things. rr
 
 THE LYNCHS 107 
 
 And Beryl wanted them with all her heart and, with 
 youth's selfishness, wanted them for herself, alone. 
 
 After her father's taunt, Beryl, with sullen resent- 
 ment, locked her lips on her other pleasant experi- 
 ences. Nor would she tell now how Robin had 
 written to her guardian to send down a real violin for 
 her to practice upon, or what fun it was to study 
 with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose ears were distract- 
 ingly like Brussels sprouts. And that she learned 
 much, much faster than Robin did ! Poor Robin was 
 always wondering the why of everything. 
 
 Her mother suddenly exclaimed: "It's Father 
 Murphy's beads you shall wear this night, my girl. 
 Didn't the good soul, God rest him, give them with 
 his blessing? Watch the potatoes while I get them." 
 
 Moira's beads had always played a significant 
 part in her life. They marked what she called her 
 "blessings." Without doubt the rare bright spots 
 in her life shone like blessings for the dark of their 
 background. Years ago, when her Danny had had 
 his accident and her world had seemed to turn upside 
 down until it rested, full-weight, upon her poor 
 shoulders, her "blessing" had been Miss Lewis at the 
 settlement. Miss Lewis had given her work so that 
 she could earn money to feed her family ; Miss Lewis 
 had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had found 
 cheaper lodgings and had helped her make them 
 homelike. Another blessing had been Jacques Henri, 
 the old Belgian who lived above them and whose
 
 io8 RED-ROBIN 
 
 violin had attracted Beryl as the magnet draws the 
 iron. A lonely soul, he had found sweet company 
 in the child and had gladly helped the eager fingers. 
 Later he had come down to supper with them and 
 Beryl had played a "piece" for her Pop, wearing the 
 beads in honor of the occasion. When Beryl had 
 graduated from the graded school she had stood as 
 class prophet before an assemblage of fond relatives, 
 among them Dale and herself wearing the green 
 beads. Moira had wished Father Murphy were 
 there to see her girl. 
 
 She clasped them around the girl's neck now with 
 fingers that trembled and eyes bright with the tears 
 which were always close to them. During the little 
 ceremony Dale burst in like a gust of strong, 
 sweet air. 
 
 "Hullo, everybody! M'm'm, something smells 
 good!. What's for tonight, Mom? Salt pork and 
 thick gravy? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. 
 How goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced every- 
 thing and everyone in a rush, from the savory supper 
 to the invalid father whose face had brightened at 
 his coming. 
 
 "What're you getting all dolled up for, Sis?" 
 
 Beryl and her mother tried to tell the story at 
 the same time. Dale did not seem at all impressed 
 and Beryl was disappointed. He said he had heard 
 in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a
 
 THE LYNCHS 109 
 
 girl, and lame, too. He didn't know what difference 
 it made to any of them, anyway. He scowled a 
 little as he said it. 
 
 Dale had his father's strong body and his mother's 
 face of a dreamer ; his eyes were brooding like Beryl's 
 but his mouth was wide and tender and might have 
 seemed weak but for the strength in the square 
 cut jaw. 
 
 Since that time, ten years back, when he had 
 resolutely put behind him his precious ambitions and 
 had taken the first job he could find, he had been the 
 recognized head of the family. As such he turned 
 to Beryl now. 
 
 "I suppose you'll let this rich little girl wipe her 
 feet on you and you'll love it," he said with such 
 scorn that Beryl turned hot and cold in speech- 
 less anger. 
 
 "Now, sonny, now, sonny. Let's wait until we 
 know the poor little thing," begged his mother. 
 
 But for Beryl, except for the fun of wearing 
 the beads, all joy for the moment had fled. She had 
 particularly wanted to impress Dale with her good 
 fortune. She had often, of course, heard Dale speak 
 scathingly and bitterly of the "classes" and the 
 "privileged few" and the unfairness of things in 
 general, but she had paid little attention to it and 
 could not, anyway, connect it with unassuming 
 Robin. When he met Robin, he'd understand and
 
 i io RED-ROBIN 
 
 while Dale ate ravenously and talked to his father 
 between mouthf uls, she planned how she would bring 
 Robin to supper the very next time she came home, 
 despite her vow that she would never let Robin see 
 how humble and small her home was. 
 
 After supper Beryl helped her mother clear away 
 and Dale brought out his "plaything" which was 
 what he laughingly called the contrivance of strings 
 and spools and little wooden wheels he had made 
 and which he and his father "played with" each even- 
 ing. Beryl had often wondered why Dale seemed 
 to care so much about it; why he spent hours and 
 hours drawing and figuring on bits of paper. Of 
 course it amused the father, who, during the day, 
 cut the spools into tiny wheels, with a sharp jack- 
 knife; but it must be stupid for Dale to spend all 
 of his evenings over the silly thing. Beryl often 
 lounged on the back of his chair and listened to 
 discover whether there was any part of the game 
 she might like. 
 
 Tonight Dale's interest seemed forced. 
 
 "If I could just find out what's needed here 
 he growled, touching the delicate contrivance. "That's 
 the way ! While I'm racking my poor old nut, some 
 other fellow's going to make the whole thing out !" 
 
 Danny Lynch's big hand trembled where it lay 
 on the table. "If I had had the learning " he 
 began. "I could help, mebbe."
 
 THE LYNCHS in 
 
 Dale hastened to comfort him. "You don't get 
 that stuff from books, exactly, Pop. It comes here," 
 touching his head. "If I only had the money to have 
 the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use 
 of talking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm 
 thinking about it all the time. Say, Mom, can I 
 bring Adam Kraus over to supper some night ? He 
 said he'd like to meet Pop and he's a good sort." 
 
 This Adam Kraus had only recently come to the 
 Mills. He had at first impressed the neighborhood 
 somewhat unfavorably, for he encouraged a sugges- 
 tion of mystery, lived at the Inn, kept aloof from 
 everyone, and seemed to have no family. Moira's 
 own quick thought of him when Dale had pointed 
 him out on the road in front of the Mill store was 
 that "he looked too white for a working man." But 
 he seemed to have singled Dale out for his advances ; 
 Dale thought he was a good sort and had met him 
 more than half-way ; Dale who had had to work too 
 hard by day and study at night to make any close 
 friendships. Whether she liked him or not, he should 
 have the best she could offer. 
 
 "I'm going to bring Robin I mean, Miss 
 Forsyth, down here the next time / 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.
 
 112 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "And it's a nice pot roast and cabbage salad 
 we'll have, too. And a bit of the fruit cake with 
 real butter sauce." Wasn't she going to get her 
 check soon from the store to which she sent her lace ? 
 
 So Beryl forgot her vexation and Dale his prob- 
 lem with his wooden toy in pleasant anticipation of 
 the "dinner party," as Mrs. Moira grandly called it, 
 out of respect to the pot roast and the fruit cake 
 which Miss Lewis had sent them and which was 
 hidden away in a huge crock in the shed. 
 
 "Mom, can't I take the beads back with me? 
 They're so pretty and I haven't a thing that's nice," 
 begged Beryl as the moment for her to return to 
 the Manor came. 
 
 "The Princess and the Beggar-maid!" laughed 
 Dale. 
 
 "My fine lady must have her jewels!" added 
 big Danny. 
 
 Beryl flushed under their teasing but held her 
 tongue, for didn't she always have that picture blazed 
 in her heart of the moment when with her violin sh^ 
 would hold enthralled her unappreciative family and 
 thousands of others? Then they would not laugh 
 at her! 
 
 "I'll be ever so careful of them and only wear 
 them once in a while," she promised. 
 
 Though Mrs. Moira would, of course, have given 
 her children anything they wanted that was hers,
 
 THE LYNCHS 113 
 
 she hesitated now, not from reluctance to part with 
 her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the 
 silent past came the old father's words: "They are 
 only beads. But they'll remind you of this day." 
 She had been seventeen then a slip of a girl. Beryl 
 was almost sixteen now. 
 
 "The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they 
 are!" she laughed, with a little catch in her voice. 
 ** Of course you shall take them."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 
 
 "WHAT'LL we do today?" 
 
 Beryl asked the question, turning from her post 
 between the curtains of Robin's sitting-room. Not 
 in a tone of complaint did she speak, rather as though 
 weighing which pastime would be most worthy of 
 the unexpected holiday. 
 
 For poor Percival Tubbs had "neuralgy" and 
 could not leave his room; Harkness had told them 
 when he carried in their breakfast. 
 
 "This is just the kind of a day you'd like some- 
 thing to happen," Beryl went on, permitting a sigh 
 to convey how much she would welcome that some- 
 thing. "It's all gray and mysterious. The hills look 
 awfully far away. It's lonesomey." 
 
 Robin looked anxiously to her companion. She 
 did not feel lonesome at all. This room, where they 
 ate their breakfast each morning at Harkness' sug- 
 gestion, was cosy and full of inviting books and 
 pretty pictures and comfy chairs ; Harkness was ever 
 so nice and concerned as to their comfort, they were 
 as secure from Mrs. Budge's hostility as thick walls 
 and Harkness' vigilance could make them and best 
 of all, a letter from her Jimmie, full of Mr. Tony's 
 plans and their contemplated sailing, lay close to 
 her heart. 
 114
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 115 
 
 "What would you like most to do, Beryl?" 
 
 "Oh, let's ask Williams to take us for a long ride 
 i I adore going like the wind," answered Beryl 
 promptly. 
 
 This suggestion appealed to Robin, who, although 
 she didn't like to "go like the wind," never tired of 
 riding among the hills. She went immediately with 
 Beryl to find Williams, the chauffeur. Williams, 
 like the others around the Manor, with the exception 
 of Mrs. Budge, had fallen under Robin's spell and 
 was enjoying the stir that her coming brought to 
 the old house. So he declared, now, that it would be 
 a "nice day for a run" and they could take the 
 Cornwall road, because there was a fellow in Cornwall 
 he ought to see. 
 
 Before the holiday fun could begin Beryl had 
 her "duties" to perform. These were tasks which 
 she had set for herself so that she might not feel 
 for one moment that she was living on Robin's char- 
 ity and were most of them quite unnecessary and 
 little things that Robin would really like to do herself. 
 However Beryl was too proudly intent upon saving 
 her pride to realize this and Robin, instinctively 
 understanding, let her have her way. 
 
 Finally started, the girls snuggled close together 
 in the car, holding hands under the big robe. And, 
 as they sped over the smooth road, each let her 
 thoughts take wings. Beryl's, with the honest self- 
 centredness that was characteristic of her, fluttered
 
 ii6 RED-ROBIN 
 
 about herself. How she looked in this peachy car 
 how she'd love to steer it and just step on the gas 
 and fly ; some day, when she was famous, she'd have 
 a car like this only much bigger and painted yellow 
 and she'd take Mom and Pop out and go through 
 the Mill neighborhood so that that gossipy Mrs. 
 Whaley who had called her "stuck-up" could see her. 
 What she'd do in Robin's shoes, anyway! Why, 
 Robin didn't know what money meant, probably be- 
 cause Robin had never wanted any one big thing, 
 like she did. 
 
 Robin, beside her, sat in cosy contentment 
 mainly because of her precious letter. She drew a 
 mental picture of her Jimmie, sailing away. Then 
 her thoughts came back to the gray hills and she 
 wished her father might see them at that moment, 
 so as to paint them. He would love Wassumsic, 
 she knew but, oh, he would hate the Mills. He 
 would think, as she did, that it was too bad they 
 had built the Mill cottages between the dingy build- 
 ings and the freight yards when they might have 
 built them where each window could have over- 
 looked the climbing fields and woods, where the child- 
 ren could have played in sweet grass the livelong day 
 and built beautiful snow forts when it was winter. 
 
 Beryl suddenly broke the silence by a gleeful 
 "Isn't this fun?" as Williams coasted down a long 
 grade with a breath-catching acceleration of speed. 
 
 The wind had whipped a fine color into the girls'
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 117 
 
 cheeks, the changing scenes about them were of 
 untiring interest; they exclaimed delightedly over 
 each curve and hill in the road, each tiny hamlet 
 through which they passed. All too soon, they 
 reached Cornwall and started on the homeward way. 
 
 At the top of a steep hill Williams slowed down 
 to slip the gear into second. In the valley below 
 them was a collection of unpainted houses, leaning 
 towards one another as though for protection against 
 the growing things about them. 
 
 "The Forgotten Village !" cried Robin. "Don't 
 you feel just as though we might tumble over 
 into it?" 
 
 "A good place to drive right through," Williams 
 answered with a scornful laugh. 
 
 Alas, poor Williams he brought the car skil- 
 fully and safely down the difficult hill only to have it 
 stop, with a reproachful snort, in the very heart of 
 the little village. 
 
 "What's the matter ?"' asked the girls in one 
 breath as Williams, with an explosive exclamation, 
 jumped from his seat. 
 
 There was a moment of investigation, before 
 the man replied. 
 
 "No gas!" 
 
 "Is fforf all?" 
 
 "All ! I'll say that's enough here. Don't look 
 as though anyone'd know what gas is in these parts.
 
 ii8 RED-ROBIN 
 
 You sit in the car while I ask someone, MissForsyth." 
 
 "You wanted something to happen, Beryl," 
 laughed Robin, as Williams walked away. 
 
 "Pooh! This isn't much of an adventure. And 
 I'm awfully hungry." 
 
 Poor Williams returned with the word that he'd 
 have to walk on to the next town unless he was 
 lucky enough to meet someone who'd help him out. 
 He advised the girls waiting in the store. 
 
 "There isn't even a telephone in this dump," 
 he grumbled resentfully, quite forgetting that he 
 had only his own carelessness to blame for the 
 whole thing. 
 
 Neither Robin nor Beryl had the slightest inten- 
 tion of waiting in the funny little store where the 
 crackers and tea and coif ee looked as old as the old 
 man who came out from behind the counter at their 
 approach. They waited until Williams had disap- 
 peared, then went forth to explore the Forgotten 
 Village. Unabashed, they stared at the weather- 
 beaten houses, at the old woman, a faded shawl tied 
 around her head, washing clothes at a pump, at the 
 hideous square of dingy brick which served as school 
 house and church, its window frames stuffed here 
 and there with rags, a pathetic sign upon which was 
 printed "library," hanging crazily by one nail. 
 
 Beyond the church stood an old mill, its roof 
 tumbled in. Exploring it the girls heard the sound
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 119 
 
 of tumbling water and discovered a stream breaking 
 its way through thick undergrowth. A lane, marked 
 by two wagon ruts, edged the course of the stream. 
 
 "Let's see where this goes," suggested Beryl. 
 
 Robin limped willingly after her. It was an allur- 
 ing lane, even in November, for the ghostly gray 
 branches of old trees met and interlocked close over- 
 head, fir trees, mingling with the silver white trunks 
 of slender birches, walled it either side, a whirring 
 of invisible wings added to its apartness and the 
 little stream, tumbling its way, sounded like laughter. 
 
 "Isn't this the loveliest spot ? Wherever do you 
 suppose it comes out?" For the lane twisted and 
 turned as it climbed. 
 
 "Robin, there's a house!" 
 
 Ahead of them the girls could see through the 
 trees the outlines of a low square house. And as 
 they drew nearer, walking stealthily, they stared in 
 amazement. For, unlike its neighbors in the village 
 below, this house was as white as fresh white paint 
 could make it, at the windows hung crisply white 
 curtains, a brass knocker dignified its broad door. 
 
 Robin, always imaginative, clutched Beryl's arm 
 with a breathless giggle. "Beryl, it's like the house 
 of bread and cake with the window panes of sugar. 
 Do you suppose someone will call out: 'Tip-tap, 
 tip-tap, who raps on my door'?" 
 
 "Sh-h! I'm hungry enough to eat the roof. 
 Let's ask for a drink of water so's to see the inside."
 
 120 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Robin did not think it was just nice to deliberately 
 intrude upon the privacy of this shut-away house 
 but Beryl, not waiting for her approval, knocked 
 
 boldly on the heavy old door. 
 
 When the door swung open, however, and a 
 beaked-nosed woman, absurdly like the witch of the 
 fairy story, confronted the girls, Beryl stood tongue- 
 tied and Robin had to come to the rescue. 
 
 "Can we if you please, we had an accident 
 I mean, we went for a walk oh, may we have a 
 drink of water?" she floundered, fairly blinking be- 
 fore the sharply piercing eyes of the woman in 
 the door. 
 
 "Who is it, Brina?" came from within, where- 
 upon the woman answered in rapid German, her head 
 turned backward over her shoulder, her hand still on 
 the doorknob. 
 
 "Shame on you, Brina. They are two children 
 lost, perhaps. Let them come in." 
 
 The room was disappointingly like any other old 
 country-house living room; scrupulously clean and 
 shining, a wide fireplace aglow with a wood fire 
 that cast bright splotches of color over the low walls, 
 the faded rag rugs, the piece-work cushions on the 
 old wooden settle. 
 
 Close to its warmth sat a white-haired woman, 
 one long thin hand supporting her head in such a 
 way as to keep her face in a shadow. 
 
 Robin explained their presence in the lane, inco-
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 121 
 
 herently, for there was something frightening about 
 the silent, composed figure and the intentness with 
 which those shadowed eyes scrutinized her. While 
 Robin talked, Beryl swiftly surveyed the room and 
 its occupants, not least of which was a great St. 
 Bernard dog, that, after one "gr'f'f" leaned against 
 his mistress' chair and regarded the intruders with 
 watchful eyes as though to reserve advances, friendly 
 or hostile. 
 
 Her account finished, Robin smiled bravely back 
 into the grave face, with that enchanting tenderness 
 which had won Cornelius Allendyce and enticed him 
 to strange deeds. 
 
 The smile worked its spell at least on the dog 
 for he moved slowly over to her, lifted a big paw 
 and placed it gravely upon her shoulder. 
 
 "Caesar declares you a friend," said the woman 
 in a slow, low-pitched voice. "He does not welcome 
 many into our seclusion. Please sit down. Brina, 
 bring these young ladies a pitcher of milk and 
 some cookies." 
 
 Brina swung out of the room at her mistress* 
 bidding. Robin, uncomfortable but immensely curi- 
 'ous and excited, sat on the edge of the settle and 
 chattered, while Beryl, well behind their silent hostess, 
 made mysterious signs with ringers and lips and eyes. 
 
 "We think this is the loveliest spot the old town 
 and the mill and this lane and all. No one would 
 ever dream from the road that this house was here.
 
 122 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Has it a name? First I called it the House of Bread 
 and Cake and Sugar like the fairy story, but it 
 ought to be called the House of Rushing Waters, 
 hadn't it?" 
 
 "That will do very nicely. No, no one would 
 know from the road that the house stands here." 
 
 But when Robin ventured: "Aren't you ever 
 lonely?" there was a perceptible tightening of the 
 lips that made her sorry she had asked it. 
 
 "Robin, there's something funny about that whole 
 place," declared Beryl, half-an-hour later as they went 
 back down the lane. "I was doing some thinking 
 wliite you were talking." 
 
 "She's a dear old lady, Beryl. I feel sorry 
 for her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, dear enough. / thought she was 
 stand-offish. But you don't think for a moment 
 she belongs 'round here, in the same town with that 
 old cheese down at the store?" 
 
 Robin admitted that everything about her House 
 of Rushing Waters was very different from the 
 Forgotten Village. 
 
 "Wasn't that Brina just like a witch with her 
 parrot nose and sharp eyes?" 
 
 But Beryl had no patience just now with Robin's 
 beloved fairy lore. Two little lines wrinkled her 
 brow. 
 
 "There's something queer about that place or my
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 123 
 
 name isn't Beryl Lynch. And I like to know what's 
 what. Wouldn't it be fun to find out what it is? 
 Whether she's hiding there on account of something 
 or someone's keeping her a prisoner? Maybe " 
 Beryl lowered her voice, "maybe she's crazy." 
 
 "Oh, Beryl, she didn't act a bit crazy. Just very 
 sad. She was nice. I thought the room was lovely, 
 too and the lunch and that darling dog." Robin 
 had thoroughly enjoyed the simple hospitality and 
 meant to defend it. 
 
 "Of course the room was nice," Beryl felt that 
 she showed much patience with Robin's obtuseness, 
 "but didn't you see anything different in that room? 
 Books and magazines ! Country people don't sit and 
 read magazines and knit on rose wool in the middle 
 of the afternoon! Robin, that woman's a lady! And 
 you notice she didn't tell us who she was. And a 
 woman with her talking some foreign jibberish." 
 
 "Beryl, you're wonderful to notice all these things. 
 I'd never have noticed half of them." 
 
 Beryl tossed her head with pride. "Nothing 
 much escapes me," she boasted. "And I think it was 
 a good thing we didn't tell her just who we were. 
 ,But let's not let a soul know about our finding this 
 place until we unravel the mystery." 
 
 Robin hesitated. "She was so nice to us and it's 
 really none of our business why she's there or who 
 she is " she argued so staunchly that Beryl put in 
 hastily: "Well, let's just have it a secret because
 
 124 RED-ROBIN 
 
 secrets are such fun." And to that Robin agreed 
 gladly, for secrets are fun and are always a strength- 
 ening bond in true friendship. 
 
 "I won't tell a soul!" she promised. 
 
 They found Williams waiting for them at the 
 store, worried at their disappearance and annoyed 
 at the delay. He had walked many miles in payment 
 for his carelessness. 
 
 As they rushed homeward, both girls thought of 
 the house they had left and its lonely occupant. 
 
 "Wouldn't wonder a bit if she might be some 
 royalty person hiding here from anarchists," whis- 
 pered Beryl, with a burst of imagination, amazing 
 for her, tinged by a novel she had recently read. 
 
 "'Would we dare go again to see her?" 
 
 "Of course we're going. Even if you don't, 
 I want to find out who she is and all about her." 
 
 "I'd just like to see her again and that darling 
 dog. If she doesn't want to tell us who she is I don't 
 want her to ! It's more fun to pretend that her house 
 is made of bread and cake and sugar." 
 
 "Pooh!" was Beryl's impatient answer. 
 
 And that evening, as though in defense of her 
 suspicions she thrust a newspaper under Robin's nose 
 with an expressive "There, read that!" at the same 
 time pointing to an inconspicuous paragraph. 
 
 The paragraph told of the mysterious disappear- 
 ance of its Dowager Queen from the little warring 
 Balkan kingdom of Altruria.
 
 LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS 125 
 
 "She could be in this country as well as not. 
 I read a book once where a Duke hid for five years 
 right in the heart of New York and then met his 
 heir face to face on Broadway. Wouldn't it be fun 
 if that old woman was this Dowager Queen?" 
 
 "But, Beryl, she talked English. Wouldn't she 
 talk some other language?" 
 
 Beryl was not to be discouraged. "Dowagers 
 don't. They talk ever so many tongues. English 
 as good as any. I'll bet anything you say. You 
 just wait."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 
 
 THE following Wednesday had been set for Mrs, 
 Lynch's dinner of "pot roast and cabbage salad." 
 
 "You'll think we're awfully poor, Robin, when 
 you see that mean old cottage," Beryl complained as 
 the girls were dressing for the dinner. 
 
 Robin, hesitating between a Madonna blue and 
 a yellow dress, turned quickly at the tone in 
 Beryl's voice. 
 
 "Oh, Beryl, what difference does your house 
 make ! I want to know your mother and your father 
 and Dale." 
 
 "Well, there's no use your dressing up it'll just 
 make everything else there look absurdly shabby." 
 
 Robin laid the garment she held down upon the 
 bed. A puzzled look darkened the glow in her eyes. 
 There were a great many times when she found it 
 difficult to understand Beryl's changing moods. She 
 herself was too indifferent to clothes to know that 
 it was the two pretty gowns she had brought out 
 from her wardrobe that had now sent Beryl into 
 the dumps. 
 
 "I won't dress up, Beryl. I just thought your 
 
 mother would like to have me out of respect to 
 
 her party. I didn't think you wouldn't like it. But 
 
 if you think I'm going down there to stare around 
 
 126
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 127 
 
 at the things in the house and pick to pieces the dishes 
 and the food you're wrong, Beryl. I think your 
 mother must be a wonderful woman and I am just 
 crazy to meet her and I know I'm going to love your 
 father and I never talked to a boy in my whole 
 life except in school when I had to! There !" Robin 
 stopped for very lack of breath. 
 
 This unexpected show of spirit, so unlike Robin's 
 usual gentleness, took Beryl back. Fond as she was 
 of her mother she had never thought of her as exactly 
 "wonderful" or of anyone wanting to know her, or 
 her poor, crippled father, or Dale. She laughed a 
 little shamefacedly. 
 
 "Oh, wear what you want to, Robin. I suppose 
 I'm jealous because I haven't anything except that 
 old gray thing that's just tottering with age. What 
 a joke to call Dale a boy! Why, he's never been 
 a boy, because he's worked so hard for everything." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad I'm going to meet him, anyway." 
 Robin spoke with excitement. It did not matter at 
 all what she wore without a moment's hesitation 
 she put away the blue and the yellow dress and 
 brought forth the mouse colored jersey she had worn 
 when she arrived at Gray Manor she was going 
 to meet Beryl's family. Robin, who had never had 
 any family except "Jimmie," imagined beautiful 
 things of family life, mostly colored by books she 
 had read and pictures she had seen. Brothers were 
 always big strong fellows who sometimes teased their
 
 128 RED-ROBIN 
 
 younger sisters but were always ready with a helping 
 hand ; fathers well, she knew about fathers, having 
 had Jimmie, but Beryl's father must be very different 
 because of his accident. It was "Mom" that she 
 most wanted to know. She hoped Beryl's mother 
 would kiss her. At the thought her heart gave a 
 quick little beat. 
 
 When Percival Tubbs, to whom Harkness, uncer- 
 tain as to the propriety of a Forsyth dining at one 
 of the Mill cottages had appealed, had mildly endeav- 
 ored to point out to Robin that this dinner-party was 
 not exactly "fitting," Robin had simply not been able 
 V> understand and had answered so honestly : "Why, 
 just because I'm a Forsyth doesn't make me a bit 
 better than those people who work in the Mills, does 
 it?" That Mr. Tubbs had abandoned his point with 
 a mental reservation not unlike Mrs. Budge's be- 
 loved: "Things are going to sixes and sevens." 
 
 And below stairs the loyal Harkness, putting off 
 his own doubt, had met Mrs. Budge's scorn of the 
 whole "goings-on" with a grand defense of his little 
 mistress : "Some lydies in 'igh places distribute their 
 bounty in baskets but if Miss Gordon sees fit to carry 
 'ers in her pretty little 'eart, I don't say it's for us 
 to be a thinking it isn't the 'appier way," and Budge 
 knew he was very much in earnest because he forgot 
 his h's, a little trick of speech he had long ago 
 overcome. 
 
 For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress,
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 129 
 
 Beryl brought forth her green beads. Robin ex- 
 claimed over them, taking them out of Beryl's hand 
 to hold them to the light. 
 
 "Oh, they are lovely, Beryl, see the deep glow! 
 They're like the sea. You ought to be proud 
 of them." 
 
 "They're just some beads an old priest gave 
 mother when she was a girl," Beryl explained, mak- 
 ing her voice indifferent. She loved Robin's en- 
 thusiasm but half -suspected it might be "put on" in 
 order to make up to her for the things she did not 
 have. "They do look nice on this dress, though, 
 don't they?" She laid them against her neck and 
 stared with satisfaction at the reflection in the 
 long mirror. 
 
 The Lynch cottage, in honor of the occasion, 
 sparkled with orderliness. Mrs. Moira looked very 
 gay in a pretty foulard she had made over from 
 two of Miss Lewis' old dresses ; her fluttering hands 
 alone betrayed her nervousness and her fears that 
 though the most tempting smells came from the 
 stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little 
 Miss Forsyth and for Dale's new friend, too. 
 
 However, when Robin came into the room with 
 Beryl she looked so appealingly small that Mrs. Lynch 
 promptly forgot she was a Forsyth and that the 
 dinner might not be good enough and put her 
 arms around her and kissed her. And Robin with 
 an impulsive movement snuggled closer to the 
 
 warm embrace. 
 9
 
 130 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Why, it's a mite of a thing you are," cried 
 Mrs. Moira with the singing note in her voice that 
 always came when she was deeply moved. "And 
 hungry, I hope. Well, Dale will be here in a mo- 
 ment and then we'll dish up." 
 
 Then everything was just like Robin had hoped 
 it would be. Beryl's mother called them " children" 
 and let them help her with the finishing touches of 
 the dinner. Beryl's father smiled at her and patted 
 her hand. She did not see the little room with 
 Beryl's eyes, its limited space into which so much 
 had to be crowded, the cracked shade on the lamp, 
 the dingy carpeting that held together through some 
 kind miracle, she only thought it cosy and homey; 
 she liked the queer old clock and the blue bowl filled 
 with artificial jonquils and the crocheted "tidies" 
 with dogs designed in intricate stitches. 
 
 "Here's Dale!" whispered Beryl. "I'm crazy to 
 meet his friend. I'm going to sit next to him at 
 the table, see if I don't." 
 
 In the excitement of Dale's arrival and of intro- 
 ducing the strange "Mr. Kraus" no one noticed Robin 
 for a moment, or that she stared at Dale with round, 
 puzzled eyes. Had she ever seen him before? When 
 Beryl turned suddenly and said : "Dale, this is Gordon 
 Forsyth," she hoped he would say: "Why, I know 
 her." However, he merely mumbled "How do you 
 do," stiffly, and turned away, to Beryl's indignation 
 and Robin's vague disappointment.
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 131 
 
 The pot roast and the cabbage salad were as 
 delicious as Mrs. Moira's loving pains could make 
 them ; Dale's friend talked mostly to big Danny and 
 Mrs. Moira listened and Dale occasionally put in 
 a word. Over her plate Robin watched first one 
 and then another, her eyes invariably coming back 
 to Dale's face. Beryl, annoyed that no one noticed 
 her and Robin and treated them "as though they 
 were just children," ate ravenously, in dignified 
 silence. 
 
 The talk centered about the Mills. Adam Kraus 
 freely ridiculed the Forsyth methods. "They're 
 miles behind the times," he declared and compared 
 them glibly with other similar industries. "Old 
 Norris belongs to the has-beens. Look at the ma- 
 chinery he uses all right in its day, of course. But 
 if a fellow went to him with some new kind of a 
 loom, would he look at it? Not he! The old's 
 good enough." 
 
 "Hear that, Pop?" put in Dale, exchanging a 
 meaning glance with his father. 
 
 "And look at the way they house the mill hands 
 here, putting a fellow like Dale with his cleanness 
 and his brains and his possibilities, into a dump like 
 this. They don't recognize the human element in 
 industries of this sort or what it's worth to them. 
 Why, there's no argument any more as to the in- 
 creased efficiency from giving better living condi- 
 tions but I'll bet Norris hasn't heard of it."
 
 132 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "We haven't been here long enough to know " 
 Mrs. Lynch began gently but Dale interrupted her, 
 his voice rough. 
 
 "It isn't Norris alone, Adam. You've got to go 
 further up it's the House of Forsyth. They're 
 feudal lords or like to think they are. Do you 
 suppose it mattered much up there, when the little 
 Castle girl had her arm crushed in that old wheel 
 last month and died because her body wasn't nour- 
 ished enough to stand under the amputation? A 
 lot they cared just one bit of machinery gone for 
 a day another " 
 
 "Dale " cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed em- 
 barrassment, and suddenly everyone looked at Robin. 
 
 Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and 
 Dale with deep interest. It was not until Mrs. Lynch 
 exclaimed and all eyes turned in her direction that 
 she connected what they were saying with her own 
 self. Under Dale's sudden scrutiny she flushed. 
 
 "I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth." 
 But this was so far from an apology that Mrs. 
 Lynch looked more distressed than before and Beryl 
 glared at her brother. 
 
 "Oh, please don't mind me," begged Robin. She 
 was glad Dale did not say he was sorry for what he 
 had been saying; she wanted to know more. She 
 wanted to tell them that she called the Mills a Giant 
 and that she hated them and that Cornelius Allendyce 
 had told her she should look for a Jack who could
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 133 
 
 climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of the 
 stranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell 
 me all about the the Castle girl ?" 
 
 "There isn't much to tell about her that's different 
 from ninety-nine other cases. She was supporting 
 a younger brother and sister. The brother's only 
 twelve years old but he had to go to work said he 
 was sixteen. The kid sister helps the grandmother 
 as much as she can." 
 
 "Do they live in one of these houses?" 
 
 "In the old village. They're cheaper, you see. 
 The boy can't earn as much as Sarah Castle did and 
 they had to move up the river." 
 
 "Could I go to see them sometime ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch answered for Dale. "Of course you 
 can, dearie. And I'll go with you. It's from my 
 own county they say the grandmother conies and 
 likely she'll know some of the old people." 
 
 "Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep 
 pools reflecting starlight. "I'd like to know every- 
 one here in the village and what they do. Perhaps 
 the the other Forsyths wanted to really know the 
 Mill people, too, only they they've been so unhappy. 
 But I'm different, you see I'm a girl and so sort 
 of little." 
 
 "Bless the warm little heart of her defending 
 her own," thought Mrs. Lynch, and Dale, his face 
 softening until it was boyish, smiled and said : "You 
 ore a little thing, aren't you?"
 
 134 RED-ROBIN 
 
 At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin 
 with such suddenness that a breathless "oh" escaped 
 her parted lips. A dark night and lonely streets, a 
 chill wind cutting her face, an iron fence enclosing 
 a deserted triangle of dead grass and filthy papers 
 a kind voice telling her not to cry of course, her 
 Prince! She peeped almost fearfully at Dale who 
 was joking with Beryl. He did not know he had 
 forgotten, of course. He had been a big boy, then, 
 and he had not gone on playing the little game the 
 way she had. How wonderful, how very wonderful, 
 to find him. And Beryl's brother! She did not 
 mind at all what he had said about the Forsyth's. 
 If he said it, it must be true. She would find out. 
 
 Mrs. Lynch, beaming over her simple dinner, 
 little knew that Destiny sat at her board, shaping, 
 moulding, gathering and weaving the threads of life, 
 golden and drab. 
 
 To Beryl's disgust, after the meal Dale brought 
 forth his "toy." But Adam Kraus, instead of show- 
 ing the boredom which Beryl expected, studied it 
 with absorbed keenness, quickly grasping what Dale 
 wanted to do. 
 
 "Have you ever shown this to Norris?" he asked 
 Dale. 
 
 Dale shook his head. "No use to do it now until 
 I've worked the thing out to perfection. And I can't 
 do that without money. " 
 
 Robin, wiping plates for Mrs. Lynch, caught 
 Dale's words and Adam Kraus' answer.
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 135 
 
 "I wonder if Norris would see what an invention 
 like that if you can make it do what you say you 
 can would be worth to these mills. It would lift 
 them out of the boneyard of antiquity and put them 
 fifty years ahead of their competitors. Why, I'll 
 bet Granger's would give you a cool twenty thousand 
 for that just as it stands. It would serve Norris 
 right, too." 
 
 Dale's face flushed with excitement. "Do you 
 really think all that, Adam? Pop and I've gotten 
 so down in the dumps trying to work the thing out 
 that we've lost our sense of values." 
 
 "Inventors never have any," laughed Kraus, with 
 & change in his voice. And he commenced hastily 
 to talk of other things, to Dale's disappointment 
 
 Robin pulled timidly at Dale's arm. 
 
 "Who's Grangers?" 
 
 "Grangers? Don't you know the big mills up 
 at South Falls?" 
 
 "Would they if they took that you'd go 
 there " She tried desperately to voice the fear that 
 had shaped in her heart ; Grangers taking this funny 
 wooden thing that Mr. Kraus said was worth so 
 much, and Dale going away from Wassumsic, and 
 Dale's mother and Beryl. 
 
 "You just bet I would," and Dale laughed. "But 
 (don't worry, we won't be going for a while." 
 
 Robin had so much to think about that night 
 that she could not go to sleep. She did not want 
 to go to sleep. Up to this day she had been just
 
 136 RED-ROBIN 
 
 little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin," at Gray Manor 
 to let Jimmie have his chance ; happy, because Jimmie 
 was having his chance and Beryl was with her and 
 Beryl was unfailingly interesting. 
 
 Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just 
 "anything." A Forsyth ought to care about those 
 awful Mills, that were in some sort of a "boneyard," 
 and about the people who worked in them espe- 
 cially poor Sarah Castle's brother and sister. And 
 there were probably many other boys and girls. 
 She'd ask Mrs. Lynch or Dale. 
 
 Beryl stirred and Robin ventured to speak. 
 
 "Beryl, are you awake? If Mr. Norris bought 
 that invention of your brother's, would it make things 
 easier for the Mill people?" 
 
 Beryl jerked herself up on her elbow. 
 
 "Red-Robin Forsyth, are you crazy? Fussing 
 over that absurd toy of Dale's at this hour? Why 
 should you care?" Beryl sank back into her pillows 
 and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most 
 glorious eyes?" 
 
 Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, 
 I hated his eyes. They were not true eyes. But 
 I like Dale lots." And just here, for the second 
 time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for 
 Dale must never know that she remembered him; 
 all that belonged to her childhood. Beryl might 
 laugh, too, as she often did at her "fancies," and 
 call her "funny."
 
 POT ROAST AND CABBAGE SALAD 137 
 
 Thinking of Dale brought her thoughts back 
 to the Mills so that while Beryl snuggled her sleepy 
 head back into her pillow, she stared at the thin shaft 
 of light that shone under the door and wished she 
 was big instead of "a little bit of a thing" and very 
 wise so that she would know what to do to show 
 these people in Wassumsic that she a Forsyth, 
 did care.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 
 
 CORNELIUS ALLENDYCE had returned to New 
 York from Gray Manor with his mind pleasantly 
 at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. 
 His associates noticed a certain smugness and 
 satisfaction about him and they often caught him 
 smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling 
 himself together as though his thoughts had been 
 wandering far from fields of law. 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce did feel pleased with himself. 
 How many men would have dared put this thing 
 through the way he had? And how well it had 
 all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her 
 "rest," living in her past, her mind undisturbed, 
 Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little 
 Robin happy in the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, 
 it had all turned out so surprisingly well that he could 
 tuck it away, figuratively speaking, in the steel box 
 in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not 
 want to he liked to think it all over. 
 
 Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a 
 species of the human race of which the lawyer knew 
 little. He supposed that they were all alike pretty, 
 fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves 
 
 like kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He 
 138
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 139 
 
 knew absolutely nothing of the fearless, honest, open- 
 air girls, with hearts and souls as straight and clean 
 as their healthy young bodies or that there were 
 legions like little Robin and Beryl who, because they 
 had been cheated of much that went to the making 
 of these others, stood as a type apart. He only 
 thought as he went over the whole thing that 
 Robin's Jimmie was to blame for her being "differ- 
 ent," leaving her alone so much and letting her take 
 responsibilities way over her head; now she would 
 enjoy the girlish pleasures that were her due. His 
 sister Effie had supplied her with everything in the 
 way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want; 
 Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs 
 would go light with the school work he had cer- 
 tainly made a point of that, and, when he could run 
 up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little 
 companion Robin had adopted. If she were not all 
 that she ought to be (Miss Effie had somewhat dis- 
 turbed him on this point) why, a change could be 
 made ; someone a little older and more cultured (Miss 
 Effie's word) could be sent up from New York. 
 
 Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, en- 
 joyed at intervals in his work, Robin's letter, written 
 a few days after her dinner at Mrs. Lynch's, fell 
 like a bomb. 
 
 "DEAR GUARDIAN," she had begun, 
 
 "I am ever so sorry I haven't written for so long, but 1 
 haven't had a minute, really, truly. There are so many things
 
 140 RED-ROBIN 
 
 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 Harknes? 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
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 141 
 
 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 bone- 
 yard 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, stop- 
 ping at intervals to polish his glasses as though they 
 must be at fault. "What does this mean?" he ex- 
 claimed over and over. "What's up?" 
 
 Why on earth was Robin worrying her little head 
 over the Mills and talking so absurdly about a bone'
 
 142 RED-ROBIN 
 
 yard? And why did she want more money? And 
 who were these people with whom she had dined? 
 And what did she and Beryl want with a club when 
 they had all Gray Manor to play in? 
 
 Not able to answer any of these disturbing ques- 
 tions the poor man sought out Miss Effie who, 
 having been a girl, once, herself, ought to know 
 something of the vagaries of a girl's mind. 
 
 Miss Effie felt very proud that her brother cared 
 anything for her opinion. She nodded wisely and 
 smiled reassuringly. 
 
 "Girl notions that's all. Don't worry over the 
 foibles of growing girls. It's one thing today and 
 something else tomorrow." 
 
 The guardian was not so easily reassured. "But 
 Robin isn't like other girls " he began, with a dis- 
 turbing recollection of Robin's highhandedness in 
 engaging a companion. 
 
 "Tush ! Bosh !" Miss Effie would not let him go 
 on. "Girls are all alike under their skins. This 
 poor kiddie's been starved for nice things and her 
 sudden good fortune's gone to her head. She doesn't 
 know the value of money, either; what'd seem big 
 to her would be carfare for you. Give her more 
 to do. And she ought to know some young folks." 
 
 Now Cornelius Allendyce beamed fondly upon 
 his sister. She had comforted him. Of course, 
 Robin's subconscious self was reaching out to touch 
 the lives of others. In spite of their uncertain living
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 143 
 
 she and Jimmie were of a sociable sort he ought 
 not to have expected that she would be content in 
 Gray Manor with no outside interests. 
 "Couldn't that tutor get up a party?" 
 "That's a good idea, sister. I'll write to Tubbs. 
 Probably the county's expecting something of the 
 sort, anyway. I suppose it ought to be rather simple 
 she's so young and Madame Forsyth being away. 
 I'll raise the child's allowance, too let her spend it 
 if she can, bless her heart." 
 
 His mind once more quite at ease, Cornelius 
 Allendyce put Robin's letter into his pocket. He 
 would write to her the next day and to Percival Tubbs. 
 He ought to have consulted his sister sooner. Well, 
 a guardian learned something new every day, he 
 told himself, with a smile. 
 
 No one had suspected the torment of thought 
 that racked poor Robin's head for the few days fol- 
 lowing the dinner-party. She had arisen that next 
 morning with the firm resolve to "be" a Forsyth, 
 but she did not know just what she ought to do first 
 and there was no one to tell her. Beryl was no more 
 sympathetic than she had been the night before and 
 had answered her persistent questioning absent- 
 mindedly. However, unknowingly, she did give two 
 helpful hints, upon which Robin seized gratefully. 
 
 "Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have
 
 144 RED-ROBIN 
 
 is a clubhouse like Miss Lewis' place in New York. 
 Mother took care of that, you know. Miss Lewis 
 is a wonder. She always declared children need fun 
 just the way they need milk and she fixed it so that 
 they got both." 
 
 "Oh, yes, there are ever so many boys and girls 
 in Wassumsic only they're mostly working in the 
 Mills. I'd have to work there myself only I've made 
 Dale believe that I can do something else. If I 
 ever started in the old Mills I'd be like the others. 
 That's the way you begin and then you never know 
 how to do anything different." 
 
 "I'm glad you're not there. I'm like Dale. I 
 know you'll be a wonderful violinist some day!" 
 Robin never failed to say what Beryl wanted. 
 
 Beryl tossed her head. "I could have just settled 
 down into a drudge, working all day and too tired 
 at night to care what I did and saving just enough 
 out of my pay envelope to buy me a hair-net but I 
 wouldn't begin ! I wouldn't ! They can all call me 
 proud and lazy but I'll show them old Henri Jacques 
 and Martini himself said I would! But I've had to 
 fight to make people believe me and I s'pose I'll 
 have to go on fighting." To the egotism of sixteen 
 years these words sounded very grand; it stirred 
 Beryl to think she had fought for every advantage 
 that was hers, to read the admiration in Robin's 
 eyes. She had no thought of disloyalty in claiming 
 the credit that really belonged to the little mother
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 145 
 
 who had dreamed the dream first for her girl and 
 then, through years of work and self-denial, had lived 
 for that dream to come true. 
 
 After the arrival of the violin Beryl promptly 
 lost herself in a trance of rapture that left Robin to 
 her own pursuits. Only once the quite human 
 thought flashed to her mind that Beryl might be a 
 little bit interested in what she wanted to do but she 
 put it away as unworthy for, she told herself, Beryl, 
 destined one day to stand on a pedestal, could not be 
 expected to bother with such every-day things as 
 planning "fun" for the Mill children. 
 
 So Robin left Beryl with her beloved instrument 
 and went alone to talk to Mrs. Lynch who was so 
 startled at her unexpected coming that she kissed her 
 and called her "little Robin" before she realized what 
 she was doing. That, and the fact that she found 
 Mrs. Lynch working in the shed where big Danny 
 could not hear them, made it much easier for Robin 
 to talk and talk she did, so rapidly and so imploringly 
 that Mrs. Moira had to interject more than once: 
 "Now wait a bit, dearie. What was that again?" 
 
 Robin wanted to know about how many Mill 
 children there were. 
 
 "Oh, bless the heart of you, it's no one but the 
 doctor himself can tell you that! They slip in and 
 out of the world as quiet like. But Mrs. Whaley 
 says the school's so full that her Tommy can only 
 
 go afternoons." 
 10
 
 I 4 6 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Robin remembered Beryl pointing out a dingy 
 brick building as the schoolhouse. It had a play- 
 yard enclosed on three sides with a high board fence, 
 disfigured by much scrawling. It had seemed an ugly 
 spot. She thought of that now. 
 
 "And what do the girls the girls like me do?" 
 
 "Oh, they mostly work. After work? Well, 
 they help at home and do a bit of sewing maybe and 
 some have beaux and they walk down to the drug 
 store and hang around there visiting, though Beryl 
 doesn't. 'Tisn't much of a life a girl in a place like 
 this has," and Mrs. Moira's sigh was happily reminis- 
 cent of her own girlhood in open clean spaces, "it's 
 old they grow before their time." 
 
 ''They don't have much fun, do they?" Robin 
 asked. 
 
 Mrs. Lynch looked at her curiously. "Fun? 
 They work so hard that they haven't the gumption 
 to start the fun. But it's so big the world is, Miss 
 Robin, that it can't all be rosy. Sure, there has to 
 be some dark corners." 
 
 "Mrs. Lynch, if if someone started the fun 
 for the girls would they like it?" 
 
 "Why, what's on your mind, dearie? The likes 
 of you worryin' your little head over things you don't 
 know anything about!" 
 
 Robin could have cried with vexation. She 
 must make Mrs. Lynch understand her Mrs. Lynch
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 147 
 
 was her one hope. She gave a little stamp of her 
 foot as she burst out : "I'm little but that's no reason 
 I can't think of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that 
 the Forsyth's didn't care and they ought to care 
 and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone in the 
 Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they 
 do. And I want them to have fun. Beryl said 
 your Miss Lewis said everyone ought to have fun. 
 I I don't know just how to begin but I'm, 
 going to." 
 
 Mrs. Moira patted her hand. To herself she was 
 saying : "The blessed heart of her, she doesn't even 
 know what she's talking about, poor lamb," but aloud : 
 "That you shall and if I can help you, I will.'* 
 
 Robin's eyes glowed. "Oh, thank you. You 
 don't know how hard it is for me to think just what 
 to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head and 
 then I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about 
 them I just have to feel them. I'd like to begin 
 with the little children. If my guardian says we 
 may, can't we open that old cottage down by the 
 bridge and make it into a a sort of play-house? 
 There could be a play-yard and next spring we could 
 make gardens and we could fix one room up with 
 pretty pictures and have books and games and a 
 fire-place and window-seats. Oh, does that sound 
 silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasm to an abrupt, 
 imploring finish.
 
 148 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Dearie me no." There were no reserves in 
 Mrs. Moira's approval. With an imagination as 
 quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage it was a 
 charming old house, snuggled under elms, half- 
 covered in summer with rambling vines and pink 
 blossoms alive with romping, happy-voiced children, 
 some poring over pretty picture-books, others listen- 
 ing to a story, some working in a garden some 
 just tumbling about on the soft grass in a pure 
 exuberance of youthful joy. 
 
 "We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always 
 think of names before anything else. And maybe, 
 some day, the older girls girls like me will use it, 
 too. I'd like to begin by knowing little Susy Castle." 
 
 Mrs. Lynch promised to take her the next day 
 to the old village where Susy lived. 
 
 "I'll come down right after our school work is 
 over. Beryl won't mind because she'll want to prac- 
 tice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tell Dale, 
 ^rillyou?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already she had 
 been looking forward to telling Dale about Robin 
 and her plans. But Robin stood firm. 
 
 "You see I may spoil everything and he'd think 
 I was just stupid. I don't want him to know yet." 
 
 Robin walked back to the Manor with a light 
 heart. Her world that had always seemed so small, 
 bounded on its every side by Jimmie, now suddenly
 
 ROBIN WRITES A LETTER 149 
 
 assumed limitless proportions and beautiful possi- 
 bilities. There was so much to be done and so much 
 to think about. Tomorrow she would see Susy 
 Castle; maybe other boys and girls. 
 
 Lights were twinkling from some of the windows 
 of the Manor. Robin paused for a moment at the 
 bottom of the long ascent to "love" the Manor in 
 its purple cloak of gathering dusk. That first 
 Forsyth who had broken ground for this gray pile 
 had chosen well; the hill upon which the house had 
 been built stood apart from the other hills, loftily 
 commanding the village and valley. 
 
 "It looks just like a grand old lady holding off 
 her skirts so's not to touch anything," Robin thought, 
 now, whimsically. 
 
 As though to crown her day's progress toward 
 "being " a Forsyth, Robin found a letter from her 
 guardian awaiting her. Cornelius Allendyce had 
 written it keeping in mind his sister's advice not to 
 notice a girl's "foibles" "it's one thing today and 
 another tomorrow." 
 
 " 1 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
 
 i$o RED-ROBIN 
 
 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' 11 do everything I ask when 
 he understands. He's a dear!" 
 
 Beryl came slowly down from her "clouds." 
 
 "Robin listen to this vibrato!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 SUSY CASTLE 
 
 THE Forsyth Mills had built Wassumsic in 
 truth, Wassumsic was the Forsyth's Mills. It had 
 had its beginning in that first small mill where the 
 first Forsyth worked in his shirt-sleeves ; a cluster of 
 houses had sprung up close to the river, a store, more 
 houses, more stores, a tavern, a church, a school. 
 And as the Mills grew, so grew the village. For 
 themselves the Forsyth family had built the stone 
 house on the hill, that looked, indeed, like a grand 
 old woman holding off her skirts from contamination. 
 And that lofty apartness had always been the attitude 
 of the Forsyth family to the workaday life in 
 the village. 
 
 The growth of the village had been toward the 
 railroad so that the first Mill houses had been left 
 by themselves "up the river" and were commonly 
 known as the "old village." They were so old that 
 they were not worth keeping in repair and so close 
 to the river that they were damp the year round 
 and for these very good reasons were offered to the 
 mill workers at a low rental. Many of the mill 
 workers such as Dale looked upon them as a dis- 
 grace to the Mills and felt a hot anger in their 
 hearts when they thought of them but unfortunates 
 like the Castles were glad to move into the worst 
 
 of them. 
 
 151
 
 152 RED-ROBIN 
 
 The short walk from the Mills to the old village 
 skirted the river and was overhung with a double 
 row of willows which, on this wintry day, cast long 
 purple shadows. Robin, walking along it with Mrs. 
 Lynch, thought it lovely and solemn like a cathedral 
 aisle. But when they stopped before a low cottage, 
 one window nailed across with boards where the 
 panes were missing, the front door propped in place 
 by a rotting rail tie, tin cans and frozen refuse litter- 
 ing the strip of yard, and Mrs. Lynch said "This is 
 the house," she wanted to cry out in protest at the 
 ugliness. They had to pick their way around to a 
 back door upon which Mrs. Lynch knocked. Several 
 moments elapsed before the door swung back a little 
 way, a round black eye peered at them cautiously 
 and a shrill voice piped "whachy'want ?" 
 
 "I s'pose that's Susy," thought Robin, her heart 
 skipping a beat with a terror of shyness. 
 
 Mrs. Lynch's pleasant : "We want to see Granny," 
 admitted them. Robin, blinded for the first moment 
 of coming into the darkness of the room from the 
 bright sunshine outside, stumbled over a chair and 
 in her confusion mumbled some incoherent answer 
 to the shrill cackle of welcome that came from the 
 shrunken bit of humanity bending over a small stove. 
 
 "Poor Granny doesn't understand who you are," 
 explained Mrs. Lynch, in an apologetic whisper, 
 touching her head significantly. "Come here, Susy," 
 and she motioned the staring child to her. Susy ap-
 
 SUSY CASTLE 153 
 
 proached with the hang-back step of a child or a dog 
 not always certain of what he may get but Mrs. 
 Lynch magically produced a round cookie, fat with 
 currants, and Susy sprang at her with a quick leap. 
 
 The room was heavy with stale air and bare of 
 any comforts. A tattered First Reader lay on the 
 greasy floor, unwashed dishes cluttered the bare pine 
 table, on every available shelf and in every corner 
 were piled old cans and bottles and half -rilled paper 
 bags. On a what-not in the corner a faded bunch 
 of pink paper roses drooped over a cracked vase. 
 The wallpaper, its ugly pattern mercifully faded, was 
 fantastically streaked from the dampness, in one 
 corner the ceiling plaster had fallen and newspapers 
 had been tacked over the laths to keep out the cold. 
 
 A sickening revulsion, a longing to escape into 
 the sweet crisp air swept Robin. She shrank away 
 into a corner for fear the dreadful old Granny might 
 touch her. But she must say something! She had 
 come here for a purpose to know Susy. 
 
 At that moment Susy's voice pealed out in a 
 merry, piping laugh because she had put her small 
 finger into her cookie and pulled out a fat round 
 currant! And something in the laugh touched the 
 spark to the mothering instinct strong in Robin's 
 young heart the mothering instinct that had caused 
 her bitter anguish over Cynthia's loss, that had 
 taught her how to care for her Jimmie, and had given 
 her strength to run away from her Jimmie that he
 
 154 RED-ROBIN 
 
 might have his "chance." She forgot the dirty sur- 
 roundings, the old Granny in her rags and her crown 
 of wispy gray hail, she saw only the child's face, 
 lightened with joy, ana laughed with Susy as Susy 
 held out the curran r on the end of an uplifted and 
 very dirty finger. 
 
 The ice broken, Susy made friends quickly. She 
 kaned her thin little self against Robin's knee and 
 stared with rapture into Robin's face. Like Granny 
 she could not seem to realize that Robin was a 
 Forsyth; to her she was "a big girl" and big girls 
 did not come to the house now that Sarah had died. 
 She timidly touched Robin's soft coat sleeve with 
 a rough, sticky hand and poked at the bright buttons 
 of Robin's blouse, her eyes round with wonder. 
 
 Afterward, after Robin and Mrs. Lynch had, 
 with some difficulty, broken away from Susy's cling- 
 ing and Granny's childish lamentations, and were 
 walking back through the "cathedral aisle" Robin 
 gave herself a little shake as though to rouse herself 
 from some nightmare. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Lynch, it's dreadful!" 
 
 "What, dearie ?" Mrs. Lynch had been thinking 
 that Granny Castle couldn't be one of the Castle's 
 of her old-country county. 
 
 "That place. Are they all like that? How can 
 they live?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch hesitated a moment and there was a 
 perceptible tightening of her tender lips.
 
 SUSY CASTLE 155 
 
 "Well, dearie, people have to live life goes on 
 in spite of things. Maybe poor old Granny wishes 
 real often it'd been her that had been taken instead 
 of that poor Sarah. Things weren't so bad for them 
 when Sarah lived they say. She was an up-and- 
 doing girl and kept things nice though she had to 
 work hard to do it, poor little thing. It's in the 
 hospital that old woman should be with some one 
 to wait on her and keep her warm. No one but 
 little Susy" 
 
 "I forgot all I'd planned to say! Susy looked 
 so cold, Mrs. Lynch. I hated my nice warm clothes." 
 
 "Oh, Susy was warm enough. She's a bright 
 child, she is. When she's a bit older things will 
 ease up." 
 
 Robin remembered what Beryl had said of the 
 girls in Wassumsic having nothing else to do but 
 go into the Mills. Susy would grow older and take 
 Sarah's place. But what if she didn't want to? 
 What happened to the "big girls" who didn't want 
 to go into the Mills? Robin could hear Beryl's 
 contemptuous: "Why they haven't a chance in the 
 world." Well, anyway, someone could make the 
 Mills so nice that the girls would want to work in 
 them. "I wish I were big!" cried Robin with such 
 passion that Mrs. Lynch, not knowing her train 
 of thought, had a sudden qualm at taking a sen- 
 skive little thing like Miss Robin to poor old 
 Granny Castle's.
 
 156 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Now, dearie, don't you worry. Things come 
 out somehow in the next world maybe for the 
 Granny Castles, but they do. Now that idea of 
 yours of fixing that cottage " 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you! My guardian says I 
 may. At least he said that if I wanted a club, to 
 help myself, and that must mean he consents. He's 
 a dear. Have you time to go there with me now and 
 just peek into it? I'm sure we can get in." 
 
 "I'll take the time," cried Mrs. Moira with an 
 interest as eager as Robin's. "I'll just drop in and 
 tell my Danny when we go past it's so lonesome 
 he gets when I'm slow coming." 
 
 Robin's House of Laughter looked a little de- 
 serted standing alone in the shadow of the hillside, 
 gaunt branches creaking over its low roof, the ends 
 of the trailing vines whipping restlessly against 
 the gray clapboards. But Robin and Mrs. Lynch 
 saw it as they wanted it to be neatly painted, its 
 windows curtained, its yard trimmed, its doorstep 
 dignified by a broad inviting step, and flanked by a 
 trellis for the rambling rose vine. The door opened 
 for them in the most promising way and they tip- 
 toed into a big bare room with two windows at one 
 end looking out over the hills and river. 
 
 "Isn't this nice?" cried Robin in delighted stac- 
 cato. "It's just made for what we want. Look 
 a fireplace !" To be sure, it was nothing more than 
 a gap in the wall. "And these darling windows.
 
 SUSY CASTLE 157 
 
 We can put a seat way across, all comfy." She 
 promptly saw, in her mind, Susy curled upon it with 
 a beautiful picture book and a handful of cookies. 
 "Oh, let's see the rest. Look, a cunning kitchen. 
 The children can play cooking. And this room 
 what can we use this room for?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch was thinking rapidly. Because of 
 her experience with Miss Lewis she saw possibilities 
 way beyond Robin's eager planning class rooms 
 where the older girls could learn other trades a 
 domestic science class in the kitchen for the mothers 
 a sewing room, a library full of instructive and 
 entertaining books, and the big living room where 
 the children could gather after school hours, and 
 the men and women and big boys and girls in the 
 evening. And a playground outside and gardens. 
 
 "Can't we fix it up right away?" Robin's eager 
 questioning brought her sharply out of her dream to 
 a practical realization that all the House of Laughter 
 had as endowment was an unselfish girl's enthusiasm. 
 
 "Harkness will help if I ask him and maybe 
 Williams, too. And Mrs. Williams." 
 
 "It's quite tidy for standing empty so long," 
 mused Mrs. Lynch, sweeping the bare rooms with 
 an appraising eye. "That stove's good as new under 
 the rust." 
 
 "Oh, you will help, won't you? I can't do any- 
 thing without you." 
 
 "That I will, Miss Robin." Mrs. Moira prom-
 
 158 RED-ROBIN 
 
 ised with no thought of the added tax it must be 
 on her energy. "It's a beginning everything has to 
 have and you get your Harkness man and some 
 brooms and some soap and we'll have your little 
 House of Laughter ready to begin in no time." 
 
 A half hour later Robin burst upon Beryl absorbed 
 in her practicing. 
 
 "Oh, please listen," she cried and without waiting 
 for encouragement poured out her precious plans. 
 Beryl obediently listened but with an odd surprise 
 tugging at her attentiveness this Robin seemed dif- 
 ferent, full of a fire that was quite new, and all over 
 fixing up that old place for the Mill kids. To Beryl, 
 wrapped in her own precious ambition, that seemed 
 a ridiculous waste of energy. However she con- 
 cealed her scorn, affected a lively interest and put 
 in a few helpful suggestions. 
 
 "Mr. Tubbs has been hunting for you," she sud- 
 denly informed Robin. "I heard him talking to 
 Harkness about a party. Your guardian's written 
 to him, I guess." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" cried Robin, in dismay. She re- 
 membered what Mr. Allendyc.e had written to her. 
 A party would be terrible ! 
 
 "I should think you'd think it was fun and with 
 all your pretty clothes. It's exciting meeting people, 
 too. If / were you " 
 
 Beryl simply wouldn't finish there were so many 
 things she would do if she were Gordon Forsyth, 
 she could not begin to name them.
 
 SUSY CASTLE 159 
 
 Robin's doleful face betrayed her state of mind. 
 
 "What will I have to do?" 
 
 "That depends upon what kind of a party it is." 
 Beryl felt flattered that Robin should appeal to her. 
 "And I should think you'd have the say. / certainly 
 would. Receptions are stiff and dinners aren't much 
 fun. I think a dance " 
 
 "But I can't dance. And I never went to a young 
 party in my life!" 
 
 "Well, you're Gordon Forsyth, now, and you'll 
 have to do lots of things you never did before," 
 reminded Beryl, a comical sternness edging her voice. 
 
 An hour before, in her empty Plouse of Laughter, 
 poor Robin had thrilled at the thought of "being" 
 a Forsyth; now, alas, her heart sank to her boots 
 under the weight of these new obligations she must 
 face. Nor was she cheered when Mr. Tubbs found 
 her and laid his plans before her. Mr. Tubbs, short 
 of memory, always carried his thoughts on neat little 
 slips of paper over-written with memoranda. He 
 fluttered some of these now before Robin's eyes and 
 Robin saw that they contained lists of names. 
 
 "A party your guardian is quite right we were 
 remiss of course Madame would have wished in 
 the old days it must be at least an at-home yes, an 
 at-home I have found the cards of the best people 
 of the county in Madame's desk Harkness will 
 know who of them have died yes, an at-home, say 
 from four to seven Mr. Allendyce and his sister 
 will come to help you receive I will talk to Budge
 
 160 RED-ROBIN 
 
 yes " Mr. Tubbs rarely finished a sentence. He 
 always spoke as though he were thinking memoranda 
 aloud, and punctuated his words with little tugs at his 
 silky Van Dyke beard. 
 
 Robin had a rebellious impulse to snatch the 
 fluttering lists from his long ringers and tear the 
 "best people of the county" into tiny bits but she 
 remembered what Beryl had said about a Forsyth 
 having to do many things, smothered a sigh, and 
 said meekly: "I don't know much about parties," 
 
 "My dear young lady, experience will teach you. 
 They are important yes, for one of your station 
 important as your books. I will see Budge about 
 the date yes." 
 
 "Old grandmother!" cried Beryl, as Mr. Tubbs 
 went off in search of the housekeeper. "An at-home !" 
 She mimicked his precise tones. "Of all the tiresome 
 things. He'll invite a lot of doddering old women 
 who'll come and look you over this way!" Beryl 
 lifted an imaginary lorgnette to her eyes. "Why 
 didn't you say you'd like a regular party and just 
 have young people there's a boys' school only ten 
 miles from here and it would have been such fun. 
 Of course I couldn't have come down but I could 
 watch you " 
 
 "Beryl Lynch, you are coming down or I won't 
 stir one foot. You shall pick out one of my dresses 
 and we'll make it longer or something. And I think 
 a party with boys I don't know would be lots more
 
 SUSY CASTLE 161 
 
 terrible than an at-home. All I hope is that he makes 
 the date soon so that it will be over with." 
 
 Percival Tubbs, inwardly much annoyed at hav- 
 ing the peaceful routine of his days at the Manor 
 thus disturbed, was as anxious as Robin to have 
 the party over with. After due deliberation with 
 Mrs. Budge he fixed the date for a day two weeks 
 ahead. Mrs. Budge insisted she needed that much 
 time to make "things look like anything." 
 
 Budge and Harkness welcomed the party as a 
 beginning of the "change" they had prayed might 
 come to Gray Manor. 
 
 "It'll be some'at like old times," Harkness had 
 declared. 
 
 "That chit won't look like much," (poor Budge 
 had not yet forgiven Robin for being a girl) "but 
 it'll make talk if she ain't shown. Talk enough for 
 Madame going away like she did. I've half a mind 
 to get out the gold plate. That old Mis' Crosswaithe 
 from Sharon'll be over here the first of any, peeking 
 around and she ain't going to see how things are 
 going to sixes and sevens. No one else ain't either 
 or my name ain't Hannah Budge. It ain't." And 
 Budge squared her shoulders as a challenge to an 
 inquisitive world. 
 
 Harkness, while he anxiously watched the 
 
 weather, grew loquacious over the old times. "This 
 
 house has known great parties, missy," he told Robin. 
 
 "The best lydies from miles 'round coming in their 
 
 11
 
 1 62 RED-ROBIN 
 
 carriages. The Crosswaithes, from Sharon, before 
 old Mr. Crosswaithe died. And the Cullens and the 
 Grangers she as was the daughter of a gov'nor. 
 The Manor was the finest place in the county and 
 things were done right here and as gay as could be." 
 He launched forth on a long description of Christo- 
 pher the Third's eighteenth birthday party. "He 
 come up from school, missy, with his friends and the 
 young lydies come from New York and some from 
 these parts and the house was as gay, what with 
 flowers and palms and music and their talk. And 
 the young master's table was laid in the conservatory 
 and the olders sat in the dining-room and Held 
 come from New York the best caterer, missy " 
 
 Robin and Beryl listened with breathless interest 
 Robin with a moment's vision of that handsome 
 lad laughing and talking with the "young lydies from 
 New York." How dreadful, she thought, that only 
 a few months after that brilliant affair he should 
 have been killed he would have been about twenty- 
 four, now and would have been such a splendid 
 Forsyth, while she was so small and insignificant. 
 
 "These automobiles are all very well, missy, but 
 if it snows " and Harkness scowled through the 
 window at the darkening sky. 
 
 "Do you mean, if it snows no one will come?" 
 
 "I'm not thinking that, missy, but not so many 
 the Grangers and their young people." 
 
 Robin refrained from saying she hoped it would
 
 SUSY CASTLE 163 
 
 snow, for if Harkness and Budge enjoyed fussing 
 over the dreadful party she did not want to spoil 
 their anticipation. 
 
 The entire house seemed ridiculously astir over 
 the approaching event; extra help came from the 
 village, the air throbbed with the hum of vacuum 
 cleaners, chairs and tables were beaten with a fren- 
 zied thoroughness, tables polished, everything dusted. 
 Certainly, no one was going to see that things were 
 going to sixes and sevens ! 
 
 Robin and Beryl busied themselves making over 
 one of Robin's dresses for Beryl, a process to which 
 Beryl consented only after a stormy scene and tears 
 on Robin's part. 
 
 Robin's plans for her House of Laughter had to 
 be tucked away for the time, and when she sighed 
 now and then over her ripping and stitching it was 
 because she'd so much rather be making frilly, crispy 
 curtains for those little windows.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 
 
 BY no means had the girls forgotten their Dowa- 
 ger Queen of Altruria. They talked of her often; 
 Beryl usually in a speculative vein. Had she brought 
 the court jewels with her ? Did that dreadful Brina 
 kneel on one knee and kiss the hem of her garment? 
 Did she ever wear her crown? 
 
 Royalty meant much more to Beryl than it did 
 to Robin, for Beryl attached to it a personal interest. 
 Would she not, as sure as anything, sometime play 
 before crowned heads by royal command? Some- 
 times, lying wide-eyed in the dark, she pictured her- 
 self at such a moment, gorgeously gowned, and 
 delightfully disdainful of the bejeweled, becrowned, 
 stately kings and queens and little princelings, dukes 
 and duchesses and earls and countesses, all hanging on 
 the exquisite notes she drew from her strings. After 
 she finished they would forget their crowns and 
 things and fall upon her in a sort of humble adora- 
 tion. Beryl shivered exquisitely, she could make the 
 picture so very real! Now, when she dreamed, the 
 queens and duchesses looked like the mysterious mis- 
 tress of the house by the Rushing Water. 
 
 Robin thought of their Dowager Queen of Al- 
 truria as perhaps being a little lonely, sometimes. 
 With everyone, now, watching the weather in anxious 
 164
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 165 
 
 dread of a snowstorm, it occurred to her that such 
 a storm would shut the little house near the Rushing 
 Water off from the world. 
 
 "Beryl, let's go and see our Dowager! It may 
 be the last time we can until Spring. I'd like to take 
 her something, too. Something Christmasy. Christ- 
 mas is only two weeks off and think how dreadful 
 to spend Christmas all by yourself." 
 
 Beryl thought both the visit and the gift a fine 
 idea and set her wits to working to contrive an offer- 
 ing suitable for one of the Dowager's station in life. 
 
 She suggested helping themselves to what the 
 Manor had to offer, for, certainly, Robin, being a 
 Forsyth, had such a "right." 
 
 "Flowers and fruit and maybe a book. It would 
 never be missed and you could take one of these that 
 hasn't anything written in the front. See, here's a 
 collection of Dante's poems it's as good as new. 
 And who'd ever want it with all these other 
 books here?" 
 
 Beryl's reasoning seemed logical and Robin put 
 aside a tiny doubt she had as to her right to "help 
 herself" to even a very small volume. Some day she 
 could explain to her Aunt Mathilde that she had given 
 it to a nice old lady who lived all alone. 
 
 The girls filled a huge basket with luscious fruit 
 from Budge's storehouse, and gay flowers from the 
 conservatory, and concealed the little book under the 
 bright foliage. They decided, after much delibcra-
 
 166 RED-ROBIN 
 
 tion, to let Williams into their secret, and show him 
 their offering, so that he would surely consent to 
 drive them to Rushing Waters. 
 
 "We'll just about get it in before the snow 
 comes," agreed Williams, scanning the sky with that 
 anxiety to which Robin had grown very familiar. "A 
 Queen, you say? Well, what do you think of that !" 
 He laughed uproariously. 
 
 "We're not exactly sure, but we have our sus- 
 picions," corrected Beryl in a freezing tone. 
 
 "And please don't tell a soul because we really 
 have no right to force ourselves on her if she wants 
 to hide away," begged Robin. 
 
 Williams promised with a chuckle. "Funny 
 kids," he said to himself, enjoying, nevertheless, the 
 adventure. "I'll do the sleuth stuff in the corner 
 store while you two are interviewing the Duchess 
 I beg pardon, the Queen." 
 
 The girls left Williams, as he suggested, at the 
 little store, while they, tugging their basket between 
 them, found and followed the path by the Rushing 
 Water. It was as alluring as ever berries still clung 
 to the undergrowth, gleaming red against the dark 
 of the fir trees; the dead leaves underfoot crackled 
 softly as though protesting their intrusion; there was 
 a whirring of wings and always the rush of the water. 
 
 "I'd forgotten how spooky it was," cried Beryl, 
 drawing in her breath. 
 
 "I hope she won't be sorry we came." 
 
 This time Robin knocked. As before, Brina
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 167 
 
 opened the door a little way. When she saw the 
 two girls she scowled, but stepped backward, announo 
 ing their presence in crisp German. 
 
 The mistress of the house rose a little hastily 
 from the table before which she was sitting. She 
 was dressed, now, in a warm, trailing robe of soft 
 velvet, a band of ermine circling her neck and cross- 
 ing over her breast, where it was held in place by 
 a brooch of flashing gems. At sight of her visitors 
 her face softened from haughty surprise to a resigned 
 amusement. Robin broke the silence. 
 
 "May we come in? We thought we'd like that 
 maybe you'd like " Oh, it was dreadful to know 
 what to say, when all the time you were thinking she 
 really was a Queen! 
 
 "You have stumbled upon my little house again? 
 Come in and sit down. Brina and I do not often 
 have callers; you must pardon us if, perhaps, we are 
 a little awkward in our hospitality. Caesar, lie down 
 He is glad to see you! I have been looking over a 
 book of colored prints of old cathedrals. Would you 
 like to pull your chairs up to the table and look at 
 them with me ?" 
 
 Beryl blinked knowingly at Robin as much as to 
 say : "Isn't that just what an exiled Queen would 
 t>e doing?" The prints were rare and exceedingly 
 lovely and Robin noticed that they had come from 
 a New York gallery. Their hostess told them of 
 some of the quaint cathedral towns and the stories 
 of the cathedrals themselves. Robin, who had an
 
 1 68 RED-ROBIN 
 
 inherited appreciation of beauty, listened eagerly, 
 putting in now and then a question or a statement of 
 such intelligence that the "Dowager Queen" studied 
 her with interest. 
 
 Beryl, thrilled by the ermine and the gleaming 
 brooch, did not care a fig about the cathedrals but sat 
 back in a rapture of speculation. There seemed 
 something in the stately head with its crown of white 
 hair, vaguely, tantalizingly familiar; she must have 
 seen pictures of the Queen of Altruria somewhere. 
 She watched each gesture and fitted it to her dream. 
 This Queen who seemed really truly friendly now and 
 almost human, might go back some day to Altruria, 
 wherever that was, and of course, when she toured 
 Europe, or maybe even when she was there studying, 
 she could go and stay at the Palace just like a relative. 
 It would be fun to visit in a palace and smile at all 
 the fuss and crowns and things because you were an 
 American and didn't believe in them. 
 
 "Oh, we forgot our basket!" cried Robin, sud- 
 denly darting to the door where Brina had. with a 
 sniff, dropped their precious offering. "We brought 
 these for a Christmas greeting." 
 
 "They are lovely," cried the "Queen" with sincere 
 delight, her eyes drinking in hungrily the beauty of 
 the exotic blossoms for Robin and Beryl had helped 
 themselves to the best the Manor had. "And fruit 
 ah, Brina's heart will rejoice. What is this?" Her 
 slender, shapely hands fussed over the wrappings of 
 the book, while Robin and Beryl watched.
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 169 
 
 "Why " The Queen turned the book over and 
 over, her face bent so that its expression was hidden. 
 The girls' delight gave way, now, to concern the 
 Queen held the book so long and with such curious 
 intentness that they wondered, anxiously, if there 
 were anything about Dante's verses displeasing to 
 a Queen of Altruria. "You never can tell about 
 those jealous kingdoms over there!" Beryl said 
 afterwards. 
 
 After their hostess had "most worn the book out 
 staring at it" she lifted her eyes and fixed a curious 
 gaze upon her visitors. 
 
 "This is a rare little treasure," she said in a queer 
 tone. "And may I not know how it came into your 
 possession and who you are?" 
 
 Robin's heart jumped into her throat. What had 
 they done? It had looked like any book except that 
 the leather of the binding seemed softer than most 
 books and smelled very nice and there were beautiful 
 colored illustrations inside but the Queen said it 
 was a rare book and was wondering where they had 
 gotten it. Perhaps they had helped themselves to the 
 Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked 
 frantically at Beryl, who, guessing her intention, gave 
 violent signs of warning, to which she paid no heed. 
 "Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch 
 who lives with me at the Manor. We took the book 
 from the library there because there are ever and 
 ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely 
 when winter comes and enjoy it"
 
 170 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "You are Robin Forsyth?" The old lady said 
 the words slowly. 
 
 "My real name is Gordon Forsyth, but I've 
 always been called Red-Robin. I'm living at Gray 
 Manor now over in Wassumsic. My father he's 
 not one of the rich Forsyths, you see is an artist 
 and he's travelling with Mr. Tony Earle, who writes, 
 you know. I wish you could come to the Manor." 
 Robin's heart was light now, having, by confession, 
 cleared itself of its moment's dread, and she rattled 
 on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowl and the Queen's 
 searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. Madame 
 Forsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though at least 
 now. She's she's travelling. We have a tutor and 
 I have a guardian who lets me do about what I please. 
 You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I 
 was a boy the Forsyths have always been boys; 
 and it was a dreadful shock, I guess, when my 
 guardian found out I was a girl and such a small 
 girl- and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten 
 that, now. But the housekeeper never will forgive 
 me. And my great-aunt doesn't know, yet. I wish 
 for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome 
 young man like young Christopher Forsyth who died 
 but I can't, so I'm just going to be as good a 
 Forsyth as I can and make up to them all for being 
 a girl." 
 
 "Whom do you mean "them all?" asked the 
 Queen. She had dropped into a chair and turned
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 171 
 
 her head toward the fire, in very much the same 
 attitude she had held upon their first visit. 
 
 Robin, encouraged, squatted on the hearth rug, 
 the big dog beside her, and clasped her hands over 
 her knee. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean just Madame Forsyth and 
 my guardian, though I don't think he cares, now, or 
 that cross old housekeeper; I mean all the Mill 
 people. You see the Mills have grown very fast 
 and there are lots and lots of people working in them, 
 but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent, is very old- 
 fashioned and he'll never improve things." Robin 
 racked her brains to recall Dale's and Adam Kraus' 
 exact words. "He's letting the people live in awful 
 houses and they don't have any fun or or anything. 
 And Dale he's Beryl's brother says they'd work 
 much better if they had everything nice. He says 
 the Forsyths don't care, that they just think of the 
 Mill people as parts of a machine to make money for 
 them, and not as human beings. Why, there was 
 a girl, Sarah Castle " and Robin, her tongue loosed, 
 told eloquently of Sarah Castle and of Susy and 
 Granny and the old cottage "up the river," and then 
 because it made it seem so real to tell about it of her 
 House of Laughter. 
 
 "Of course," she finished, " if I were a boy I 
 could do much more or even if I were big. You 
 see, there's been what Mr. Harkness calls a gloom 
 over the Manor for a long time ; and my great-aunt's
 
 172 RED-ROBIN 
 
 been so sad over that that she couldn't think of any- 
 thing else and maybe I'll be doing something if 
 I just show the Mill people that a Forsyth, even 
 if she's only a girl, does care a little bit. Don't you 
 think so?" 
 
 At her appeal the Dowager Queen turned such a 
 haughty face upon her and answered in such a cold 
 voice : "I'm sure I do not know," that Robin turned 
 crimson with embarrassment. Of course, a Queen 
 could not even be remotely interested in the Manor 
 and the Mills especially if she had to worry over a 
 whole kingdom herself. She had been silly to rattle 
 on the way she had ! 
 
 Brina, quite unknowingly, came to the rescue 
 with a tray of cakes and a pot of cocoa. 
 
 Their hostess, her annoyance put aside, smiled 
 graciously again, and poured the cocoa into little 
 cups while the firelight flashed from the brooch on 
 her dress. Brina went back and forth with heavy 
 tread, sullenly watchful of her mistress* smallest need. 
 The girls sat close to the table upon which still lay 
 the book of cathedral prints and sipped their cocoa 
 and ate their cakes. The wintry sun shone in 
 through the curtained windows, giving the room, with 
 its pale glow, a melancholy cheerfulness. 
 
 "Must you really go?" asked their hostess, po- 
 litely, when, a half -hour later, Robin and Beryl ex- 
 claimed at the lateness of the hour. 
 
 "Why, we never meant to stay so long! It has
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 173 
 
 been so nice." Robin wondered, if she held out her 
 hand, would the Queen take it ? She ventured it with 
 such a shy, appealing movement that the old lady 
 clasped it in hers, then dropped it abruptly, as though 
 annoyed by her own impulsiveness. 
 
 "The afternoon has passed very pleasantly for 
 me." The Queen's voice was measuredly polite. "I 
 thank you for thinking of me in my out-of-the-way 
 corner, and bringing me such lovely gifts." Her 
 eyes turned from the flowers which Brina had put in 
 a squat pewter pitcher to the book which lay on the 
 table. Then she turned to Robin and levelled a 
 glance upon her which held a queer challenge. 
 
 "If you succeed with your what did you call 
 it House of Laughter, let me know, sometime. I 
 shall be most interested in your experiment." 
 
 "Then she was listening," thought Robin, won- 
 dering at the bitter tone in the woman's voice. "May- 
 be she's so lonely and so unhappy she hates to think 
 of laughter." 
 
 "Well, Red- Robin Forsyth, you certainly did siull 
 everything you knew and a lot more besides," cried 
 Beryl, when the two were alone. "As if a Queen 
 cared a fig! I tried to head you off a couple of 
 times." Beryl laughed scornfully. "It was funny!" 
 
 Robin still smarted from her recent embarrass- 
 ment ; she did not relish Beryl's laughing at her. 
 
 "We had to talk about something," she cried in 
 defence.
 
 174 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Well, if you'd given me a chance I'd have talked 
 about things that are happening in Europe. Sort 
 of led her on, you know, so's maybe she'd give herself 
 away. That's what I wanted to find out something 
 about her instead of telling all about ourselves. Here 
 she knows everything about you and you notice she 
 didn't say one word about her^oii ! The whole after- 
 noon's wasted and we might as well not've gone at 
 all. I wanted to get something on her so's maybe 
 some day " Disgusted, Beryl broke off abruptly, 
 quickening her step to show her companion her 
 displeasure. 
 
 Robin limped in silence after her; she had talked 
 too much, the Queen was probably laughing at her 
 now and Beryl was angry and disgusted. 
 
 Beryl forgot her moment's displeasure, however, 
 when Williams imparted to them the "dope" he 
 had on the "Queen-dame," gleaned from the old 
 storekeeper. 
 
 "Old Si says the 'queer party' bought that house 
 off up there last fall suddenly and moved up from 
 somewhere or t'other with a truck load of stuff. 
 The Big-gun, beg pardon, I mean the Queen, came 
 herself, with some sort of a body-guard in an enclosed 
 car, that went away after it'd landed them in the 
 woods. Si's sore, I suppose, because they get 'their 
 vittles sent up from New York' though I don't 
 know as I blame them from what I saw in his store. 
 Says the 'queer party' walks through the village
 
 A GIFT TO THE QUEEN 175 
 
 sometimes, but she's always with her body-guard and 
 a big dog, and wears a heavy veil 'like them furrin' 
 women'." Williams chuckled as he tried to give to 
 his little account the touches Si had put into it. 
 
 Beryl caught Robin's hand in an ecstasy of de- 
 light. "There. That settles it as sure as anything. 
 I'd like to write to somebody in Washington and 
 tell what we know and maybe we'd get a reward. 
 Royalty most always has a price on its head," Beryl 
 finished grandly. 
 
 Robin wanted to protest at the thought of there 
 being a price on that snow-white head, but not cer- 
 tain as to how far she had been restored in Beryl's 
 favor, she refrained, and merely smiled in assent to 
 Beryl's excitement. 
 
 "We've got to hurry back if we beat that cloud 
 yonder," declared Williams, nodding toward a gath- 
 ering bank of dark clouds in the western sky, and 
 the mention of snow brought back to the girls the 
 approaching party. 
 
 It did snow long before Williams reached the 
 Manor, so that the car was covered ; throughout the 
 dinner Harkness went again and again to the window 
 to peer out, always turning back with the worried 
 announcement : "It's still coming down." And at 
 bedtime Robin, peeping out, saw a world blanketed 
 white. Even Mr. Tubbs laid his neuralgic head upon 
 his soft pillow with the regretful thought: "Now; 
 the Grangers cannot come. A pity. Yes."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE PARTY 
 
 THE household at Gray Manor looked upon the 
 heavy fall of snow with varying emotions. Harkness 
 lamented loudly: "It might 'a held off for Missy's 
 party. If it was the old days well, the county 
 lydies could a' come in their sleighs. All right as 
 far as the post road goes, but the Grangers " 
 
 Downstairs Budge rejoiced that the Grangers 
 might not come. "Eyes like a ferret that woman 
 has and like as not she never got over our boy's going. 
 She'd say things was going to sixes and sevens, with 
 a little thing no bigger'n a penny in our boy's shoes 
 she would. But I'd like to know who ever '11 eat all 
 the stuff I'm fixing!" The house cleaned to a fine 
 polish from attic to cellar, Mrs. Budge had turned 
 her attention most generously to the food. 
 
 "Why does everyone care about Mrs. Granger?" 
 asked Robin, of Harkness, when even Percival Tubbs 
 regretted, with a sigh, that Mrs. Granger might not 
 find it possible to come. 
 
 "Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame 
 herself," explained Harkness. "In the old days her 
 people and the Manor people were thick like and vis- 
 ited backward and forward. And there was talk 
 of young Christopher some day marrying the young 
 
 lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tell his death was a sad 
 176
 
 THE PARTY 177 
 
 blow to them. They haven't been coming much to 
 the Manor since, but we laid it to Madame's queer 
 ways and the gloom." 
 
 "Will the others be able to come? Won't Mrs. 
 Budge have lots too much food?" 
 
 "Well, you might say most will make it, for they 
 keep the post roads open. We'll hope for the best, 
 missy," he added, interpreting Robin's anxious ques- 
 tioning as an expression of disappointment. 
 
 But Robin's sudden concern over the party had 
 nothing to do with the coming of Mrs. Granger or 
 anyone else. As she had stood in the window, her 
 nose flattened against the pane, staring out at the 
 snowy slopes, she had been suddenly inspired by a 
 beautiful plan. She turned to Beryl. 
 
 "Can something be sent up from New York in 
 a day?" 
 
 "Depends." Beryl answered shortly. "What?" 
 
 With one of the lightning-like decisions, charac- 
 teristic of her, Robin decided not to take Beryl into 
 her confidence just yet. 
 
 "Oh, I was thinking. Something about my 
 party. I'll tell you later." 
 
 Beryl stared at Robin a little suspiciously Robin 
 looked queer, all-tight-inside, as though she'd made 
 up her mind to do something. It was the new Robin 
 again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell 
 
 After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer 
 
 garments and slipped out of the house while Beryl 
 12
 
 1 78 RED-ROBIN 
 
 was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fully 
 grown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch. 
 
 Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted 
 down Mrs. Budge, whom she found mixing savory 
 concoctions in a huge bowl. 
 
 "M'm, how good things smell," she began, to 
 break down the hostility she saw in Budge's eye, 
 "Is that for the party?" 
 
 " 'S going to be," and Budge stirred more vigor- 
 ously than ever. 
 
 "Mrs. Budge, will there be enough food for 
 some extra ones I've invited or I'm going to 
 invite ?" 
 
 Budge dropped her spoon. "Well, no one ever 
 went hungry in this house," she answered crisply. 
 "May I ask who your guests are?" Budge permitted 
 herself the pleasure of a meaning inflection on 
 the "your." 
 
 "Well, I'm not quite sure yet, only I wanted to 
 know about the food " Robin retreated step by step 
 toward the door, her limp exaggerated by the move- 
 ment. "I'm waiting for word from my guardian." 
 
 "Robin! Humph," Budge flung at the door as 
 it closed upon the girl. "It it wasn't that this house 
 depended on me I'd drop my spoon and walk out 
 this minit, I would, or my name ain't Hannah Budge. 
 Guests! Like as not some of these Mill truck." 
 
 More than the snowstorm threatened the success 
 of Robin's "at-home." For Cornelius Allendyce was
 
 THE PARTY 179 
 
 suddenly prostrated by a bad attack of sciatica. And 
 his sister declared she could not leave him; at such 
 times only her patient and faithful ministrations 
 eased his intense suffering. 
 
 "I'll telephone to Wassumsic right away and don't 
 you worry," she begged of him, "they'll get along 
 somehow or other." 
 
 "They'll have to," the guardian growled, be- 
 tween groans. 
 
 But before Miss Effie could telephone, Robin's 
 telegram came. Cornelius Allendyce opened it with 
 indifferent fingers, read it, then rose upright with 
 such suddenness that a loud cry of pain burst 
 from him. 
 
 "Will you listen to this? That child wants me 
 to express fifty sleds to the Manor, at once ! Read 
 it and see if I've gone crazy." 
 
 "There, there, lie still, Cornelius I don't care 
 if she wants fifty sleds or fifty hundred. Send them 
 to her and wait until you're well to find out if she 
 coasted on all of them or wanted them for kindling 
 wood. There I knew it'd make your pain worse. 
 Wait I'll warm this!" All solicitous, for her 
 brother's face had twisted in agony, the sister dropped 
 the telegram and busied herself over her patient. 
 
 Her advice seemed good. "Well, send them. 
 Tell them to rush the order," he groaned, then gave 
 himself over to his suffering with, somewhere back 
 in his head, the thought that there was quite a bit
 
 i8o RED-ROBIN 
 
 more to being a guardian than he had calculated 
 
 So while Harkness and Budge and Mrs. Williams, 
 pressed into service, made the old Manor festive with 
 flowers and pine boughs, Robin completed the plans 
 for her part of the party, and confided to Beryl 
 that fifty of the Mill youngsters were coming to 
 the Manor to coast on the sloping hillside. 
 
 "Robin Forsyth, what ever will they all say?" 
 
 "Who?" demanded Robin, with aggravating 
 innocence. 
 
 "All the guests. Why, Robin, you're hopeless! 
 You simply can't get it into your head that the 
 Forsyths are different from the Mill people." 
 
 "They're not. And we haven't time to argue 
 now. They're coming a lot of them. Your mother 
 invited them for me through the school teacher 
 you see, there wasn't time for me to, because I didn't 
 know where the younger children lived. My guar- 
 dian has sent on the duckiest sleds all red. Williams 
 brought them up and they're out in the garage. 
 He's going to take charge of my part of the party." 
 
 "Does Budge know?" 
 
 Robin hated to admit that she had been afraid 
 to tell Budge. She flushed ever so slightly. "N-no. 
 At least I told her there were some extra coming. 
 Oh, Beryl, don't act as though you thought every- 
 thing was going to be a failure. I thought as long 
 as there was going to be this stupid old reception 
 here and lots of nice food, it was the only time to
 
 THE PARTY 181 
 
 have a party for the kiddies, for Budge would never 
 cook a crumb if it were just for them. I wish my 
 guardian were here I know he'd understand." 
 
 "Where are they going to eat?" 
 
 "The ladies? Oh, the children. I've told 
 Harkness to put a table in the conservatory and make 
 it Christmasy." 
 
 "You're clever, Robin. Harkness will do it for 
 you but, oh, he'll hate it; I can hear him 'things 
 aren't like they used to be.' As my father'd say 
 you're killing the goose that lays the golden egg, all 
 righto. Budge will tell Madame, sure's anything." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Robin quietly, a 
 little gleam in her eyes. 
 
 "Why, stupid, the Forsyths aren't going to stand 
 for that sort of thing. They'll send you back " 
 
 "Beryl, do you think I'm staying here for the 
 Forsyth money or or care about it ? I came here 
 so that Jimmie could go away without worrying 
 about me. When he comes home I shall go back 
 to him, of course." 
 
 "Leave Gray Manor?" Beryl's voice rang 
 incredulously. 
 
 "Of course. I like it here and there are lots of 
 things I want to do, but when Jimmie comes back 
 if he wants me " her voice trembled. 
 
 Beryl stared at Robin as though she saw a strange 
 creature in the familiar guise. "You are the queerest 
 girl. You don't seem to care for the things money
 
 182 RED-ROBIN 
 
 can get for you!" She had to pause, to pick her 
 words. "Why, if 7 had the chance all the advan- 
 tages, and taking lovely trips, and the fun. You 
 could go to one of these girls' schools and play tennis 
 and golf and ride horseback! And always have 
 pretty clothes!" The bitter edge to Beryl's voice be- 
 trayed how much she would like these things. 
 
 "Would you desert your mother and and Dale 
 for things like that? Would you?" 
 
 In her relentless dreaming, in her sturdy ambi- 
 tions, Beryl had never put such a question to herself. 
 She had simply never seen them in her picture. She 
 evaded a direct answer now. 
 
 "They'd want me to!" 
 
 "Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are 
 like that. Just unselfish. But you wouldn't give 
 your mother up for anything. I know you wouldn't." 
 
 Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. 
 In her innermost heart an honest heart it was 
 she was not quite sure; her life had been different 
 from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things 
 and go straight for them; so had Dale. If getting 
 them meant sacrificing sentiment well, she'd do it. 
 So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thought Dale 
 perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand 
 because Robin had never wanted anything big 
 Beryl always fell back upon this comforting thought. 
 
 "Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't 
 get so interested in your kids that you forget Mrs.
 
 THE PARTY 183 
 
 Granger. She is coming they telephoned that the 
 road is open." 
 
 Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of 
 Beryl's head to show her that, no matter how much 
 they disagreed, they were good friends, and went 
 off in search of Harkness. 
 
 The appointed hour for the reception found the 
 Manor and its servants ready. With myriad lights, 
 gleaming from candles and chandeliers, reflecting in 
 the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and 
 bronze, the air sweet with the scent of pine and 
 flowers, the old Manor had something of the brill- 
 iancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the 
 old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help 
 from the village with a dour and suspicious eye and 
 Harkness, dignified in his faded livery, made the 
 "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as 
 he could, with a heart heavy with doubt as to the 
 "fitness" of Missy's whims. 
 
 Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very 
 small in the stately drawing room. There Percival 
 Tubbs patiently explained, for the hundredth time, 
 with just what words she must greet her guests, as 
 Harkness announced them ; and Robin listened duti- 
 fully, with her thoughts on the hillside beyond the 
 long windows where already red sleds were flying up 
 and down the snowy slope and childish voices were 
 lifting in glee.
 
 184 RED-ROBIN 
 
 True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Cross- 
 waithe, from Sharon, arrived first. Robin saw 
 masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened 
 face somewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot 
 Mr. Tubbs' careful teaching, said "I'm pleased to 
 know you," instead, and held out her hand to the 
 tall, thin, mannishly dressed young woman behind 
 Mrs. Crosswaithe, who, though Robin did not know 
 it, was Mrs. Crosswaithe's daughter. 
 
 For an hour the guests arrived in as steady a 
 stream as their high-powered cars could carry them 
 through the heavy roads. The Manor had not been 
 opened like this for years and the "best people in the 
 county" took advantage of the opportunity to look 
 for signs of failing fortunes, to see the "girl" who 
 had come to the Manor, and to find out just where 
 Madame was travelling. Thanks to Budge's heroic 
 work no one discovered any sign of change in the old 
 house; their questioning only met with disappoint- 
 ment, and Budge's food was of much more interest 
 than the young heiress who, they decided, was a 
 pretty little thing but much too small for her age. 
 
 Robin shook hands until her arm ached, mumbled 
 the wrong thing most of the time which, however, 
 did not seem to make any difference with anyone, 
 and kept one eye longingly on the window, and one 
 ear listening for the shouts outside which were grow- 
 ing louder and louder. She seized an opportunity to 
 go to the window and watch, so that when the great
 
 THE PARTY 185 
 
 Mrs. Granger arrived Mr. Tubbs had to, a little 
 sharply, recall her to her duty. 
 
 "Isn't she awful?" whispered Robin to Beryl, 
 as Mrs. Granger, after condescendingly patting 
 Robin's hand, swept on. 
 
 "She thinks she's so grand, but she ought to see 
 the Queen!" Which observation would have en- 
 raged Mrs. Granger, had she heard it, for she had 
 felt particular satisfaction in her dress and hat, sent 
 on, only the day before, from the most expensive 
 shop in New York. 
 
 "Miss Alicia didn't come she's in California. 
 Say, Robin, there's a Granger boy, 'bout eighteen. 
 Maybe that's why my lady Granger's so sweet 
 to you." 
 
 "Silly!" Robin flung at Beryl in retort. "Oh, 
 dear, can't I go out to my own guests now?" 
 
 Robin and Williams had planned that the children 
 should be admitted to the conservatory through a 
 side door, leaving their outer garments in a vestibule, 
 So, when everything was in readiness for them, 
 Harkness gave the sign, and Williams herded his 
 noisy troupe to the house. 
 
 Many of the older guests had been present at 
 that memorable birthday party on young Christopher's 
 eighteenth birthday and they recalled now, over their 
 salad plates, the brilliancy of that affair and touched 
 upon all that had happened since in the way of change. 
 Mrs. Granger displayed much emotion.
 
 i86 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "That made a picture I will never forget!" and 
 she nodded toward the glass doors, curtained in soft 
 silk, which led from the dining room to the conserva- 
 tory and which Harkness had carefully closed. "I 
 wonder if I might just peep in? Ah, the memories. 
 My dear Alicia and that handsome boy " she touched 
 a lacy handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 Several who had overheard her followed Mrs. 
 Granger to the closed doors and stood behind her as 
 she opened them. And their eyes beheld a sight so 
 different from that birthday party that they stepped 
 back in amazement, Mrs. Granger lifting her lorgnette 
 in trembling fingers. 
 
 Youngsters of every size and of every degree of 
 greed crowded around the long table, the "Christ- 
 masy" decoration of which had already been pulled 
 to pieces by eager reaching hands. Faces, still red 
 from the crisp air and streaked where dirty coat 
 sleeves had rubbed them, beamed across the heaping 
 plates, busy fingers crammed away the goodies. 
 One small boy half -lay across the table ; another stood 
 in his chair, his frayed woolen cap set rakishly back 
 and over one ear. On each excited countenance a 
 shadow of suspicion mingled with the joy, a fear 
 that the same magic which had brought it might 
 snatch all this strange and lovely fun away. Harkness 
 watched at one end of the table, Williams at another. 
 And in their midst sat Robin. 
 
 "Well, I never!" murmured Mrs. Granger. Her
 
 THE PARTY 187 
 
 exclamation was drowned, however, in the babble of 
 youthful sound let loose upon the "best people of the 
 County" by the opening of the door. "Miss Gordon 
 is going in for the pretty charity thing, is she?" 
 
 All might have gone well even then for Harkness 
 had a stern eye on everyone of Robin's small guests 
 had not little Susy seen her beloved "big girl" slip 
 through the group at the big glass doors. Susy was 
 the youngest of the children there; she did not go 
 to school regularly enough to feel at home with the 
 others, she had refused to slide, and, at the table had 
 not really begun to enjoy herself until Robin had 
 sat down next to her, put her arm around her and 
 coaxed her to eat the food on the plate before her. 
 The food had turned out to be very good and Susy 
 had crammed it down with her fingers, regardless 
 of fork or spoon. Now her "big girl" had slipped 
 away, she was alone, that man at the end was staring 
 at her, panic seized her, a mad longing to escape, 
 anywhere preferably back to the shelter of the "big 
 girl's" friendly arm. She slid down from her seat, 
 her eyes wildly sweeping the room; Harkness, like 
 an ogre, guarded one end of the table, Williams' 
 bulk stood between her and the outer door ; there was 
 only the one way, through the glass doors. Head 
 down, she ran swiftly the length of the conservatory 
 and bolted into the little group of people watching 
 from the dining room door. Someone big blocked 
 her way. With frightened hands she pushed at her.
 
 188 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Want Granny! Want Granny! Get 'way! 
 fJh-h-h!" 
 
 "The dreadful little thing!" someone said. 
 
 Robin, hearing the shrill cry, rushed to the rescue, 
 and, kneeling, gathered poor weeping Susy into a 
 close embrace. Over the child's tousled head she 
 smiled nervously at her staring guests. 
 
 "Poor little thing, she's shy!" Then, feeling 
 Susy quivering in her clasp, she whispered some- 
 thing magical in her ears. It was only: "Robin 
 will keep tight hold of your hand, Susy-girl, and 
 you needn't be a bit frightened and by and by, if 
 you're quiet, we'll fill a bag of goodies for your 
 brother and Granny." But it soothed Susy at once, 
 and, clinging to Robin's hand, she stared at the guests 
 from the shelter of Robin's skirts. 
 
 There was a little stir among the "best people 
 of the County" a renewal of the chatter, high- 
 pitched, pleasant nothings, and side remarks, in 
 careful undertones. 
 
 "Certainly, not a bit like a Forsyth." 
 
 "I rather think Madame doesn't know what is 
 going on here." 
 
 "Fancy entertaining these little persons and Mrs. 
 Granger with the same spoon, so to speak." 
 
 And, in a corner, Mrs. Granger was raging over 
 the damaging imprint of two sticky hands on the 
 delicate fabric of her costly gown. For her's had 
 been the bulk that had stood between Susy and her
 
 THE PARTY 189 
 
 "big girl," and Susy had been eating chocolate marsh- 
 mallow cake with both hands! 
 
 Mrs. Granger had come to Gray Manor with 
 fhe intention of coaxing Miss Gordon to spend 
 Christmas at Wyckham, the Granger home. But, 
 aa she made ineffectual dabs at the greasy spots on 
 'aer skirt with her silly little handkerchief, she put 
 such a thought quite away from her mind. 
 
 "Brat !" she cried under her breath, angrily, and 
 from the way she glared at Robin and Susy no one 
 could have told which of the two she meant.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 
 
 CHRISTMAS without Jimmie was, for Robin, a 
 thing not to think about. And from Beryl, inasmuch 
 as that young lady affected a stoical indifference to 
 the holiday, she could get little sympathy. Beryl had 
 shocked her with the heresy : "Christmas is just for 
 rich people, anyway." 
 
 "It is not. Oh, it isn't," Robin had cried in 
 remonstrance. But she could not tell of her and 
 Jimmie's happy Christ-days without giving way to 
 the tears which, at the thought, scalded the backs of 
 her eyes. It had not been alone the holly and pine 
 of the shop windows, or the simple gifts Jimmie's 
 loyal and more fortunate friends brought, or the 
 usual merry feast that had made them happy; it 
 had been a deep and beautiful understanding of the 
 Infinite Love that had given the Christ-child io the 
 world, that Love which surpassed even Jimmie s love 
 for her or hers for Jimmie, and that was hers and 
 everyone elses. She had felt it first when, a very 
 little girl, she had gone, once, with Jimmie into the 
 purple shadows of a great church, where the air was 
 sweet with incense and vibrating with the muted 
 notes of an organ. She had stood with Jimmie 
 before a little cradle that had seemed beautiful with 
 gold and precious colors but, when she looked again, 
 was a humble thing of wood and straw, and what 
 190
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 191 
 
 she had thought so bright was the radiance of candles 
 and the reflection from the many-colored windows. 
 Then she had looked at the cradle more closely and 
 had found that it held a beautiful wax babe. When 
 Jimmie tugged at her hand she had reluctantly turned 
 away. At the same time a shabby old woman and a 
 little boy, who had been kneeling nearby, arose, and 
 the old woman and the little boy had smiled at her 
 a different smile and she had smiled back. On the 
 way home Jimmie had explained to her that the Gift 
 of the Christ-child was the great universal gift and 
 belonged to everyone, the world over. She knew, 
 then, why the shabby old woman had smiled it 
 was over the Gift they shared. 
 
 "Christmas is for everybody," she finished. 
 
 "Well, all it means to me now that I'm big," 
 pursued Beryl, "is stores full of lovely things and 
 crowded with people lucky enough to have money 
 to buy them. And talking about how much every- 
 thing is. I heard a woman once saying she had to 
 spend five dollars on her aunt because her aunt always 
 spent five dollars on her. That's why I say Christ- 
 mas is for the rich it's a sort of general exchange 
 and take it back if you don't like it or have half 
 a dozen like 'em, or put it away and send it to some 
 one next Christmas. Miss Lewis, at the Settlement 
 where mother worked, gave a book to a lady one 
 Christmas and got it back the next, and the leaves 
 weren't even cut."
 
 192 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Robin laughed in spite of her disapproval of 
 Beryl's heresy. "There are different kinds of 
 Christmases, Beryl, and I'll show you," she protested, 
 then and there vowing to make the Christmas at the 
 Manor a merry one, in spite of odds. 
 
 "Well, the nicest thing / know that's going to 
 happen is that Rub-a-dub-dub is going home," 
 retorted Beryl. 
 
 "That is nice, but there'll be even nicer things. 
 Let's invite your mother and Dale for dinner and 
 have a little tree and we'll make all sorts of foolish 
 things to put on it." 
 
 To Beryl this did not sound at all exciting but 
 Robin loved the thought of sitting with Mrs. Lynch 
 and Dale and Beryl, like one happy family, around 
 the long table. She'd ask Harkness to cut pine 
 boughs and a nice smelly tree, which she and Beryl 
 would adorn with gifts that had no more value than 
 a good laugh. 
 
 And she would coax Harkness to get Williams 
 and his nice wife to help open and clean the House 
 of Laughter. She'd like to have it a Christmas gift 
 from her to the Mill children. 
 
 She found Harkness ready for her wildest sug- 
 gestion. He had confided to Williams and Mrs. 
 Budge that he felt sorry for little Missy alone in the 
 big house on Christmas. 
 
 "A lot of pine and holly, Missy, and the old place 
 won't look the same. A tree of course there'M
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 193 
 
 be a tree! Whoever heard zf Christmas without 
 a tree. Many's the one I've cut with the young 
 master; he'd have no one but Harkness do it, for he 
 said I always found the best trees." 
 
 But the old man's head began to whirl a little 
 when Robin explained about the House of Laughter 
 and the dinner that must be "different." She 
 had to tell him again and again, until her tone 
 grew pleading. 
 
 "I'll help you, Missy, only I'm a little slow just 
 understanding. It'll come, though, it'll come. 
 Williams will give a hand and his wife maybe, and 
 I'll tell Mrs. Budge about the Christmas cakes and 
 things. It'll be as merry a Christmas as old 
 Harkness can make it, Missy." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Harkness, you're a dear," Robin cried, 
 with a look that made the old man's heart almost 
 burst with affection. 
 
 "But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than 
 she has to know," he thought, as he went off to do 
 Robin's bidding. 
 
 With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, 
 who had married the telegraph operator at the little 
 station, pressed into the work, the empty cottage 
 at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Win- 
 dows were opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in 
 the sweet cold air; under the magic of strong soap 
 and good muscle the old wood- work shone with 
 
 cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy. 
 13
 
 194 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Harkness and Williams hauled down a load of wood 
 and piled it high by the back door ; Mrs. Lynch trans- 
 formed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, 
 eager thing. 
 
 Williams, who was very clever and would have 
 been a carpenter if he hadn't been a chauffeur, built 
 tables out of rough boards and, in the living room, 
 put up shelves for books and the window seat 
 Robin wanted. 
 
 Robin and Beryl flew about in everyone's way, 
 eager to help and generous with advice. 
 
 "There, I'd say things were pretty nice," ex- 
 claimed Williams, at the end of the sixth day of 
 work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction the 
 chair he had made out of "odds and ends." 
 
 "But it doesn't look like what we want yet!" 
 Robin glanced about dolefully. "It needs such a lot 
 to make it homey. Where'll we ever get it all?" 
 
 "Now, Miss Robin, Rome wasn't built in a day, 
 as I ever heard of," protested Harkness, a smudge 
 over his nose and two long nails between his teeth. 
 "I guess there's truck enough in the attic up there 
 at the Manor to fill this house and a dozen like it." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Harkness, may we use it? Or just 
 borrow it until my aunt returns? Can we?" 
 
 Harkness exchanged glances with Williams. 
 Harkness knew that it had long been Mrs. Budge's 
 custom to make a two day trip to New York during 
 the week preceding Christmas. They could take 
 advantage of her absence.
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 195 
 
 "Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, 
 to do." And no one thought of smiling at his "we" 
 for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or she had a 
 share in Robin's House of Laughter. 
 
 But even stripping the Manor attic of its "truck" 
 did not satisfy Robin and the day before Christmas 
 found her House of Laughter lacking in the things 
 she wanted most. 
 
 "It ought to have jolly pictures and ever so many 
 books and pillows and nice, frilly curtains," she 
 mourned, wondering how much they would cost 
 and how she could ever get them. 
 
 On Christmas morning, Harkness dragged to 
 Robin's door a box of gifts from her guardian. 
 Most of them Miss Effie had selected, as poor 
 Cornelius Allendyce was still confined to his room, 
 and that good-hearted woman had, with a burst of 
 real Christmas spirit, simply duplicated each gift, 
 for, though she wasn't at all sure, yet, that this 
 "companion" of Robin's choosing was the refined 
 sort Robin ought to have, nevertheless she was a girl 
 like Robin and Christmas was Christmas. Beryl ap- 
 preciated the thought fulness more than she could 
 express and when she found a little book entitled 
 "Old Violins" and only one, she hugged it to her with 
 a rush of happy feeling. 
 
 Later in the morning Mrs. Granger's chauffeur 
 arrived with a great box of bon-bons in queer shapes 
 and colors. Neither Robin nor Beryl had ever seen 
 anything quite so extravagantly contrived.
 
 196 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "She paid a fortune for that," declared Beryl, 
 appraisingly. "She must have forgiven Susy for 
 spoiling her dress. Or maybe she's thinking of her 
 son again. Let me read the card. "Hoping you will 
 coax that nice Mr. Tubbs to bring you to us before 
 my youngsters go back to school " Didn't I tell 
 you, Robin?" 
 
 "I won't go," Robin answered briefly, pushing 
 box and card away with a gesture that disposed of 
 Mrs. Granger and her son. "Now we must trim 
 the tree." 
 
 Harkness, true to his boast, had found quite the 
 straightest, princeliest balsam in the nearby woods. 
 Its fragrance penetrated and filled the old house. 
 The girls went about sniffing joyously, carrying in 
 their arms all sorts of mysterious objects made of 
 bright paper. Harkness, oddly dishevelled and ex- 
 cited, balanced on a stepladder and fastened the gay 
 ornaments where Robin directed. 
 
 Beryl had laughed at the idea of having a Christ- 
 mas tree without the usual tinsel and glittering 
 baubles. But after Robin and Harkness had worked 
 for a half-hour she admitted the effect was very 
 Christmasy and "different." 
 
 "You're awfully clever, Robin," she declared, in 
 a tone frankly grudging. "You make little things 
 count for so much like mother." 
 
 "I think that's a compliment. And speaking of
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 197 
 
 your mother, Beryl Lynch, we have just time to wash 
 our hands and faces and change our dresses before 
 she comes. Oh, hasn't this day simply flown? And 
 hasn't it been nice, after all ? Isn't Harkness darling 
 look at him." For Harkness, his head on one 
 side, a sprig of holly over one ear where Robin had 
 put it, was surveying the effect of an angel which 
 Robin had made of bright tissue paper and which 
 he had carefully hung by the heels. 
 
 "That kite looks as real as can be, Missy." 
 
 Giggling, the girls rushed away to make ready 
 for what Robin declared (though she had been much 
 hurt by Dale's refusing to come) the nicest part 
 of Christmas. 
 
 Belowstairs Mrs. Budge was directing Chloe with 
 the last touches of the Christmas feast. 
 
 "That's the prettiest cake I ever saw if I do say 
 so," she cried, patting the round cherry which adorned 
 the centre of the gaily frosted cake. Then, lest 
 she grow cheerful, she drew a long sigh from the 
 depths of her bosom. "But, cake or no cake, I never 
 thought I'd live to feed Mill persons, coming to our 
 table like the best people. Things plain common. 
 It ain't like the old days it ain't." 
 
 "The old days are old days, Hannah Budge," 
 rebuked Harkness, who had come into the kitchen. 
 "Mebbe our little lydy's ways aren't our ways but 
 it isn't so bad hearing the young voices and you'll 
 admit, Mrs. Budge, that that's a fine cake and there'd
 
 198 RED-ROBIN 
 
 be no cake if Missy wasn't here, now, won't you?" 
 
 "I haven't time for your philosophizing, Timothy 
 Harkness. With things at sixes and sevens I have 
 enough to do !" But Mrs. Budge's tone had softened. 
 She had not made a Christmas cake (at sixteen 
 Hannah Budge had taken the prize at the County 
 Agricultural Exhibit for the finest decorated cake, 
 and she had never forgotten it) since Master 
 Christopher the Third had left them. And she had 
 enjoyed hearing young voices and eager steps in the 
 old house and had caught herself that very morning, 
 as she helped Chloe stuff the turkey, singing : 
 "Oh, com-m-me let 'tus a-dor-r-re Him." 
 
 Chloe's last delectable dish for the dinner eaten, 
 Harkness drew back the folding doors to reveal the 
 Christmas tree in the conservatory. And Robin, 
 waiting for Mrs. Lynch's "oh" of admiration, gave 
 vent herself to a delighted cry of surprise for, at the 
 foot of the tree, so still as to seem a graven image, 
 sat little Susy, cross-legged, staring in wrapt con- 
 tentment at the bright ornaments. 
 
 "Susy, you darling, where in the world did you 
 drop from?" Robin rushed to her and knelt at 
 her side. 
 
 Without moving her eyes so much as a fraction 
 of an inch, Susy indicated the side door of the con- 
 servatory as her means of entrance. In one hand 
 she clutched a soiled ragged picture book, on its 
 uppermost page tfie colorful illustration of "The
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 199 
 
 Night before Christmas." Susy had not forgotten 
 the magic of that side door which had opened for her 
 upon a feast beyond her wildest imaginings; if there 
 were a place on earth where that Christmas tree of 
 her picture could come really true it must be at the 
 "big girl's." Alone she had bravely climbed the hill 
 to the Manor to find out. 
 
 Not a word could Robin's questioning drag 
 from her. 
 
 "You shall stay here as long as you want," Robin 
 finally declared, popping a round bon-bon between 
 the child's trembling lips. "We needed a little girl 
 to sit at the foot of that tree, didn't we?" 
 
 At Robin's command, Harkness played the role of 
 Santa. The girls had fashioned all sorts of non- 
 sensical gifts out of paper and cardboard and paste; 
 no one was forgotten. Mrs. Lynch declared herself 
 "as rich as rich" with bracelets and a necklace made 
 of red berries. Mrs. Budge, forgetting, when Robin 
 held a sprig of mistletoe over her head and daringly 
 kissed her wrinkled cheek, that "things was going 
 to sixes and sevens," laughed until her sides ached 
 at Harkness in his silly clown's cap. Robin and 
 Beryl, with much solemnity, exchanged purchases 
 each had secretly made at the village store and Robin 
 could not resist adding: "Dare you to send it to 
 me next Christmas." 
 
 Beryl had to admit, deep in her heart, that Robin 
 had managed a Christmas full of joy that had nothing
 
 200 RED-ROBIN 
 
 to do with stores full of lovely things and crowded 
 with people lucky enough to have money to buy them. 
 Never having thought much about the Christmas 
 spirit, she had no name with which to explain Mrs. 
 Budge's awkwardly kind manner even to her, or 
 her mother's unusual animation, or why the picture 
 of little Susy, still rooted to the tree, clasping a great 
 paper doll in her arms, made her glad all over. But 
 after a little she disappeared, and presently, from the 
 library, came the strains of her violin, low, pulsing 
 with a deep emotion, now a laugh, now a sob, climb- 
 ing higher and higher until they sang like the far-off, 
 quivery note of a bird, flying into the heavens. 
 
 A deep hush fell over the little group of merry- 
 makers. Harkness coughed into his hand. Mrs. 
 Budge fussed around the spacious belt of a dress for 
 a handkerchief and, finding none, surreptitiously 
 lifted a corner of her apron. Mrs. Lynch caught 
 her throat with a convulsive movement as though 
 something hurt it. Robin, watching her, slipped her 
 hand into the mother's and squeezed it. 
 
 "Don't go," she whispered when the music sud- 
 denly ceased. "Beryl's funny. She likes to be alone 
 when she plays." 
 
 "I never heard her play like that!" 
 
 "Oh, Beryl's wonderful!" Robin smiled happily 
 in her faith. "She makes that all up, too, 'cause she 
 hasn't any music. She's going to be the greatest 
 violinist in the world. Hush!"
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 201 
 
 Beryl had begun a lilting refrain, as though a 
 mother laughed as she sang a lullaby. It had in it 
 a familiar strain which carried little Mrs. Moira back 
 to Beryl's baby days. Then the lullaby swung into 
 the deeper tones of a Christmas anthem and again 
 into a tempestuous outburst of melody, as though 
 Beryl had let loose all at once the riotous feelings 
 that surged within her. 
 
 Just as the last note died away a bell pealed 
 through the house. Because it was still Christmas, 
 really being only nine o'clock, everyone looked for a 
 surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when 
 Harkness placed an impressive envelope in Robin's 
 hands and said that a stranger had brought it to 
 the door. 
 
 "He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but 
 before I could as much as say 'Good evening' he was 
 off in the dark." 
 
 Robin studied the address, which was printed. 
 It gave no clue whatsoever. Nor was there any- 
 thing else on the envelope. She broke the sealed 
 flap, with an excited giggle. Five crisp bank-notes 
 fell out. 
 
 "For goodness' sake," cried Beryl, staring. 
 "Who ever sent them?" 
 
 "To Miss GORDON FORSYTH. Please use this money for your 
 House of Laughter. I am deeply interested in your experiment. 
 Frankly, I do not believe it will work; but if it does my little
 
 202 RED-ROBIN 
 
 contribution will be well spent; and if it doesn't, my own con 
 viction will be justified. 
 
 YOUR FRIEND NEAR THE RUSHING WATER." 
 
 Beryl squealed with delight. "How larky to 
 have her remember every solitary thing you told 
 her, Robin even what we called her house. What 
 are you going to do with it all? I wish / could 
 get money like that." 
 
 Robin stood staring at the letter not at all jubi- 
 lant over the unexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't 
 said she didn't believe the experiment would work. 
 It isn't an experiment and it witt work. I'm not 
 trying anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, 
 who hastily assured her with a "No, dearie M Then 
 Robin gathered up the bank-notes. 
 
 "Though I did wish we had more nice things 
 for the house and now we can get them. But isn't 
 this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen 
 a one and two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. 
 "I never had so much in my life." 
 
 At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas 
 celebration apparently abandoned in the excitement 
 of the strange letter, she departed kitchen ward. 
 
 Harkness volunteered to escort Susy and Mrs. 
 Lynch back to the village. In a twinkling the house 
 had quieted so that the girls' footsteps, as they climbed 
 the stairs, resounded strangely. 
 
 Robin leaned for a moment against the banister
 
 CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR 203 
 
 and looked back into the shadows of the great, dimly- 
 lit hall. 
 
 "Listen a moment, Beryl! Can't you hear tiny 
 echoes of voices and laughter? Don't you s'pose 
 even the things we think and feel get into the air, too 
 and linger?" 
 
 Beryl tugged at her arm. "Oh, come on, Robin. 
 You make me creepy. You'll be seeing ghosts in a 
 moment. I want to have a good look at that letter. 
 Wasn't it a surprise, though?" 
 
 But after a close study of it, Beryl threw the 
 letter down in disappointment. "Not so much as a 
 tiny crown on it! I'll bet she had someone write 
 it for her, too. It looks all big and scrawly like 
 a man. Anyway, Robin, you ought to keep one of 
 the bills as a souvenir."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 
 
 THE day after Christmas, and for many days 
 thereafter, Robin counted over the five precious bank- 
 notes. She knew with her eyes shut each line and 
 shading of their fascinating decoration. She kept 
 them in a little heart-shaped box that had been a 
 favor at a studio party she had gone to with Jimmie 
 a few years ago. 
 
 Their magic opened possibilities for her House 
 of Laughter ; curtains cushions books pictures 
 games, why, she could have all the things she had 
 wanted so much to complete her little cottage. And 
 behind her eager planning was a thought she kept 
 shut tight away in her heart. If there were any 
 money left by careful buying the Queen would 
 surely want her to give it to Dale to perfect his 
 model. For had not Adam Kraus and Dale both 
 said that the little invention would make everything 
 at the Mills better? She would present her gift to 
 him at the "opening" of the House of Laughter. 
 Mrs. Lynch had assured her Dale would be there. 
 Llnder cover of the general merriment she would find 
 an opportunity. She went over and over, until she 
 could say them backward, the few words with which 
 she would make him accept the money. 
 
 Beryl, not knowing what was going on in Robin's 
 204
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 205 
 
 mind, declared she fussed an awful lot over samples 
 and lists for anyone wrn had so much money to spend 
 and Mrs. Lynch encouraged her economy because, she 
 said, " 'Twas likely as not the roof 'd leak in the 
 Spring and shingles cost a lot, they did." When 
 Robin declared the lovely rose-patterned cretonne too 
 expensive, Mrs. Lynch helped her dye the cheese 
 cloth they bought at the village store a gay yellow. 
 And she wisely counselled Robin to let her write to 
 Miss Lewis (remembering the simplicity of the 
 Settlement House where she had worked) and ask 
 her to send up a few suitable pictures and the right 
 books with which to begin. "She'll know, dearie." 
 
 While the final preparations were going rapidly 
 forward, Mrs. Lynch took pains to spread the news 
 of the House of Laughter through the Mill Village 
 by the simple medium of taking a cup of tea with 
 Mrs. Whaley and telling her all about it. "It's better 
 it is than the written word," she explained to Robin, 
 who had worried over just how the Mill people were 
 going to know about their plans. "And when you 
 send the cute little cards around it'll be in crowds 
 they come, you mark me." 
 
 "Don't you think everything'll be ready by Satur- 
 day night?" Robin asked eagerly. 
 
 Percival Tubbs, for one, hoped everything would 
 be, for he had not been able to hold Robin to serious 
 study since the holidays. And poor Harkness had 
 developed a stitch in his back hanging the pictures
 
 206 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Miss Lewis sent and laying clean white paper in 
 cupboards and on shelves. 
 
 Though Beryl had not cared particularly whether 
 the windows of the living room of the House of 
 Laughter were hung in rose or yellow, and laughed 
 when Robin chose a scarlet-robed picture of Sir 
 Galahad, because he looked as though he were seeing 
 such a beautiful vision, to hang over the shelf 
 Williams had built as a mantel, she felt a lively in- 
 terest in the festivities which were to open the House 
 to the Mill people. Robin let her help in planning 
 everything to the smallest detail. 
 
 The children were to come in the afternoon and 
 play outdoors with their sleds and indoors with the 
 books and games, eat cookies and cocoa and depart 
 with beautiful red and blue and yellow balloons. 
 In the evening the young men and women and the 
 fathers and mothers were to gather in the living 
 room and play games and sing and maybe dance 
 and lock at the books and make lovely plans and 
 admire everything. There would be sandwiches and 
 coffee for them, too. And Robin would make a 
 little speech, telling them that the House of Laughter 
 was all theirs to do what they wanted with it and 
 that the key would always hang just behind the shiny 
 green trellis. Robin had demurred at this last detail, 
 shrinking in horror at the thought of a "speech," 
 but Beryl had insisted that she really must because 
 she was a "Forsyth."
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 207 
 
 Then Robin wrote and sent to each of the Mill 
 houses cards inviting them to come to the House of 
 Laughter on Saturday night. 
 
 And, everything ready, she counted a precious 
 two hundred dollars left in the heart-shaped box. 
 That, with what she had not spent from her ridicu- 
 lously big allowance, seemed a fortune. 
 
 Saturday dawned a crisp, cold, bright day, prom- 
 ising to the expectant sponsors of the House of 
 Laughter, all kinds of success. But at twelve o'clock 
 a little group of mill workers, chosen by their fellows, 
 went to Frank Norris, the Superintendent, and asked 
 for higher wages and better living conditions, Adam 
 Kraus acting as their leader. It was not the first 
 time these complaints and requests had been laid 
 before the superintendent but now, in the hearts of 
 the hundreds of men and girls who hung around 
 the yards long after the noon whistle blew, a new 
 hope kindled, for there had never before been a man 
 among them who could talk so convincingly as Adam 
 Kraus or could more effectually make old Norris 
 realize that they all knew now, to a man, that they 
 could get more money almost anywhere else and work 
 and live like decent human beings. Adam Kraus 
 had opened their eyes. He was their hero for the 
 moment. As he came, somewhat precipitously, 
 from the office building they gave a quick shout that 
 died, however, with a menacing suddenness, as they 
 saw his failure written on his angry face. They
 
 208 RED-ROBIN 
 
 pressed about him, eager for details, but he would 
 tell them nothing beyond a curt admission that he 
 had not been able to make Norris listen. 
 
 "I say, go to the Manor !" cried a man who had 
 not been at the Mills more than a month. 
 
 A strapping girl, with a coarse prettiness, laughed 
 a mocking strident laugh that expressed the feelings 
 of the crowd even more than the louder curses around 
 her. The workers slowly dispersed, in little groups, 
 talking in excited, angry tones. Dale Lynch de- 
 tached himself from one of these groups and walked 
 on alone, a frown darkening his face; nor did he 
 shake off his absorption even after he sat down at 
 the table to eat his mother's good Saturday meal - 
 overcooked for standing. 
 
 "Has Adam been to Norris again?" asked 
 big Danny. 
 
 Dale nodded. It was not necessary for either 
 his father or mother to ask the outcome of the call. 
 '"Norris wouldn't listen to a word. I've been won- 
 dering if Adam is right about the way to get this." 
 
 "He ought to know more'n you do," flared big 
 Danny, who loved something upon which to vent his 
 own rancor. 
 
 "I suppose." Dale admitted, eating with quick, 
 absent-minded gulps. "I'd like to be the head of 
 these Mills I'd see both sides and make the other 
 fellow see, too."
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 209 
 
 "Sure, it's wonderful you'd be," murmured Mrs. 
 Lynch, caressingly. 
 
 "Well, I'm about as far from it as I am from 
 being President of the United States. Adam has a 
 better chance if he ever gets his way. There's 
 a leader." 
 
 Mrs. Lynch cut a generous portion of apple pie 
 in a silence that said plainly she did not agree with 
 her boy. Dale ate the pie, wiped his lips, pushed 
 back the plate. 
 
 "The Rileys have got to move up the river." 
 
 "Dale, you don't say so?" Mrs. Lynch was all 
 concern now. The Rileys were neighbors. Tim 
 Riley had fallen down an unguarded shaft at the 
 Mills and had hurt his back. Mrs. Lynch had helped 
 Mrs. Riley care for her husband and had grown 
 very fond of the plucky little woman. "Why, it's 
 his death he'll get with the dampness up there, and 
 those blessed little colleens." 
 
 "Well, they've got to go. Riley can only work 
 half-time now and he can't afford one of these 
 houses." 
 
 "Oh, dear, oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Lynch. "Don't 
 tell Robin," she begged. "It's so happy the child is 
 with her House of Laughter, as she calls it and 
 Dale, she's a different Forsyth." 
 
 "She's just a kid," he answered, in a tone that 
 implied Robin could have little weight against the 
 impregnable House of Forsyth. 
 14
 
 2io RED-ROBIN 
 
 But a few hours later, when, with the coming of 
 night into the valley, the last tired youngster departed 
 from the House of Laughter, balloon on high, the 
 "just a kid" fell to restoring the House to its original 
 perfection with a vim that seemed as tireless as 
 her spirits. 
 
 "Wasn't it a success? Didn't the children have 
 a wonderful time?" she begged to know, with all the 
 happy concern of a middle-aged hostess. "Are you 
 dreadfully tired, Mother Lynch? Because tonight's 
 the real test." She stopped suddenly and leaned on 
 her broom, her face very serious. "I do hope the 
 big girls will like it. I wish the Queen hadn't said 
 she didn't believe our experiment would work. 
 Why won't it work? Don't grown-ups like to be 
 happy just as much as children when they get 
 a chance?" 
 
 Mrs. Lynch had no answ r er for Robin's wonder- 
 ing. "Queens don't know about things in this 
 country," Beryl, instead, assured her. "These books 
 are just about ruined. I thought Tommy Black 
 would eat up this Arabian Nights." 
 
 "That shows how much they want them! I 
 don't care if they do eat them." Robin was too 
 happy to be disturbed by anything. Wasn't her 
 beautiful plan in the process of coming true? And 
 didn't she have her money in her pocket all ready 
 for Dale's grasp? 
 
 She had brought flowers from the Manor which
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 211 
 
 she arranged on the tables and the mantel under her 
 beloved Sir Galahad. These, with the mellow glow 
 of the lamps and the sun-yellow of the curtains, and 
 the gleams of red from the shiny stove, which had 
 to do for the fireplace Robin had wanted, and the 
 brilliant scarlet of the Sir Galahad, all served to 
 soften and lend beauty to the faded bits of carpet- 
 ing and the shabby furnishings brought from the 
 Manor attic. 
 
 "I do think everything's lovely and it's just be- 
 cause you've all been so kind about helping," Robin 
 declared, viewing the room with pride. "I hope ever 
 so many people'll come and that they'll believe it's 
 theirs. But, oh, Beryl, don't you think we could 
 make them know without my saying a speech?" 
 And Robin shivered with nervousness. 
 
 "Of course not," Beryl answered with cruel 
 promptness. "Anyway, as long as you thought 
 about all this you ought to get the credit." Beryl 
 had no patience with Robin's "blushing-unseen" 
 nature. "It'll be easy, anyway. You just ought to 
 know how I felt the day Mr. Henri took me to 
 play for Martini. Why, my knees turned to putty. 
 But then, that was different. Listen, there comes 
 some one now! I'll stay in the kitchen until the 
 sandwiches are made." 
 
 Dale opened the door and Adam Kraus followed 
 him in. Then, while Robin, two bright spots of 
 color burning in her cheeks, was showing them the
 
 212 RED-ROBIN 
 
 new books, a group of mothers arrived, stiff and 
 miserable in their Sunday best, and she shyly greeted 
 them. When another knock sounded Mrs. Lynch 
 took the women in charge so that Robin might wel- 
 come the newcomers. They were four of the Mill 
 girls and they crowded into the room, staring curi- 
 ously about them and at Robin, whose greeting they 
 answered awkwardly. Spying Adam Kraus, they 
 rushed to him with noisy banter and laughter that 
 had a shrill edge. 
 
 Robin, left alone and without the courage to 
 join either group, watched the girls as they gathered 
 about Adam Kraus and Dale. Suddenly panic seized 
 her. She fought against it, she told herself that 
 everything was going all right and that in a few mo- 
 ments more people would come, and these girls, who 
 looked at her so rudely from the corners of their 
 eyes, would forget about her and have a good time. 
 From the kitchen, where Harkness was presiding, 
 came the first faint aroma of coffee, and Beryl and 
 Mrs. Williams were piling dainty sandwiches on 
 plates as fast as their quick fingers could make them. 
 Mrs. Lynch and the mothers seemed to be gossiping 
 contentedly at one end of the room but Robin won- 
 dered why they talked so low, and why Mrs. Lynch 
 now and then glanced anxiously in her direction ; once 
 she heard something about "the Rileys" and an im- 
 ploring "hush" from Mother Lynch. Adam Kraus 
 and the four girls were urging Dale to do something
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 213 
 
 and Robin saw a big girl with bold black eyes lay a 
 persuasive hand on Dale's arm, which Dale shook off 
 almost rudely. Robin hated the girl, and wished she 
 had the courage to break into the circle and drag 
 Dale away from her, instead of standing in such a 
 silly way in the kitchen door with her tongue glued 
 to the roof of her mouth. 
 
 And, oh, why didn't more people come? What 
 was the matter? 
 
 After what seemed to Robin an interminable time, 
 though in fact it was only a few minutes, Adam 
 Kraus moved toward her, trailed by the four girls. 
 "I've got to run along, Miss Forsyth," he said in 
 his easy, soft voice. "There's an important meeting 
 in the village. You've fixed a nice little doll 
 house here." 
 
 The girl with the black eyes, standing just back 
 of Adam Kraus' shoulder, laughed a scornful 
 laugh. 
 
 "Too bad the Rileys can't move here !" 
 
 The Rileys again! Robin flushed at the girl's 
 laugh and hateful eyes, tried to answer Adam Kraus 
 and to beg them all to wait until Harkness brought 
 in the coffee, but found her throat paralyzed and her 
 feet rooted to the spot. The Mill mothers saw Adam 
 Kraus and the girls start for the little hall and 
 hastily moved in that direction themselves. 
 
 "Oh, don't go!" Robin managed to cry, then, 
 moving after them, "Mrs. Lynch, make them stay.
 
 214 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Why, I wanted this to be a party, to to This is 
 your House of Laughter ! I " She struggled des- 
 perately to recall the words of the "speech" Beryl 
 had declared perfect and to keep from breaking down 
 into tears before these hard, staring eyes. 
 
 The black-eyed girl elbowed her way out from 
 behind the others, casting a quick look at Adam 
 Kraus as though for his approval. "I guess you 
 named this house all right, Miss Forsyth. It is to 
 laugh! But there ain't many of us that know all 
 poor little Mamie Riley's stood, and cares about her 
 the same way we cared for Sarah Castle that feels 
 like laughing tonight!" She tossed her head as 
 though proud of her courage, then singled out Dale 
 for a parting shot. "We're sorry, Mr. Lynch, that 
 you're too good to come with us ! Ma, (turning to 
 a meek-faced woman), leave the door unlocked. The 
 ineeting'll be a long one." 
 
 And just as Mrs. Williams patted down the last 
 sandwich, Mrs. Lynch, with a shaking hand, closed 
 the door and, turning, faced Dale and Robin. 
 
 "Well, of all the ungrateful creatures !" cried 
 Beryl, who had taken in the little scene from the 
 kitchen door. 
 
 "Now don't you be a-caring, girlie dear," begged 
 Mrs. Lynch, frightened at Robin's stricken face. 
 
 Robin turned her glance around the deserted room 
 as though she simply could not believe her eyes. It 
 must surely be an awful dream from which she would
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 215 
 
 awaken. Mrs. Lynch went on, speaking quickly as 
 though to keep back her own tears of disappointment. 
 "It's a grand time the kiddies had this day, bless the 
 little hearts of them, and a loving you like you were 
 some bit of a fairy the impudence of them " 
 
 "Who are the Rileys ?" demanded Robin, sternly 
 for she had to know; the Rileys had spoiled her 
 beautiful plans. 
 
 "Now don't you be a-bothering your bright head 
 with the Rileys or anyone else " 
 
 Dale interrupted his mother. On his face still 
 lingered the dark flush that had crept up over it at 
 the black-eyed girl's taunt. 
 
 "I don't know why Miss Forsyth shouldn't know 
 the reason the Mill people didn't come tonight. 
 There's a big protest meeting about the Rileys it 
 wasn't gotten up until five o'clock or I'd have told 
 you. Tim Riley's been laid up for six months and 
 he's just back on half-time and can't ever do any 
 better, I guess and he's been ordered out of his 
 house which means up the river " 
 
 "Up where Granny Castle lives?" broke in 
 Robin, in a queer voice. 
 
 "Yes. And it's hard on Tim's wife and her 
 children they're just little things. And he can't go 
 anywhere else, now. It seems Tim's wife went her- 
 self to Norris and begged for a little time until she 
 heard from an uncle up in Canada or found some 
 way of earning extra money herself, and Norris
 
 216 RED-ROBIN 
 
 wouldn't give in for one day. The men are all 
 pretty sore and they called this meeting " 
 
 "That's where that girl wanted you to go?" 
 
 "Yes. And that's why Adam Kraus had to 
 hurry off." 
 
 Robin suddenly clutched at her pocket, her face 
 flaming. "Dale, will you hurry down to that meet- 
 ing and take them this?" She held out a thick 
 roll of bills. "It maybe isn't enough but it will help. 
 I had saved it for something else, but, oh, those babies 
 just can't go to that dreadful place " 
 
 Dale shook his head and put his hands behind 
 him. 
 
 "That wouldn't go at that meeting, Miss Forsyth. 
 The men would see red. It isn't charity they want 
 it's justice. They're giving good honest labor to 
 Norris and he isn't fair in return. They're willing 
 to pay to live decently they just want the chance. 
 And to work decently, too. If you knew the Rileys 
 you'd know what a proud sort they are they wouldn't 
 take your money any more than I would or mother, 
 here. If your aunt were home or if you'd go to 
 Norris " He considered a moment, frowning. 
 "The men and girls are so roused up that it'll be 
 only a step to organizing and all that sort of thing 
 and these Mills have been pretty free from labor 
 trouble if only Norris could be made to understand 
 that. But he's so set and out-of-date " Dale 
 laughed suddenly, a short, bitter laugh, "I suppose
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 217 
 
 I'm extra sore because he refused to even look at 
 my model." 
 
 "You all needn't take your spite out on Robin," 
 broke in Beryl, vehemently. 
 
 "Well Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all 
 that's happened today, the Forsyths aren't very popu- 
 lar with the Mill people. You mustn't blame them 
 too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the 
 mood to be patronized and they look upon all this 
 as a sort of oh, charity." 
 
 Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so 
 distressed that Dale laid his hand comfortingly on 
 her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his mother's 
 "Don't you be aworrying your kind little heart ! And 
 if you begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter 
 across to them yet." 
 
 "Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught des- 
 perately at the straw he offered. 
 
 "Let them pay for it. They can. And theyTl 
 be willing to when they get the idea." 
 
 "But I wanted it to be my gift." 
 
 "The opportunity for them to have it will be 
 your gift." 
 
 Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a 
 rift in all the clouds. 
 
 "Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And 
 I forgetting it! Let them pay as much as they can 
 and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring what's 
 theirs. And no charity about it at all at all ! These
 
 2i8 RED-ROBIN 
 
 folks are good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self- 
 respecting they like to feel and a-paying for what 
 they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit of fun. 
 It's a beginning, anyway, this day and you shan't 
 grieve your blessed heart for, if I'm not mistaken, 
 there'll be laughter enough in this house by and by. 
 Mind you what I said once about beginnings had to 
 come first!" Which was a long speech for Mrs. 
 Lynch and amazingly comforting to Robin. 
 
 She slipped the roll of bank-notes back into the 
 pocket of her dress ; she could not even offer them to 
 Dale, now. "You're dear and patient and I guess 
 I've been stupid and expected too much. But I 
 shan't make any more mistakes and I'm going to 
 make the most of my 'beginning'." 
 
 "And now, Dale boy, why not have a bit of Mr. 
 Harkness' good coffee?" 
 
 But, though Beryl and Robin pressed, Dale re- 
 fused and slipped away and Robin had a moment's 
 picture of the triumph of the "horrid" girl when she 
 saw Dale come into the meeting. Then, remember- 
 ing the plight of the Rileys' she was ashamed of 
 herself for not wanting Dale to go. Sitting around 
 the centre table she and Beryl ate sandwiches while 
 Harkness and Mrs. Lynch and Mrs. Williams sipped 
 coffee. The fire sputtered and gleamed cheerfully, 
 and Sir Galahad's scarlet coat made a brilliant splash 
 of color in the soft glow of the room. 
 
 "Who was that big girl with the black eyes?"
 
 THE HOUSE OF LAUGHTER 219 
 
 Robin found the courage to ask Beryl when the whole 
 dreadful evening was over and they were back at 
 the Manor. 
 
 "Oh, she's Sophie Mack. She and Sarah Castle 
 were chums and worked together. Dale says she's 
 awfully clever but 7 think she's horrid. The way 
 she spoke to him tonight." 
 
 Robin agreed that she was horrid. And she 
 hated to think that her Prince could find this Sophie 
 Mack clever. 
 
 Too tired from the disappointing evening to want 
 to talk, and too wide awake to dream of going to 
 sleep, she lay very still until Beryl's deep breathing 
 told her her companion had slipped into dreamland. 
 Then she crept from bed and crouched, a mite of a 
 thing, at the window sill and stared out into the 
 brilliant night. A moon shone coldly over the snowy 
 hills, throwing into bold relief the stacks and build- 
 ings of the Mills. Robin recalled that day she had 
 first likened them to a Giant. That day seemed 
 so much had happened since and she had grown so 
 much inside very long ago and she a silly girl think- 
 ing stories about everything. Her guardian, to 
 amuse her, had talked about finding a Jack to climb 
 the Beanstalk and kill the monster. She smiled 
 scornfully at the fancy so futile in the face of the 
 tremendous misery and happiness that Giant had 
 the power to make!
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 
 
 Two hours after Robin's lonely vigil at the win- 
 dow ended, fire destroyed the empty cottage "up the 
 river" into which the Rileys had been ordered 
 to move. 
 
 "I wish it had burned in the daytime when we 
 could have watched it," Beryl had declared, almost 
 resentfully. But Robin's concern had been for old 
 Granny Castle and little Susy. 
 
 Harkness, who had brought them the news, re- 
 assured her. "Too bad they couldn't all a' burned 
 but no such luck only th' one. It's said that there 
 are some as knows how a' empty house without so 
 much as a crumb to draw a rat could a' gone up like 
 that did. And Williams says as how there was men 
 stood around and wouldn't lift a hand to help put out 
 the blaze though they took care it didn't spread." 
 
 "What do you mean, Mr. Harkness?" broke 
 in Robin. 
 
 "Why, just this, Missy, Williams says that there's 
 a lot of bad feeling stirrin' and bad feelings lead 
 to hasty things like revenge." 
 
 "You mean some one of the Mill people set it 
 on fire?" asked Beryl slowly, with wide eyes. 
 
 "And who else'd have bad feelings?" 
 
 Robin recalled, with alarm, what Dale had said 
 220
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 221 
 
 at the House of Laughter. Could Dale have done 
 this thing or helped ? Or stood around and watched 
 it burn? Oh, no, no not Dale. 
 
 Harkness, seeing her concern, dexterously broke 
 a soft-boiled egg into a silver egg-cup and said in a 
 carefully casual voice, intended to put the fire quite 
 out of their minds : "Well, the constable'll find 
 the man what did it, so don't you worry your 
 head, Missy." 
 
 Robin, her heart heavy with all she wanted to do 
 and couldn't find a way to do, swallowed a scream at 
 his "Don't you worry your head." Why did everyone 
 say that to her just because she was little on the 
 outside? If she didn't worry her head who was 
 there to worry? 
 
 It was with a heavy spirit she dressed herself 
 girded herself, she called it for her call upon Mr. 
 Norris at the Mills. The long hours of Sunday, 
 through which she had to wait, had filled her with 
 misgiving. Now she looked so absurdly small in the 
 mirror, her tousled hair so childish, no matter how 
 much she tried to tuck it out of sight under the little 
 dark blue toque, why would anyone, especially a 
 manager of a Mill, listen to her? 
 
 Beryl, stirred to sympathy by Robin's daring to 
 face the lion in his den, told her for the hundredth 
 time just how she had suffered before that mo- 
 mentous visit to Martini, the orchestra leader, in 
 New York.
 
 222 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Why, my hands were clammy and my teeth rat- 
 tled and everything whirled in front of me and my 
 knees just knocked together, but, say, I gulped and 
 I said terribly hard to myself, 'You want this thing 
 and you can't get it if you're all soft inside and a 
 coward', and, Robin, in a twinkling, something be- 
 gan to grow inside of me and get big and big until I 
 had courage to do anything! Of course it was 
 different with me but you'll probably feel just the 
 way I did, all strong inside, when you face him and 
 get stirred up. Only I hate to tell you, but I saw 
 you put your stocking on wrong side out and then 
 change it and that's bad luck!" 
 
 Robin looked down at the luckless stocking. It 
 looked too absurdly a trifle to have weight with any- 
 thing as important as righting the wrongs of 
 the Rileys. 
 
 Afterward, however, Robin vowed she'd always 
 take great care in her dressing! 
 
 Frank Norris had been superintendent of the 
 Forsyth Mills for twenty-five years. Since the 
 death of old Christopher Forsyth he had run them 
 pretty much as he pleased, for, inasmuch as his ac- 
 counting was accurate to the smallest fraction and 
 his profits unfailingly forthcoming, neither Madame 
 Forsyth nor her financial or legal advisers, saw fit 
 to interfere with him. For that reason the old man 
 felt annoyance as well as surprise when Robin broke 
 into the usual routine of his Monday morning, already 
 disturbed by the mystery of Saturday night's fire.
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 223 
 
 He had duly paid his respects to the little Forsyth 
 lieir with a Sunday afternoon call and had afterward 
 reported to Mrs. Norris that she "was a little thing, 
 all red hair and eyes." But now, as she stood at one 
 end of his desk, something in the resolute set of 
 her chin arrested and held his attention; there was 
 something more he could not at the moment say 
 what to the "little thing" than eyes and red hair. 
 
 Robin swallowed (as Beryl had instructed) and 
 plunged straight into her errand. Wouldn't he please 
 let the Rileys stay in their cottage for a little while 
 until something could be done ? 
 
 At the mention of the Rileys the smile he had 
 mustered vanished, and his bushy eyebrows drew 
 sharply down over his narrow eyes from which angry 
 little gleams flashed. 
 
 "Who asked you to come to me, Miss Forsyth?" 
 
 Robin's heart went down into her boots. "No 
 one," she answered in a faint voice. Then, quite sud- 
 denly, something in the hard, angry face opposite her 
 fired that spark within her that Beryl had assured her 
 she would feel. She felt the "big thing" grow and 
 grow until she stood straight, quite unafraid, and 
 could go on calmly. "Only I don't think and I 
 don't believe my aunt would think it is quite fair 
 to put them out of their house when they've had so 
 much trouble. Hasn't Mr. Riley always been a very 
 good workman? There are lots of things here I 
 don't think quite right, and when my aunt comes 
 back I'm going to ask her to change "
 
 224 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "May I interrupt you, Miss Forsyth, to inquire 
 upon what experience you base your knowledge? 
 For I assume, of course, you would not want to 
 radically change things here without knowing what 
 you were offering in their place. I was under the 
 impression that you were quite a youngster and had 
 lived with your father in a somewhat Bohemian 
 fashion " 
 
 A deep rose stained Robin's face. She caught 
 the hint of a slur. 
 
 "My father taught me what is honest and fair 
 and kind and cruel and " She had to stop to con- 
 trol the trembling in her voice. The man took ad- 
 vantage of it by breaking in, his voice measured and 
 conciliatory. He suddenly realized the ridiculousness 
 and the danger in quarreling with even a fifteen- 
 year-old Forsyth. 
 
 "My dear child, I can readily understand in what 
 light certain conditions appear to one of your tender 
 years. When you are older you will understand that 
 an industry such as I am in charge of here, and 
 conducting, I believe, quite satisfactorily for the 
 Forsyths, has to be run by the head and not the 
 heart. I dislike immensely having to do such things 
 as forcing the Rileys to move but you must see it is 
 my duty. If I make an exception in their case 
 there will be hundreds like them. As it happens " 
 he let a rasp of anger break into his voice "the 
 cottage mto which they were to move was burned
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 225 
 
 down Saturday night. However that will only delay 
 the enforcing of my order and when the man or men 
 
 who set fire to it are caught they will be dealt with 
 
 severely. Your Rileys will enjoy a few days of 
 grace until we can put another into shape." 
 
 "If they burned it it's because they had to show 
 
 us how they felt that the place wasn't fit to live in ! 
 
 Mr. Norris, the Mill people are nice people ; I heard 
 I heard someone say that this was the only Mill 
 
 in all New England where real white folks worked 
 
 but they think we I mean the Forsyths 
 
 don't care-" 
 
 Norris stood up abruptly. Somehow or another 
 he must end this absurd interview while he could 
 yet hang on to his temper. Some one of these miser- 
 able agitators he suspected who it might be had 
 influenced the girl, was using her for a tool. He 
 had heard, of course, of the intimacy between Miss 
 Gordon and the Lynchs. 
 
 "My dear girl you have no idea how much I 
 would like to go into all this with you and straighten 
 out the muddle in your head but, really, I am a 
 
 very busy man. Tell me, didn't young Dale Lynch 
 
 persuade you to come to me?" 
 
 Robin's lips parted impulsively to deny it then 
 
 closed. Dale had suggested her coming to Norris. 
 
 Before she could explain, the man went on, a ring 
 
 of triumph sharpening his voice. 
 
 "Ah, I thought so! Now let me tell you why 
 15 J
 
 226 RED-ROBIN 
 
 he is disgruntled. I would not look at some con- 
 trivance he brought to me which he claims will, when 
 it is perfected, increase the efficiency of our looms 
 fifty per cent. He's a bright young fellow but he 
 doesn't know his place, and he's too chummy with 
 a certain man in these Mills to be tealthy for him. 
 However, I'm looking to our friend the town con- 
 stable to straighten all that out. Now, Miss Gordon," 
 with a hand on her shoulder he gently and in a 
 fatherly manner led her toward the door. "I would 
 suggest, that, without the advice of your aunt or 
 your guardian you do not worry your pretty little 
 red head over this !" And he bowed her with pleasant 
 courtesy out of the door. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh!" Another one telling her not 
 to worry ! She clenched her teeth that no one in the 
 outer office might see how near she was to tears. 
 Outside, in a stifled voice, she directed Williams to 
 drive her back to the Manor, then sat very straight 
 in the car as though those hateful eyes could pierce 
 the thick walls and gloat over her defeat. 
 
 Halfway to the Manor she remembered suddenly 
 that she had quite ignored the study hours and that 
 doubtless poor Percival Tubbs was pulling his Van 
 Dyke to pieces in his rage. Then in turn she forgot 
 the tutor in a flash of concern for Dale. That beast 
 of a Norris had said something about Dale being 
 too chummy with a certain man and the constable ! 
 Did they suspect Adam Kraus and Dale of setting
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 227 
 
 fire to the cottage ? Oh, why had she let him think 
 Dale had suggested her interfering for the Rileys 
 how stupid she had been! If they arrested Dale 
 and accused him it would be her own fault. A fine 
 way for her to repay dear, dear Mother Lynch. What 
 could she do? 
 
 Beryl met her with the warning that Mr. Tubbs 
 was "simply furious" and had said something about 
 "standing this vagary about as long as he could," 
 which did not mean much to Robin, not half so much 
 as Beryl's own ill-temper, for the tutor had taken 
 the annoyance of Robin's high-handed absentedness 
 out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl cross she 
 could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into 
 trouble. She must meet the situation alone. 
 
 She must warn Dale, first of ail. And to do that 
 she must resort to the distasteful expedient of hang- 
 ing about in the groceries-and-notions store until 
 Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as 
 he might possibly do. 
 
 She found no difficulty in getting away alone, 
 for Beryl, in the sulks, had buried herself in the 
 deep window-seat of the library. Down in the store 
 she startled the old storekeeper by an almost whole- 
 sale order of candies and cookies and topped it off 
 by a demand for a pink knitting wool, which, Robin 
 hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmost 
 shelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grum- 
 bling under his breath, she hurriedly told him she
 
 228 RED-ROBIN 
 
 didn't want it and dropped a crisp five dollar bill on 
 the counter, for the men were pouring down the 
 street and any moment Dale might come. 
 
 No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad 
 of her fancy, could have planned things to more of 
 a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurd pur- 
 chases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam 
 Kraus walked along. It was not so much the un- 
 usualness of the girl's being there and alone, that 
 brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring 
 look in her wide and serious eyes. 
 
 "Where's Beryl or that chauffeur?" He took 
 her packages from her. 
 
 "I want to talk to you. I have to. Will you 
 walk just a little way home with me?" 
 
 "Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, 
 let's cut through here." For Dale realized that many 
 curious eyes were staring at them, and not too kindly. 
 Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truck- 
 ling" to a Forsyth, which, just then, was likely to 
 bring contempt upon him. 
 
 Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous pic- 
 ture they made; she in her warm suit of softest 
 duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his working clothes, 
 swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other 
 balancing her knobby packages. All she thought of 
 was that this was Dale, the Prince who had once 
 befriended her, whose make-believe presence had 
 often gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 229 
 
 was in danger now; and he looked down into the 
 little face under its fringe of flame-red hair and 
 wondered what in the world made it so tragic and 
 why it strangely haunted him as belonging to some 
 far-off picture in the past. 
 
 Vehemently, because it had been bottled up so 
 long, Robin told him how afraid she was for him 
 that Norris had as much as said he suspected him and 
 Adam Kraus, and that the constable might arrest 
 them any moment and wouldn't he please go away 
 or or something? 
 
 "He says you're disgruntled 'cause he wouldn't 
 look at your 'toy.' He's terribly mad about every- 
 thing I could see it in his horrid eyes. Oh, I hate 
 him!" she finished. 
 
 They had left the village and were close to the 
 bend in the road where stood the House of Laughter. 
 Dale stopped short and threw his head back with a 
 loud laugh. Robin had wondered in her heart with 
 what courage her Prince would take the news of 
 his danger but she had not expected this ! However, 
 his laugh softened the lines of his face until it looked 
 boyish and oh, so much like it had that night long ago 
 when she had been lost. 
 
 "Well, here I am laughing away and forgetting 
 to thank you for wanting to help me. But you 
 needn't be afraid for me, Miss Robin. There is still 
 a little justice in the world, in spite of men like 
 Norris, and I can prove to anyone that I was snug in
 
 230 RED-ROBIN 
 
 my bed until my mother dragged me out to go off 
 up to the old village. I can't say I helped fight the 
 fire what was the use ? Nothing could have saved 
 the old place. And I'd rather like to shake hands 
 with the man who set it on fire, though it was sort 
 of a low-down trick. Norris won't house anyone in 
 that rat-hole." 
 
 An immense relief shone in Robin's face. She 
 knew Dale had not done the "low-down trick." She 
 wished she had made Norris believe it! 
 
 "About the toy " Dale went on, soberly. 
 "Maybe in the end it'll be a good thing for me that 
 Norris turned it down. Adam Kraus has taken it 
 and he's going to have some little metal contrivances 
 made that it had to have and then he'll take it to 
 Grangers' and he feels pretty sure that Granger will 
 buy it. Only I had a sort of feeling that I wanted 
 it used here you see these mills gave definite shape 
 to this thing that has been growing in my head for 
 a. long time, just like verses in a poet's. I went to 
 a technical night school for years, you know, and I 
 couldn't get enough of the machine shop. One of 
 the teachers in the school got this job for me here. 
 I'd never been outside of New York before and I 
 thought this was Heaven, honest." 
 
 "Mr. Norris said you claimed it would oh, 
 something about efficiency," Robin floundered. 
 
 Dale nodded. "I not only claim, I know. That 
 Mttlc thing of mine attached to the looms here would 
 revolutionize the whole industry for the Forsyths.
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 231 
 
 You see these Mills are way behind times in their 
 equipment ; with improved looms they could turn out 
 more work, pay better wages, and give the men 
 better living and working conditions. And men 
 the sort they have here will work better with up-to- 
 date things around them; gives them an up-to-the- 
 minute respect for their job." 
 
 Robin stamped her foot in one of her impetuous 
 bursts of anger. 
 
 "He ought to be made to buy it !" she cried. 
 
 Dale turned to her and stared at her intently. 
 
 "You're a funny little thing. Why do you care 
 so much?" 
 
 Robin had a wild longing to bring back to his 
 mind that November night, long ago, when he had 
 found her clinging abjectly to the palings of the 
 park fence and had taken her home, that she had 
 declared then that he was her play-prince and that 
 she would hunt for him until she found him ! And, 
 quite by coincidence, she had found him and now 
 she wanted to do this thing for him and not entirely 
 to help the Forsyth Mills! But if she told him 
 and he laughed her pretty pretend would be all 
 over and, because it belonged to that happy childhood 
 in the bird-cage with Jimmie, it was precious and 
 she did not want to lose it yet. 
 
 So she flushed and answered shyly: "I don't 
 know." 
 
 "I'm ever so much obliged, Miss Robin, for your 
 interest and your worry over me. It gives a fe4-
 
 232 RED-ROBIN 
 
 low a jolly feeling of importance to know that a little 
 girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss 
 Robin, you've made things tremendously bright for 
 my mother this winter and for my father, too. I 
 didn't know whether mother'd be happy her in Was- 
 sumsic after being so busy in New York but it was 
 the only way I could stop her from working her head 
 off and I'd decided my shoulders were broad enough 
 to support my family. And you've done a lot for 
 Beryl, too. I can see it." 
 
 "Oh, don't!" cried Robin. As if she could let 
 him thank her for Mother Lynch as if the debt 
 were not on her side. They had reached the Manor 
 gate now and Dale handed her the packages. 
 
 "Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, 
 so don't you be worrying your little head," he ad- 
 monished and strangely enough Robin answered him 
 with a smile. He was different. 
 
 But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's 
 "sulk" had grown, like the gathering clouds of an 
 impending storm, into a big gloom that did not 
 lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left 
 alone in the library with their beloved "one thousand 
 and seventy-four" books. From over the edge of 
 "Vanity Fair" Robin watched anxiously the preoccu- 
 pation and shadow on Beryl's face. 
 
 (Oh, why had she changed that inside -out 
 stocking ! ) 
 
 "Beryl, what is the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing."
 
 THE LUCKLESS STOCKING 233 
 
 "There is. You won't read or talk or 
 anything." 
 
 "Well, I don't feel like it." 
 
 "What do you feel like inside ?" persisted Robin. 
 
 "Like nothing. Just like it." 
 
 "Beryl, are you discouraged about your music ?" 
 
 Robin put her finger so accurately upon the sore 
 spot that Beryl winced. Robin added : "You ought 
 not to be you're wonderful !" 
 
 "I'm not. You think so 'cause you don't know ! 
 I can't get something I used to have. I had it when 
 I played on Christmas night and oh, I felt as though 
 I'd always have it it just tingled in my fingers and 
 made my heart almost burst and then it went away. 
 I can't rouse it now. I don't even know what 
 made it come inside me. But I do know that I'm 
 as far away from what I want, really working and 
 getting ahead as I ever was. Further, way off here. 
 At least when I was in New York I had dear old 
 Jacques Henri to help me !" 
 
 Robin's book tumbled to the floor. She had an 
 odd feeling as though Beryl the first girl friend 
 she had ever had might be slipping away from her. 
 "You want to go back to New York?" she asked 
 stupidly. 
 
 "Of course, silly. There isn't anything, here." 
 
 "Then you ought to go. Beryl, you must go. 
 I'm going to give you the rest of the money what 
 I saved from the Queen's Christmas gift and and 
 my allowance. Oh, please, Beryl, don't look 
 like that!"
 
 234 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Thanks !" Beryl's voice rang cold. "But I'm 
 not reduced to charity, yet. Of course I've been 
 kidding myself that I earn all the money you pay me 
 for living here with a few clothes thrown in. 
 Don't think I don't know what those horrid creatures 
 at the Mills say about me being proud and too stuck- 
 up to work like Dale and the others. They even 
 taunt Dale. I hate myself when I think of it. And 
 all I'm earning wouldn't keep me very long if I ever 
 did go to study. Oh, I just hate hate hate being 
 poor!" Her voice broke in a great sob. 
 
 Robin wanted to throw her arms about her and 
 comfort her but she was afraid for Beryl looked like 
 a different being. And, while she hesitated, Beryl 
 flung herself out of the room. 
 
 Robin stared into the fire, little lines of worry 
 and perplexity wrinkling her face. Everything was 
 so stupidly hard ; no matter what she tried or wanted 
 to do she ran up against a wall of pride. Her poor 
 little treasured money that she had kept in the heart- 
 shaped box! If she had had it in her hands then 
 she would have thrown it into the fire. 
 
 Oh, for a chance to do something, give something 
 that could not be counted and spurned in dollars 
 and cents!
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 GRANNY 
 
 THOROUGHLY exhausted by the nervous strain of 
 the day before Robin slept late. When she awakened 
 it was to the alarming realization that Beryl was 
 not with her her bed was empty, the room deserted, 
 from the bathroom came no sound of splashing water, 
 with which Beryl usually emphasized her morn- 
 ing dip. 
 
 The unhappy happenings of the evening just past 
 flashed into Robin's mind. Beryl had not even said 
 good-night, had pretended to be asleep. What if 
 she had gone away from the Manor? 
 
 The thought was so upsetting that Robin dressed 
 in frantic haste, paying careful regard to her stock- 
 ings, however, and tumbled down the stairs, almost 
 upsetting Harkness and a tray of breakfast. 
 
 "Where's Beryl?" she demanded. 
 
 "Miss Beryl's gone, Missy. She got up early 
 and went off directly she had breakfast." 
 
 "Did she did she have a bag?" faltered poor 
 Robin. 
 
 "Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 
 'near as I can remember. Didn't she tell you she 
 was gomg?" 
 
 "Well not so early," Robin defended. 
 
 "If it's a quarrel, and young people fall out more 
 
 235
 
 236 RED-ROBIN 
 
 times 'n not, Missy, don't you feel badly. Miss 
 Beryl'll be back here, mark my words ! She's smart 
 enough to know when things are soft." 
 
 "Don't you ever, ever say that again, Harkness! 
 Beryl didn't want to stay here in the first place. 
 She's proud and she's fine and she had ambitions 
 that are grander than anything the rest of us ever 
 dreamed of. It's just because it is soft here that 
 she didn't want to stay. She thought she wasn't 
 really earning anything. I should think " and oh, 
 how her voice flayed poor trembling Harkness, "I 
 should think if you cared anything about me you'd 
 be dreadfully sorry to have me left alone here " 
 
 "Now, Missy ! Miss Robin ! Old Harkness'll go 
 straight down to the village and bring Miss Beryl " 
 
 Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm. "I 
 just said that to punish you. No, I'll be very lone- 
 some here but I will not send for Beryl. We'll get 
 along someway. If I only were not rich, everything 
 would go all right, wouldn't it, Mr. Harkness?" 
 
 "Well, I don't just get your meaning but I wilt 
 And I guess so, Missy. Arid now what do you 
 say to a bite of breakfast fetched hot from the 
 kitchen to your own sunny room?" 
 
 Robin knew she would break the old man's heart 
 if she refused his service so she climbed back up the 
 stairs to the sunny window of the deserted sitting- 
 room and awaited the tray of hot breakfast. And 
 as she sat there her eyes suddenly fell upon Cynthia,
 
 GRANNY 237 
 
 sitting straight among the cushions of the chaise 
 longue, staring at her with faded, unblinking eyes. 
 Beryl had not taken the doll ! 
 
 A great hurt pressed hard against Robin's throat. 
 Beryl had wanted to make her feel badly. But why 
 oh, what had she done? 
 
 "You can stay there, Cynthia. / won't touch 
 you," she cried, turning to the window, and at the 
 same time she registered the vow in her heart that 
 by no littlest word or act of hers should Beryl knovr 
 how her desertion had hurt her. 
 
 A week of stormy weather, which made the roads 
 almost impassable, helped Robin. She threw herself 
 into her studies with a determination almost as up- 
 setting to Percival Tubbs as her former indifference. 
 And when the studies were over she buried herself in 
 the great divan before the library fire with books 
 piled about her while Harkness hovered near at hand, 
 watching her with an anxious eye. 
 
 Robin did not always read the open page. Some- 
 times, holding it before her, she let her mind go over 
 word by word what Dale had said to her as they 
 walked home from the store. It had not been much, 
 to be sure, but it had been enough to make her feel 
 that her Prince had opened his heart to her, oh, just 
 a tiny bit. With her blessed powers of imagination 
 and with what Beryl had told her from time to time 
 concerning him, she could put everything together 
 into a beautiful picture.
 
 238 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Dale was splendid and brave he had not been 
 afraid of being poor! And he dreamed, too, like 
 Sir Galahad, but a dream of machinery. And he 
 had had a beautiful light in his face when he had 
 said that about his shoulders being broad enough to 
 support his family. Oh, Robin wished she could see 
 him in a scarlet coat like Sir Galahad wore in 
 the picture. 
 
 The snowstorm abating, Robin sent Williams to 
 the village with a basket of flowers for Mrs. Lynch 
 and fruit for big Danny, and Williams brought back 
 a tenderly grateful little note from Mrs. Lynch but 
 not a word from Beryl. 
 
 "Everything must be all right or she'd have told 
 me," Robin assured herself. "Anyway Mr. Norris 
 would be afraid to arrest anyone like Dale." 
 
 What Robin did not know for it was not likely 
 to disturb the Manor was that something far crueller 
 than Norris was claiming the anxiety of the Mill 
 workers. A malignant epidemic had lifted its ugly 
 head and had crept stealthily into several homes, 
 claiming its victims in more than one. Norris feared 
 an epidemic more than labor trouble ; unless it could 
 be quickly stamped out it gave the Mills a bad name 
 and made it difficult to get hands. So, at its first 
 appearance he called the Mill doctor into consultation, 
 and urged him to do everything in his power to check 
 the advance of the disease. 
 
 The Mill doctor, an overworked man, wanted to 
 tell Norris that it was a pity that the whole "old
 
 GRANNY 239 
 
 village" had not gone up in smoke, but he refrained 
 from doing so; instead spoke optimistically of the 
 weather being in their favor, and went away. 
 
 On an afternoon three weeks after Beryl's sudden 
 and inexplainable departure, the drowsy quiet of the 
 old Manor was broken by a shrill voice lifted in 
 frenzied protest against Harkness' deeper tones. It 
 brought Percival Tubbs from his nap, Mrs. Budge 
 from the pantry and Robin from the library. There 
 in the hall stood poor little Susy, her old cap pushed 
 back from her flaming cheeks, her eyes dark with 
 fright, struggling to escape from Harkness' tight 
 hold. 
 
 At sight of Robin her voice broke into a stran- 
 gling sob. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
 
 "She won't tell me her errand," explained 
 Harkness, looking like a guilty schoolboy caught in 
 a bully's act. 
 
 "Harkness, shame on you! Let her go," cried 
 Robin. 
 
 Freed from Harkness' hold Susy ran to Robin 
 and clasped her knees. She was shaking so violently 
 that she could do nothing more than make funny, 
 incoherent sounds which were lost in the folds of 
 Robin's skirt. 
 
 "See how you've frightened her! Susy-girl, 
 don't. Don't. You're with the big girl. Tell me, 
 what is the matter?" 
 
 Suddenly Susy pulled at Robin's hand and, still
 
 240 RED-ROBIN 
 
 sobbing, dragged her resolutely toward the door. 
 Robin caught something about "Granny." 
 
 "Something dreadful must have happened to 
 frighten her," Robin declared to the others. "Won't 
 you tell Robin, Susy? Do you want Robin to go 
 with you to Granny's?" 
 
 At this Susy nodded violently, but when Robin 
 moved to get her wraps she burst forth in renewed 
 wailing and clung tightly to Robin's hand. 
 
 "Harkness, please get my coat and hat and over- 
 shoes. I'm going back with Susy. Something's 
 happened " 
 
 "Miss Gordon, indeed, you better not " im- 
 plored Harkness. 
 
 "Hurry ! Haven't you tormented the poor child 
 enough ? Don't stand there like wood. If you don't 
 get my things at once I'll go bareheaded !" 
 
 Harkness went off muttering and Percival Tubbs 
 advanced a protest which Robin did not even hear, 
 so concerned was she in soothing poor Susy. 
 
 In a few moments she was hurrying down the 
 winding drive which led to the village, with difficulty 
 keeping up with Susy, leaving behind in the great 
 hall of the Manor an annoyed tutor, a worried butler 
 and an outraged housekeeper. 
 
 More than one on the village street turned to stare 
 at the strange little couple, Susy, pale with fright, 
 two spots of angry red burning her cheeks, running 
 as though possessed, and Robin limping after her
 
 GRANNY 241 
 
 with amazing speed and utterly indifferent to anyone 
 she met. 
 
 As they neared the old village Susy's pace sud- 
 denly slowed down and Robin took advantage of 
 that to ask her more concerning Granny. 
 
 "Granny's queer and all cold and she won't speak 
 to me, she won't!" Susy managed to impart be- 
 tween gasps. 
 
 A terrible fear gripped Robin. Perhaps Granny 
 was dead! And her apprehension was confirmed 
 when a neighbor of the Castles rushed out to head 
 her off. 
 
 "Don't go in there! Don't go in there!" she 
 cried, waving the shawl she had caught up to wrap 
 around her head. "They've got the sickness. The 
 old woman's dead. Tommy's staying at Welch's. 
 My man's reportin' it this mornin'. Poor old woman, 
 went off easy, I guess, but it's hard on the kid. Say, 
 Miss, you oughtn' get close to her. It's awful 
 catchin' and you c'n tell by the look o' her she's got 
 it, too." And the neighbor edged away from Susy. 
 
 In a sort of stupefied horror Robin looked at the 
 neighbor, the wretched house and Susy. Susy had 
 begun to cry again, quietly, and to tremble violently. 
 
 "Susy Castle, you go like a good girl into the 
 house n' stay 'til the doctor comes and takes you," 
 commanded the woman. "Don' you come near any- 
 one! Y' got the sickness! See y' shake!" 
 
 "Go 'way!" screamed Susy, clinging to Robin. 
 16
 
 242 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Robin pulled her fur from her throat and wrapped it 
 about the shivering, sobbing child. 
 
 "Yer takin' awful chances, miss just awful," 
 warned the neighbor, edging backward toward her 
 house with the air of having completed her duty. 
 "If y' take my advice you'll leave the kid there 'til 
 some'un comes. They'll likely take her t' the poor- 
 house!" And with this cheerful assumption she 
 slammed her door. 
 
 "There! There! Robin'll take you home. Don't 
 cry," begged Robin, kneeling in the path and encir- 
 cling poor little Susy in her arms. "We'll go back 
 to the big house and Robin'll make you nice 
 and warm." 
 
 "I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her 
 miserable little world rocking about her. 
 
 Robin straightened and looked at the house. 
 Granny was dead, the neighbor had said; nothing 
 more could be done for her. But something in the 
 desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy 
 window stuffed with its rags, smote Robin. Poor 
 Granny must have died all alone. No one had even 
 whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. 
 Robin knew little of death ; to her it had always meant 
 a beautiful passing to somewhere, with lovely flowers 
 and music and gentle grief. This was horribly 
 different there was no one left but little Susy and 
 she was going to take Susy away at once. Ought 
 she not to just go softly into that house and do
 
 GRANNY 243 
 
 something something kind and courteous that 
 Granny, somewhere above, might see and like? 
 
 "Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment." 
 She walked resolutely around to the door which 
 Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At the 
 threshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers 
 racing down her spine, catching her breath, bringing 
 out tiny beads of moisture on her forehead. She 
 had never seen a dead person had she the courage ? 
 
 She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring 
 straight ahead. In its centre she stopped and looked 
 slowly, slowly around as though dragging her gaze 
 to the object she dreaded across the littered table, 
 the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots 
 and pans, the dirty floor, an overturned chair, the 
 smoke-blackened lamp and last last to the bed. 
 There, amid the tumbled quilts, lay poor Granny. 
 
 Robin swallowed what she knew was her heart 
 and walked to the bed. "Granny," she said softly, 
 because she had to say something, then almost 
 screamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. 
 Strangely enough there was a smile on the worn, 
 thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robin 
 thought it had just come she liked to think it had 
 just come. It gave her courage. She smoothed the 
 dirty gray covers and folded them neatly across the 
 still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. 
 Then she looked about. Her eyes lit on the faded 
 pink flowers that still adorned the what-not. Moving
 
 244 RED-ROBIN 
 
 with frightened speed she caught them up and care- 
 fully laid them on Granny's breast. 
 
 "They were beautiful once and so was poor 
 Granny. Good-bye, Granny," she whispered, mov- 
 ing backward toward the door. Out in the air she 
 leaned for a moment weakly against the door jamb 
 then resolutely pulled herself together, and carefully 
 closed the door behind her. 
 
 Susy stood where she had left her. "Come, 
 Susy, let's hurry," Robin cried. Catching the child's 
 hand she broke into a run, wondering if she could 
 get back to the Manor before that dreadful sickening 
 thing inside of her quite overcame her. 
 
 But at that moment Williams appeared in the 
 automobile, jumped from the seat and caught Robin 
 just as she started to drop in a little heap to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Miss Robin!" he cried in alarm. 
 
 The feel of his strong arms and the warmth and 
 shelter of his great coat sent the life surging back 
 through Robin's veins. She laughed hysterically. 
 
 "Take us home, quick," she implored. And so 
 concerned was Williams that he made no protest at 
 lifting Susy into the car. 
 
 Both Harkness and Mrs. Budge, with different 
 feelings, were waiting Williams' return in the hall 
 of the Manor. Harkness, with real concern, (he 
 had despatched Williams) and Mrs. Budge with de- 
 fiance. She had just announced that she'd stood
 
 GRANNY 245 
 
 about as much as any woman "who'd give her whole 
 life to the Forsyths ought t' be expected to stand" 
 when Robin half -carried Susy into the Manor. 
 
 "Harkness, please Susy's very ill. Will you 
 carry her to my room and call the doctor?" 
 
 "You'll do no such thing while / stay in this 
 house," announced Mrs. Budge, stepping forward 
 and placing her bulk between Harkness and Susy. 
 "Bringing this fever what's in the village to this 
 house! Not if my name's Hannah Budge. We've 
 had just 'bout as much of these common carryings- 
 on as I'll stand for with Madame away and " 
 
 "But, oh, please, Mrs. Budge, Susy's very sick 
 and her grandmother's just died and she's all alone ! 
 Harkness, won't you?" 
 
 "Oh, Missy, I think Budge " began Harkness, 
 his eyes imploring. 
 
 Robin stamped her foot. 
 
 "Shame on you all! You're just afraid. Will 
 you call a doctor at least one of you? Get out of 
 my way !" And half carrying half dragging Susy, 
 Robin staggered to the stairs and slowly up them. 
 
 Poor Robin vaguely remembered Jimmie once 
 commanding Mrs. Ferrari to put one of her brood 
 into a tub of hot water into which he mixed mustard. 
 So Robin filled her gleaming tub with hot water and 
 quickly undressed Susy and put her, wailing, into it. 
 Then she rushed to the pantry, commandeered a 
 yellow box, fled back and dropped a generous portion
 
 246 RED-ROBIN 
 
 of its contents into the tub. Next she spread a soft 
 woolly blanket on her bed, wrapped another around 
 the child and rolled her in both until nothing but the 
 tip of a pink nose showed. 
 
 She found Harkness hovering outside in the hall 
 and ordered him to bring hot lemonade at once, 
 taking it a few minutes later from him through the 
 half -open door with a gleam of contempt in her eyes 
 which said plainly "Coward." She slowly fed Susy, 
 watching the child's face anxiously and wishing the 
 doctor would come quickly. 
 
 After an interminable time Dr. Brown came, a 
 little shaky, and gray-eyed and very concerned over 
 his call to the Manor. After a careful examination 
 he reported to Percival Tubbs and Harkness that 
 the child was, indeed, desperately ill ; that by no means 
 could she be moved although it was of course a pity 
 that Miss Forsyth had so impulsively brought her 
 to the Manor and thus exposed herself ; that the crisis 
 might come within the next twenty- four hours, for 
 evidently the disease was well advanced before the 
 grandmother succumbed ; that he would telegraph at 
 once for a fresh nurse from New York as tke one in 
 the village was at the breaking point from overwork ; 
 and that he, himself, would come back and stay with 
 the child through the night. 
 
 It was a most dreadful night for ereryone in the 
 Manor except Percival Tubbs, who had slipped 
 quietly to the station and taken the evening train
 
 GRANNY 247 
 
 to New York. Harkness sat outside of Robin's door, 
 his ear strained for the slightest sound within. And 
 Mrs. Budge worked far into the night writing a letter 
 to Cornelius Allendyce, commanding that gentleman 
 to come to the Manor and see for himself how 
 things were going and put an end, once and for all, 
 to the whole nonsense that she'd up and walk out if 
 it weren't for her loyalty to Madame Forsyth, a 
 loyalty sadly strained in the last few months. Of 
 course she did not write all this in just these same 
 words but she made her meaning very clear. 
 
 Behind the closed door Dr. Brown and Robin 
 fought for the little life. Only once the tired doctor 
 said more than a few words then it was to tell Robin 
 that she had shown remarkable judgment in her care 
 of Susy and that if the child pulled through it 
 would be due entirely to her prompt and thorough 
 action. This little thought helped Robin through the 
 long hours, when her weary eyelids stuck over her 
 hot, dry eyes and her head ached. All night she 
 willingly fetched and carried at the doctor's com- 
 mand, stepping noiselessly, sometimes lingering at the 
 foot of the bed to watch the little face for a sign 
 of change. 
 
 Far into the morning the vigil lasted. Then Dr. 
 Brown, his face haggard but his eyes shining, whis- 
 pered to Robin to go off downstairs and eat a good 
 breakfast that Susy was "better." 
 
 "You mean she'll get well?"
 
 248 RED-ROBIN 
 
 The doctor nodded. "I believe so. She's sleep- 
 ing now. Go, my dear." 
 
 Robin peeped at the child's face. The deadly 
 pallor and the purple flush of fever had gone, the 
 lips and eyelids had relaxed into the natural repose 
 of sleep. She tiptoed into the hall, deserted for the 
 moment, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. 
 Budge turned as she pushed open the door. 
 
 "I I " The warm, sweet smell of the room 
 sent everything dancing before Robin's eyes. She 
 reached out her hand as though groping for support. 
 "Oh, I " Then she crumpled into Mrs. Budge's 
 arms. 
 
 Now that faithful soul, having sent off her letter 
 to the lawyer-man, had given herself over to worry, 
 
 lest once more the "curse" was to visit the House of 
 Forsyth. Not that it could mean much to Madame, 
 for she hadn't set eyes on this girl Gordon, but it 
 gave her, Hannah Budge, a sick feeling "at the pit 
 of her stomach" to think of things going wrong 
 again! So when Robin just dropped into her arms 
 like a dead little thing she stood as one stunned, 
 passively awaiting a relentless Fate. 
 
 "Quick she's fainted. Let me take her ! Fetch 
 water," ordered Harkness. 
 
 "Fetch it yourself! I guess I can hold her!" 
 retorted Budge, tightening her clasp. And as sho, 
 looked down at Robin she remembered how Robin 
 kad kissed her on Christmas night. Something
 
 GRANNY 249 
 
 within her that was hard like rock commenced to 
 soften and soften and grow warm and glow all 
 through her. Her eyes filled with tears and because 
 both hands were occupied and she could not wipe 
 them away, she shook her head and two bright drops 
 rolled down her cheeks into Robin's face. At that 
 moment even before Harkness brought his water 
 Robin stirred and opened her eyes and smiled. 
 
 "Oh where am I? Oh yes. Oh, I'm so 
 hungry!" 
 
 But Budge was certain Robin was desperately 
 ill; under her direction Harkness carried her to 
 Madame's own room while Mrs. Budge followed with 
 blankets and a hot water bottle. At noon the nurse 
 arrived from New York, and that evening the word 
 spread to every corner of Wassumsic that little Miss 
 Forsyth had the "sickness."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 
 
 ROBIN had done something: that couldn't be 
 counted or spurned in dollars and cents. 
 
 From door to door in the village the story spread ; 
 how Robin had gone into the stricken cottage which 
 even the neighbors shunned, and had performed a 
 last little act (and the only one) of respect for poor 
 old Granny, then, with her own fur around the child'C 
 neck, had taken Susy back to the Manor. The doctor 
 told of Robin's sensible care and how ably she had 
 shared with him the night's long vigil. The story 
 was told and re-told with little embellishments and 
 often tears ; the girls in the Mill repeated each detail 
 of it over their lunches, the men talked about it in 
 low tones as they walked homeward. 
 
 And Robin's little service had a remarkable effect 
 upon the Mill people. Tongues that had been most 
 bitter against the House of Forsyth suddenly wagged 
 loudest in Robin's praise; some boldly foretold the 
 beginning of a "better day." All felt the stirring of 
 a certain, all-promising belief that a Forsyth, even 
 though a small one "cared." 
 
 But what was to be the cost, they asked one an- 
 other,, with anxious faces? 
 
 Upon hearing that Robin herself was ill, Beryl 
 had rushed to the Manor, in an agony of fear. Robin 
 
 260
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 251 
 
 mustn't be sick she couldn't die ! It was too dread- 
 ful She ought never to have gone into Granny 
 Castle's house or touched Susy. 
 
 Among the books Robin loved so well Beryl 
 waited in a dumb misery for hours, for some word. 
 Harkness only shook his old head at her and Mrs. 
 Budge ignored her. Finally, standing the suspense 
 as long as she could she crept to the stairs and up 
 them and in the hall above encountered a cherry- 
 faced white-garbed young woman. 
 
 "May I see Robin, please?" she implored 
 desperately. 
 
 The young woman looked at her, hesitating. 
 "Are you Beryl ?" she asked. Beryl nodded. "Then 
 you may go in for a few moments but don't let that 
 old man and woman know they've been hounding 
 me to let them see her and I've refused flatly." 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much. There's something I 
 have to tell Robin before " Beryl simply could not 
 say it. She closed her lips with tragic meaning. 
 
 The nurse stared at her a moment with a hint 
 of a laugh in her eyes, then nodded toward the door. 
 
 "Second door, there. Only a minute!" And 
 then she went on. 
 
 Beryl opened the door, softly, her heart pounding 
 against her ribs. What if Robin were too ill to talk, 
 to even listen 
 
 Beryl had never seen Madame's bed room. It 
 took a moment for her to single out the great canopied
 
 252 RED-ROBIN 
 
 bed from the other mammoth furnishings or to take 
 in the small figure that occupied the exact centre 
 of that bed. 
 
 "Beryl!" came a glad cry and Beryl stared in 
 amazement for the little creature who smiled at her 
 from a pile of soft pillows looked like anything but 
 a sick person ; the vivid hair glowed with more alive- 
 ness than ever, a pink, like the inner heart of a rose, 
 tinted the creamy skin. A tray remained on a low 
 table by the bed, its piled dishes indicative of a feast. 
 Beryl's amazed eyes flashed last to these then back 
 to Robin's smiling face. 
 
 "Oh, Beryl, I'm so glad, glad you came !" Robin 
 reached out her arms and Beryl rushed into them, 
 clasping her own close about Robin. 
 
 "I I thought you were dreadfully sick," she 
 gasped, at last. She drew back and looked at Robin 
 accusingly. "Everyone thinks you're dreadfully 
 sick." 
 
 "Then I suppose I ought to be," laughed Robin, 
 "I'm not, though, I never felt better in my life. But, 
 oh, right after I knew Susy would get well everything 
 inside of me seemed to break into little pieces. Then 
 that nice Miss San ford came and put me to bed and 
 nursed and petted and fed me and here I am. She 
 says I cannot get up until tomorrow. I'm so anxious 
 to see Susy !" 
 
 Beryl, still holding Robin's hand, stared off into 
 space, uncomfortably. She had come to the Manor
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 253 
 
 to tell Robin (before Robin should die) that she 
 had been a mean, selfish, ungrateful thing to run 
 away from the Manor the way she had done and 
 stay away and to beg for Robin's forgiveness. 
 Now she found it difficult to say all this to a pinky, 
 glowing Robin, and Robin, instinctively guessing 
 what was passing in Beryl's mind, made her plea 
 for forgiveness unnecessary by asking, with a 
 tight squeeze of Beryl's hand: "You won't go 
 away, again?" 
 
 "No at least if you want me if " she 
 stumbled. 
 
 "// I want you Beryl Lynch! It was too 
 dreadful living here all alone with only Mr. Tubbs 
 and Harkness and Mrs. Budge. But, Beryl, I think 
 maybe everything will be different now; the first 
 thing I knew after I fainted was that Mrs. Budge was 
 crying! Think of it, Beryl, crying and over me! 
 And Mr. Tubbs ran away." 
 
 "Really, truly?" 
 
 "Yes the poor thing was scared silly. He didn't 
 tell a soul he was going and after he reached New 
 York he telephoned." 
 
 "Dale says everyone at the Mills is talking about 
 you, Robin and what you did." 
 
 "Why," Robin's face sobered, "I didn't do 
 anything." 
 
 "Well, Dale says your going in to poor old 
 Granny the way you did has made everyone like
 
 254 RED-ROBIN 
 
 you. And they were getting awfully worked tip 
 against the Forsyths and the Mills. I will admit 
 it seems funny to me making such a fuss over such 
 a little thing. I wish as long as you're all right 
 now you had done something real heroic, like jump- 
 ing into the river to save someone or going into a 
 burning building." 
 
 "Oh, I'd have never had the courage to do that," 
 protested Robin, shuddering. 
 
 At that moment the nurse put her head in the door. 
 
 "Three minutes are up," she warned. 
 
 "Please, can't she stay?" begged Robin, in alarm. 
 
 "I must go home, anyway, Robin, to tell mother. 
 You have no idea how anxious she is everyone is. 
 People hang around our door. I suppose they think 
 we have the latest news about you. Well, we have, 
 now. And, Robin mother was awfully angry about 
 my leaving you the way I did. She begged me to 
 come back, long ago. I'm sorry, now, I didn't. 
 Good-bye, Robin. I'll be back, to-morrow." 
 
 Beryl walked to the village in a deep absorption 
 of thought. Certain values she had fostered had 
 tumbled about and had to be put in order. Here 
 were not only hundreds of mill folk making a "fuss" 
 over what Robin had done, but the household of 
 the Manor as well old Budge, usually as adamant 
 as a brick wall, crying! No one loved the heroic 
 more than Beryl, but to her thinking it lay in a 
 spectacular, and with a dramatic indifference, risking
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 255 
 
 one's own life for another, not in a little unnecessary 
 sentimental impulse. When she had heard of what 
 Robin had done she had declared her "crazy" to 
 go near the Castles, to which her mother had indig- 
 nantly replied : "And are you thinking the blessed 
 child ever thinks of herself at all?" That was the 
 quality, of course, about Robin that you never guessed 
 from anything she said but that you just felt. And 
 the Mill people were feeling it now. 
 
 Turning these thoughts over and over, Beryl 
 suddenly faced the disturbing conviction that she 
 was moulding her own young life on very opposite 
 lines. Tell herself as often as she liked and it was 
 often that she'd had to fight to get everything she 
 had and to keep it, she knew that it never crossed 
 her mind to ask herself what she was giving to 
 Dale, who carried a double burden, to poor big Danny, 
 to her brave little mother who had sheltered her so 
 valiantly from the coarsening things about her that 
 she might keep "fine" and have "fine" things. 
 
 The next day the nurse let Robin dress, to poor 
 Harkness' tearful delight. And Robin, roaming the 
 house as though she had returned to it from a long 
 absence, found, indeed, the change she had prophe- 
 sied. For Mrs. Budge, in strangely genial mood, 
 was fussily preparing more delectable invalid dishes 
 than a dozen convalescing Susies or well Robins could 
 possibly eat. 
 
 One little cloud, howerer, shadowed Budge's
 
 256 RED-ROBIN 
 
 relief. She wished she hadn't sent the letter to the 
 lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how my grand- 
 mother always said to look out for the written word, 
 and held my tongue," she mourned and so complete 
 was her transformation that she forgot she had 
 written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty 
 to the Forsyths as she had seen it then. 
 
 Upon this new order of things Cornelius Allen- 
 dyce arrived, unheralded, and very tired from a long 
 journey. Budge's letter had been forwarded to him 
 at Miami where he had been pleasantly recuperating 
 from his siege of sciatica. It had disturbed him 
 tremendously, and he had spent the long hours on 
 the railroad train upbraiding himself for his neglect 
 of his ward. The conditions at which Budge had 
 clumsily hinted grew more serious as he thought of 
 them, until he found himself wondering if perhaps 
 he ought not to smuggle his little ward back to her 
 fifth-floor home before Madame discovered the havoc 
 she had made of the Forsyth traditions. 
 
 Outwardly, the Manor appeared the same, to the 
 lawyer's intense relief. Within, the most startling 
 change seemed the laughing voices that floated out 
 to him from the library. Harkness took his coat 
 and hat and bag a little excitedly and with repeated 
 nods toward the library. 
 
 "Miss Robin'll be mighty glad to see you, I'm 
 sure; but she has a lydy guest for dinner." 
 
 "The man actually acts as though I had no right
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 257 
 
 to come unannounced," thought Cornelius Allendyce. 
 
 Robin met him with a rush and a glad little 
 cry. "I thought you were never, never coming! 
 I'm so glad. But why didn't you send us word? 
 I want you to know Beryl's mother and Beryl. 
 They're my best friends. And, oh, I have so much 
 to tell you!" 
 
 "Mrs. Lynch !" A line of Budge's letter flashed 
 across the man's mind, yet he found himself talking 
 to a gentle-faced woman with grave eyes and a tender, 
 merry mouth. And Beryl (whom Budge had called 
 "that young person") did not seem at all coarse or 
 unwholesome. He did not notice that the clothes 
 both wore were simple and inexpensive he only 
 registered the impression that the mother seemed 
 quiet and refined and the girl had a frank honesty 
 in her face that was most pleasing. 
 
 Robin, indeed, had so much to tell him that he 
 made no effort to get "head or tail" to it; rather he 
 lost himself in wonder at the change in his little 
 ward. This spirited, assured young person could not 
 be the same little thing he had left months ago. 
 She'd actually grown, too. 
 
 He laughed at Robin's description of the deser- 
 tion of Percival Tubbs. 
 
 "Poor man, I guess I'd driven him crazy, any- 
 way. I simply couldn't learn the lessons he gave me. 
 But, oh, I haven't wasted my time, truly, for I've 
 gotten more out of these precious books here than 
 17
 
 258 RED-ROBIN 
 
 I ever got out of school. Guardian dear, they've 
 made me grow. I don't think my pretend stories 
 any more, either. I can't seem to, for everything 
 about me is so real and so big and so so important." 
 Robin imparted this information with a serious note 
 in her voice as though she feared her guardian 
 might be sorry that she had put her childish "pre- 
 tends" behind her. 
 
 "Dear me," he said, "then we won't know 
 ^vhether you meet the Prince in the last chapter and 
 live happily ever after? You have grown up; I 
 can't get used to it." 
 
 Robin blushed furiously at this and changed the 
 subject lest her guardian could glimpse under her 
 flaming hair and guess the one pretty "pretend" 
 she still cherished. 
 
 While the girls were upstairs Mrs. Lynch told 
 Cornelius Allendyce the story of Susy, and Robin's 
 visit to the old house. She told it simply but in 
 its every detail so that Robin's guardian could follow 
 it very closely. He listened, with his eyes dropped to 
 the rug at his feet, and for a few moments he kept 
 them there, so that Mrs. Lynch wondered if he were 
 angry. Then suddenly he looked at her and a smile 
 broke over his face. 
 
 "Our little girl's letting down a few barriers, 
 isn't she ?" he asked, and Mrs. Lynch, understanding 
 him with her quick instinct, nodded with bright eyes. 
 
 "Ah, 'tis true as true what my old Father Murphy
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 259 
 
 once said to me that wealth is what you give, not 
 what you get!" 
 
 The most amazing thing to the lawyer in the new 
 order was the cheerful importance, and the new 
 geniality of Hannah Budge. Accustomed as he was, 
 from long acquaintance with the family, to her sour 
 nature, he caught himself watching her now in a sort 
 of unbelief. He understood her attentiveness to his 
 comfort when she touched his arm and begged a 
 word with him. 
 
 "It's about that letter," she whispered, her eyes 
 rolling around for any possible eavesdropper. "I'll 
 ask you not to tell Miss Gordon nor Timothy 
 Harkness. I'm old and new ways are new ways 
 but I'll serve Miss Gordon as I've always served 
 the Forsyths." 
 
 A dignity in the old housekeeper's surrender 
 touched Cornelius Allendyce. He patted her 
 shoulder and told her not to worry about the letter; 
 to be sure it had spoiled a rather nice golf match 
 but he ought to have run up to Wassumsic 
 long before. 
 
 "The little girl I found isn't such a bad Forsyth, 
 after all?" he could not resist asking her, however. 
 But Harkness, appearing at that moment, spared 
 Mrs. Budge the unaccustomed humiliation of ad- 
 mitting she had been wrong. 
 
 After dinner Robin persuaded her guardian to 
 walk with them to the village while they escorted
 
 260 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Mother Lynch" home, and then stop at the House 
 of Laughter. There, Beryl lighted the lamps and 
 Robin led a tour of inspection through the rooms, 
 telling her guardian as they went, of her beautiful 
 plans and their failure. At a warning sign from 
 Beryl she regretfully left out the generous contribu- 
 tion of their mysterious Queen of Altruria. Most 
 of the furniture, she explained, had come from the 
 Manor garrets. 
 
 While they were talking a knock sounded at the 
 door. Robin opened it to find Sophie Mack and 
 three companions standing on the threshold. 
 
 "Mrs. Lynch said she thought you were up here," 
 Sophie explained, awkwardly. "We're getting up a 
 social club and we want to know if you'll let us 
 meet here." 
 
 "Of course you can meet here!" Robin made 
 no effort to control the surprise in her voice. "That's 
 what this little house is for." 
 
 "Maybe you'll join, sometime. As an honorary 
 member or something like that " one of Sophie's 
 companions broke in. 
 
 "Oh, I'd love to." 
 
 "We want to pay, you know," persisted Sophie. 
 
 "Of course anything you think you can." 
 
 The girls, refusing Robin's invitation to go into 
 the cottage, turned and went back to the village. 
 Robin closed the door and leaned against it with a 
 long-drawn breath of delight. 
 
 "Guardian dear, that's the beginning. Dale's
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 261 
 
 right they'll use it, if I let them pay. Why are 
 you laughing at me?" 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce's face sobered. He drew the 
 girl to him. 
 
 "I'm not laughing. I'm only marvelling at the 
 leaps and bounds with which your education has gone 
 forward. Some people die at an old age without 
 acquiring one smallest part of the human under- 
 standing you are learning through these notions 
 of yours." 
 
 Robin made a little face. "Notions ! Beryl calls 
 them 'crazy ideas.' Someone else called them an 
 'experiment.' Dear Mother Lynch is the only one 
 who really believes in what I want to do. You see, 
 I just want the people here to think that a Forsyth 
 cares whether they're happy or not. Dale says I 
 didn't start right and maybe I didn't but anyway " 
 She nodded toward the door as though Sophie 
 might still be on the threshold, "they're a beginning !" 
 
 Her guardian did not answer this and looked so 
 strange that Robin went no further in her confidences. 
 Perhaps something had displeased him, she must wait 
 until some other time to tell him about Dale and his 
 model and her visit to Frank Norris. 
 
 Back in the library, before the crackling fire, 
 Robin begged Beryl to play for her guardian. 
 
 "She's wonderful," she whispered while Beryl 
 was getting the violin. "She makes you feel all 
 funny inside." 
 
 Beryl stood in the shadow and played. Robin,
 
 262 RED-ROBIN 
 
 watching her guardian, thrilled with satisfaction when 
 the man's face betrayed that he, too, felt "all funny 
 inside" under the magic of Beryl's bow. 
 
 "Come here, my girl," he commanded when Beryl 
 stopped. He bent a searching look upon her. 
 "Come here and sit down and tell me about yourself." 
 
 "Didn't I say she's wonderful?" chirped Robin, 
 triumphantly. 
 
 The lawyer's adroit questioning brought out 
 Beryl's story of the simple home in the tenement 
 from which her mother shut out all that was coarsen- 
 ing and degrading, stirring her child's mind and her 
 tastes with dreams she persistently cherished against 
 disheartening odds ; of the Belgian musician who had 
 first taught her small fingers and fired her ambitions 
 for only the best in the art ; of school and the lessons 
 she devoured because she craved knowledge and the 
 advantages of possessing it. 
 
 "How long have you lived here?" 
 
 "We came last summer. Dale wanted to work 
 where there were machines and he got a job in the 
 Forsyth Mills." 
 
 "You are planning to go back to New York 
 and study?" 
 
 Beryl's face clouded. "Sometime. But I can't 
 until I earn the money, and it takes such a lot." 
 
 "Yes, and courage, too," added the lawyer softly, 
 as though he were speaking to himself. 
 
 Beryl abruptly lifted her violin from her lap to 
 put it in the case. As she did so, its head caught
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 263 
 
 in the string of green beads which, in honor of the 
 occasion, she was wearing. The slender cord that 
 held them snapped and the pretty beads scattered over 
 the floor. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" cried Beryl, dismayed, dropping to 
 her knees to find them. 
 
 Robin helped her search and in a few moments 
 they had gathered them all. 
 
 "They're only beads but they're very old and a 
 keepsake," Beryl explained, in apology for her mo- 
 ment's alarm. 
 
 "They're pretty and they're darling on you!" 
 
 "A wonderful color." The lawyer took one and 
 examined it. "If you care for them you'd better 
 let me take them back to New York with me and 
 have them strung on a wire that will not break." 
 
 "Oh, let him, Beryl. And he can have a 
 good clasp put on. You know you said that clasp 
 was poor." 
 
 Beryl hesitated a moment. Ought she to tell him 
 the beads were her mother's and that her mother 
 prized them dearly? No, he might laugh at anyone's 
 caring a fig about just plain beads. She took the 
 envelope Robin brought her, dropped the beads into 
 it, sealed it, and gave it to Robin's guardian. 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce slept little that night. He 
 laid it to the extreme quiet of the hills; in reality 
 his head whirled with the amazing impressions that 
 had been forced upon him. 
 
 "Extraordinary!" he muttered, staring at the
 
 264 RED-ROBIN 
 
 night light. And he repeated it again and again; 
 once, when he thought of the little woman, Mrs. 
 Lynch, with the dreaming eyes which seemed to 
 see beyond things. What was the absurd thing she 
 had said? " 'Tis what you give and not what you 
 get is wealth." Extraordinary! And where had 
 Robin picked up these notions concerning the Mill 
 people? And her House of What-did-she-call-it ? 
 There was considerable significance about it. Un- 
 canny, downright uncanny, though, for a girl her age 
 to have such a far-reaching vision. Probably the 
 child didn't realize, herself. Well, there was Jeanne 
 d'Arc, and others, too, he pondered, hazily. And 
 this talented girl Robin had found a most unusual 
 girl, who'd grown up in a tenement like a flower 
 among weeds, yes, he'd seen such flowers growing 
 amid rankest vegetation ! She was not unlike Robin, 
 herself. His mind circled to Robin's own little 
 fifth-floor nest and the horrible odors of that dark 
 stairway. Strange, extraordinary, that these two 
 lives had crossed. "This world's a queer world!" 
 Both girls brought up in a poverty that denied them 
 all those jolly sort of advantages young girls liked, 
 and yet each sheltered by a mother's great love from 
 the things in poverty that coarsen and hurt. "Aye, 
 a mother's love," and the little lawyer thought of 
 "Mother Lynch" with something very akin to rever- 
 ence ; and of Jimmie, too, poor Jimmie, who, in his 
 stumbling, mistaken way, had tried to give a mother's 
 love to Robin.
 
 ROBIN'S BEGINNING 265 
 
 But suddenly the man aroused from his absorbed 
 philosophizing and sat bolt upright in bed. All right 
 to think about letting down barriers whose barriers 
 were they? Proud old Madame loved those barriers 
 and she'd never accept, as Budge had, what Budge 
 called the "new ways." What then? "There'll be 
 a reckoning " 
 
 With a sharp little exclamation of annoyance the 
 distraught guardian drew his watch from under his 
 pillow and held it to the tiny shaft of light. "Half- 
 past-one !" Well, he did not need to cross that bridge 
 until he came to it ! He dug his tired head into his 
 pillow and went to sleep to dream of Madame Forsyth 
 and Robin and Jeanne d'Arc sitting in a social club 
 at the House of Laughter.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AT TBTE GRANGER MILLS 
 
 "*3 REALI Y think, little Miss Robin, that you ought 
 logo." 
 
 "Why, I should think you'd be crazy to go!" 
 
 "If I may be so hold's to remind you, the man is 
 waiting for an answer." 
 
 Robin looked from her guardian's face to Beryl's 
 to Harkness'. 
 
 "You're all conspiring against me, I do believe !" 
 she cried. "I'll go if you say I ought to, but I just 
 hate to. I don't want to meet the young people, 
 there. And I'm dreadfully afraid of Mrs. Granger 
 since Susy spoiled her dress." 
 
 "Mrs. Granger was one of your Aunt Mathilde's 
 closest friends until the death of young Christopher. 
 Then, in the strange mood your aunt encouraged, she 
 let the intimacy drop. I've often wondered if the 
 Grangers did not resent that. You have an oppor- 
 tunity now, Robin, to restore the old terms between 
 the two families, so that when your aunt returns 
 she will find the old tie awaiting her." 
 
 Robin stared, wide-eyed, at her guardian. It was 
 the first time he had spoken of her aunt's return. 
 
 "When is my aunt coming back? Do you know 
 I never think of her coming back ? Isn't that dread- 
 ful? I know she won't like me " 
 266
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 267 
 
 "Don't let's worry about that now," broke in 
 Cornelius Allendyce with suspicious haste. And 
 Harkness, standing stiffly by the table, waiting in- 
 structions, fell suddenly to rearranging the books and 
 magazines which had been in perfect order. 
 
 Mrs. Granger's chauffeur had brought a note to 
 the Manor asking Robin to make them a few days' 
 visit during the coming week. "My son and daughter 
 have some young people here and you will find it 
 a lively change from the quiet of your aunt's" 
 
 Robin used her last argument. "But you've 
 only been here for a few days, guardian dear. And 
 there's a lot more I want to tell you oh, that's 
 very important." 
 
 "Can't it watt until I come again? I'd have to 
 go back to New York to-morrow, my dear, anyway. 
 Come, this little visit of yours is as necessary to your 
 education as a Forsyth as any of Mr. Tubbs' tire- 
 some lessons. And then, as I said, you can win 
 back my lady Granger's affection." 
 
 "Well, I'll go," cried Robin, in such a miserable 
 voice that Beryl gave her a little shake. 
 
 Beryl saw in the visit all kinds of adventure. 
 First, Robin must keep her eyes open and determine 
 whether Miss Alicia Granger still mourned for young 
 Christopher or whether she was faithless to his 
 memory. Then there'd be the young people, prob- 
 ably from New York, with all kinds of new clothes 
 and new slang and new stories of that happy whirl
 
 268 RED-ROBIN 
 
 in which Beryl fancied all young people of wealth 
 lived. And then there was the son, Tom. And 
 Robin could wear the white and silver georgette dress. 
 
 "I wish it were you going instead of me," Robin 
 mourned, not at all encouraged by Beryl's enthusiasm. 
 "You're so tall and pretty, Beryl, and can always 
 think of things to say." 
 
 There shone, however, one bright ray in all the 
 gloom the Granger home, Harkness had said, was 
 only a mile from the Granger Mills. Adam Kraus 
 and Dale had spoken of the Granger Mills as though 
 they were almost perfect. She wanted to see them, 
 at least, on the outside. 
 
 With a heart so heavy that she scarcely noticed 
 the sheen of soft green with which the early spring 
 had dressed the hills, Robin arrived at Wyckham, 
 the Granger home, at tea time. She was only con- 
 scious of a wide, low door, level with the bricked 
 terrace, flanked by stone seats ; that this door opened 
 and revealed a circle of merry-voiced young people 
 gathered around a great fireplace. As the impressive 
 under-butler took her bags from Williams one of 
 the group rose quickly and came toward her. She 
 was very tall and slender with an oval-shaped face and 
 a prominent nose like Mrs. Granger's. Robin knew 
 she was Miss Alicia. She answered something un- 
 intelligible to Miss Alicia's informal greeting and 
 let herself be drawn into the circle. 
 
 There were four girls, ranging in age anywhere
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 269 
 
 from sixteen to twenty three very pretty, obviously 
 conscious of their modish garments and wanting 
 everyone else to be conscious of them, too; another, 
 Rosalyn Crane, tall and tanned and strong in limb 
 and shoulder, with frank dark eyes and red lips which 
 smiled and displayed regular, gleaming-white teeth. 
 Robin liked her best, and Rosalyn Crane felt this and 
 promptly tucked Robin under her wing. 
 
 For the next several hours life moved forward 
 for Robin at such a dizzying pace that she felt as 
 though she were sitting apart from her body and 
 watching her flesh-and-bones do things they had 
 never dreamed of doing before; the noisy tea-circle, 
 the room she shared with the nice girl, the casual 
 welcome from Mrs. Granger, the georgette and silver 
 dress and the silver slippers that matched, the beauti- 
 ful drawing room so alive with color and jollity, the 
 long table gleaming with crystal and silver, the voices, 
 voices, (everyone's but hers) the bare shoulders and 
 the bright eyes and the red, red cheeks, the Japanese 
 servants, velvet- footed, the big, hot-house straw- 
 berries, music and dancing, (everyone dancing but 
 her) and then, at last, bed. 
 
 Out of the whirl stood two pleasant moments: 
 one when Mr. Granger had spoken to her, the 
 other Tom. 
 
 Mr. Granger had a kind face, all criss-crossed 
 with fine lines that curved up when he smiled. He 
 patted her on the shoulder and said: "A Forsyth
 
 270 RED-ROBIN 
 
 girl, eh?" and made Robin feel that he liked her. 
 And she was not afraid of him and answered easily 
 and not in the tongue-tied way she spoke to Miss 
 Alicia and her friends. 
 
 And Tom Granger looked like his father. He 
 had a jolly way of talking, too, and talked mostly 
 to Rosalyn Crane. He had sat between her and 
 Robin at dinner and had made Robin feel quite 
 comfortable by acting as though they were old ac- 
 quaintances and did not need to keep up a fire of 
 banter like the others. 
 
 The next morning Robin came downstairs to 
 find the house deserted except for the noiseless butlers 
 who stared at her as though she were some strange 
 freak. Apparently no one stirred before noon, for 
 Tom, coming in from the garage, greeted her with 
 a pleasant : "Say, you're an early bird, aren't you?" 
 and then directed one of the butlers to bring her 
 some breakfast in the sun-room. 
 
 "You've got some sense. Al's crowd will miss 
 half of this glorious day!" he commented, leading 
 Robin into a glass-enclosed room, in the centre of 
 which splashed a jolly fountain. 
 
 Tom sat with her while she ate the breakfast 
 the Jap brought on a lacquered tray. He kept up 
 a fire of breezy talk just as though she were the nice 
 Rosalyn Crane. It was mostly about the baseball 
 nine at Hotchkiss, of which he was manager, and 
 the new golf holes and an inter-school swimming
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 271 
 
 match and such things, concerning which poor Robin 
 knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that 
 Robin did not feel in the least shy or awkward. 
 
 "Say, don't you want to go with me while I try 
 out my new car? The road toward Cornwall is 
 good and I've bet that I can get her up to sixty. 
 Great morning, too. Are you game?" 
 
 Robin felt game for anything that would take her 
 away from Miss Alicia's friends except Rosalyn. 
 Tom took her back to the garage and tucked her 
 into half of the low seat and climbed in beside her. 
 
 For the next two hours they tore back and forth 
 over the Cornwall road at a pace that caught Robin's 
 breath in her throat. Occasionally Tom talked, but 
 most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes 
 on the road ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, 
 as though the innocent stretch of macadam was prey 
 for his vengeance. 
 
 Just outside of the town he slowed the car down 
 to a snail's pace. 
 
 "Some baby, isn't she?" he asked and at Robin's 
 perplexed eyes he went off into rollicking laughter. 
 "Why she eats the road! Dad said I couldn't get 
 it out of her. I'll tell the world. Whew !" 
 
 Robin sat forward, suddenly alert. 
 
 "Are those the Mills?" 
 
 "Yep." 
 
 They were not so very unlike the Forsyth Mills 
 brick walls, dust, dirt, smoke, towering chimneys.
 
 272 RED-ROBIN 
 
 and noise, noise. But beyond them and the river 
 were rows of neat little white cottages, each with a 
 yard, already green. 
 
 "Best mills in New England. But Dad's prouder 
 of his model village as Mother calls those cottages 
 over there than of his profit sheet. And look at 
 the school Dad wanted a school good enough for 
 his own son and daughter, but Mother wouldn't let 
 us go. I wish she had I'll bet there's enough good 
 batting material right in this town to whip every 
 nine in this part of the country. There's Dad's 
 library, too " 
 
 But Robin did not heed the direction of his nod. 
 She had suddenly seen something that made her heart 
 leap into her throat; Adam Kraus walking into the 
 office building carrying the square box with the 
 leather handles, which she knew contained Dale's 
 model. He was taking it to Mr. Granger. 
 
 A panic gripped Robin. She must do something 
 to save that model for the Forsyth Mills she did 
 not know just what, but something 
 
 "Stop, oh, stop. Couldn't I see your father? 
 I'd like to." 
 
 Tom looked puzzled, but good-naturedly turned 
 the car. Robin climbed out with amazing speed. 
 
 "Take me to his office, oh, please take me," she 
 begged, with such earnestness that Tom wondered if 
 she'd gone "clean dotty." 
 
 Inside the office building there was no sign of
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 273 
 
 Adam Kraus, for the reason, though Robin did not 
 know it, that it was his second visit; he was there 
 by appointment, and he had used a stairway that 
 led directly to Mr. Granger's office, while Tom took 
 Robin through the main office where a neatly dressed 
 girl blocked their way. 
 
 Mr. Granger was busy but the young lady could 
 wait, this efficient young person informed them, quite 
 indifferent to the fact that she addressed Thomas 
 Granger and Gordon Forsyth. And Robin walked 
 into an enclosure, half consulting room, half waiting 
 room, and sat down with fast beating heart, upon 
 .a leather and mahogany chair. 
 
 "I'll wait out here 'til you see Dad," Tom told 
 her, to her relief, and she heard him telling one of 
 the clerks how his "baby" could make sixty as easy 
 
 Suddenly Robin took in other voices, one deep, 
 one soft and drawling. A door at the end of the 
 room stood half -open. She leaned toward it, 
 alertly listening. 
 
 "And you say this invention is your own, Kraus ? 
 Have you your patents?" 
 
 "My applications have all gone in and I have 
 some of the patents. Yes, sir, it's my own." 
 
 "Doran reported very favorably. With one or 
 two changes suppose we find Doran, now." There 
 came the sound of a chair scraping backward. "Oh, 
 the model will be quite safe here. I want Doran 
 to point out one or two things on our new loom. It 
 
 18
 
 274 RED-ROBIN 
 
 will only take a moment. Then we'll bring him 
 back here." 
 
 Oh, would they come out through the waiting- 
 room thought Robin, shrinking back. And what 
 had Adam Kraus said? 
 
 But Mr. Granger had opened another door 
 Robin heard it close. She stepped noiselessly toward 
 that half-open door at the end of the room. Her 
 head was clear, her heart atingle. 
 
 He, Adam Kraus, had dared to say the invention 
 was his! The wicked man, the traitor to betray 
 Dale's trust, his friendship! 
 
 The office was quite empty. And on the big 
 desk, amid a litter of papers and letters and books 
 and ledgers, stood the little model in its clumsy box. 
 
 Robin caught it up and held it close to her, defi- 
 antly. She snatched a pencil and scrawled a few 
 lines on the back of an envelope, then she tiptoed 
 out into the consulting office and on through the 
 main office. Tom was waiting at the end of the 
 room. It seemed to Robin as though hundreds of 
 eyes accused her; in reality only a few lifted from 
 the work of the day to stare at the young girl Tom 
 Granger had brought to see his father. And if 
 anyone wondered why she carried the queer box, 
 no one of them was likely to presume to question 
 any friend of the Grangers. 
 
 "Did y'see Dad?" But Tom, to Robin's relief,
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 275 
 
 took that for granted and turned back to his acquaint- 
 ance among the clerks. 
 
 "I'll take you out with me and prove it to you!" 
 
 Robin wanted to beg Tom to run but she did 
 not dare. He asked to carry the box and she let 
 him, for fear, if she refused, he might suspect some- 
 thing. Queer shivers raced up and down her spine 
 and a dreadful sinking feeling attacked her heart 
 and dragged at her throat so that she could 
 scarcely speak. 
 
 He helped her into the car and climbed in himself. 
 He leisurely experimented with the gears, until Robin 
 almost screamed in her anxiety. Then just as he 
 started the motor, a shout hailed them from the office 
 door, and both turned to see Adam Kraus tearing 
 down the steps bareheaded, wildly waving his arms, 
 followed by a half-dozen clerks and Mr. Granger, 
 himself. 
 
 "Go! Go!" implored Robin, catching his arm, 
 and so frightened rang her voice that Tom instinct- 
 ively obeyed and stepped on the accelerator with such 
 force that the car shot forward. "Oh, faster! 
 Faster!" she sobbed. "He's coming" A backward 
 glance had told her that Adam Kraus intended to 
 give chase; still bareheaded, he had jumped into a 
 Ford standing in the road. 
 
 "Well, I don't know what we're running away 
 from, but my baby can give anything on wheels a 
 good go-by!" laughed Tom, his eyes keen. He
 
 276 RED-ROBIN 
 
 leaned over the wheel, his face fixed on the road 
 with its "eat-her-up" tensity. 
 
 They turned into the Cornwall road. At a rise 
 Robin saw the other car with its bareheaded driver 
 tearing after them. 
 
 "Oh, he's coming," she moaned, sinking down 
 mto the seat. 
 
 "Say, Miss Forsyth I'm keen on 
 
 running away but what the deuce from ? 
 
 Who's that fellow following 1 us why 
 
 are you afraid?" He flung the words jerkily, 
 
 sideways, at Robin. 
 
 "I'll tell you afterwards," Robin gasped back. 
 The wind whistled past her, she lost her hat. She 
 crouched in her seat, her hands clinging tightly to 
 the box, her head turned as though expecting their 
 pursuer to overtake them any moment. 
 
 Suddenly Tom frowned. At the same time the 
 engine gave a grating "b-r-r-r." 
 
 "Oh, what is it?" 
 
 "Oil's getting low Bad " she caught in 
 
 answer. "Pulling some I'll fool him, 
 
 though " He slowed down. 
 
 "Don't" implored Robin. 
 
 "We'll turn down this road. He'll go straight 
 on. Clever, eh ? Say, I wouldn't have guessed you 
 had all this spunk in you !" he took the time to say, 
 casting her an admiring glance.
 
 AT THE GRANGER MILLS 277 
 
 He made the turn and the "baby" ploughed 
 through the soft rough road at a perilous clip. The 
 road wound through thickly wooded hills, up and 
 down, apparently leading to nowhere. 
 
 Suddenly it twisted up a long hill. Tom's car 
 climbed easily, slackening its speed for a few mo- 
 ments at the top. Turning, Robin could make out 
 the course over which they had come and, to her 
 horror, the little car plunging over it. 
 
 "Look look!" she cried. 
 
 "Well, I'll be blowed!" Tom Granger stared 
 as though he could not believe his eyes. "He saw 
 the marks of my new tires, I guess. He's a sharp 
 one. Cheer up we're not caught yet." He in- 
 creased the speed; they tore down the slope in 
 breakneck haste. 
 
 But, in the hollow, the car slopped out of the 
 muddy ruts, gave a sickening lurch sidewise and 
 dropped with a jolt into mud to the axles. 
 
 His face white with excitement Tom Granger 
 tore at the gears, tried to go back, to go forward, 
 but in vain. And, presently, they both heard the 
 distant throb of a motor. 
 
 Robin jumped down from the car, hugging her 
 box. "I'll run. Good-bye, Tom, thank you so 
 much!" She was far too excited to realize the 
 familiar way in which she had addressed him. She 
 had cleared the ditch and stood on the fringe of the 
 deep woods.
 
 278 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "I'll tell you sometime about it!" she flung to 
 him. "I'm not stealing! That man will 
 know " and she disappeared among the leafing 
 undergrowth. 
 
 "Well, I'll be - Oh, I say, Miss Forsyth, 
 don't " But the boy's attention, quite naturally, 
 turned to meet the enemy, who at that moment ap- 
 peared over the crest of the hill.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 
 
 BERYL waved Robin off to the Granger's with 
 a forced cheerfulness. Left alone, she sat in the 
 room she shared with Robin and stared unhappily 
 at the disarray left from the frenzied packing 
 and unpacking. 
 
 Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party 
 of young people with two bags full of lovely clothes 
 would ever, ever happen to her! 
 
 In fact nothing exciting would ever happen. 
 She'd just go on and on wanting things all her life. 
 
 She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a 
 dear no one could ever envy her, but she wished 
 she could have just some of the chances Robin had 
 and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with 
 just one of Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into 
 that drawing room at Wyckham and hold her own 
 with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the 
 haughty Alicia had no terrors for her, and if they 
 tried to snub her, she'd put her violin under her chin 
 and then 
 
 The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the 
 quiet house. Beryl heard Harkness' slow step, as 
 he went to the door ; then it climbed the stairs and 
 stopped outside of Robin's room. 
 
 "Miss Beryl a telegram." 
 
 279
 
 280 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never 
 received a telegram in her life and the yellow envelope 
 frightened her. 
 
 "The boy said as to sign here." 
 
 Beryl wrote her name mechanically in letters that 
 zigzagged crazily. Harkness lingered while she tore 
 open the envelope, concern struggling with curiosity 
 on his face. 
 
 "It's from Robin's guardian. He he wants 
 oh, Harkness, am I reading right? He says I must 
 come to New York at once tonight, if I can. He'll 
 meet me it's extremely important. Why, Harkness, 
 what in the world has happened? It doesn't sound 
 awful, does it? Did you ever know of anything so 
 mysterious in your life?" 
 
 Harkness never had. He read the telegram with 
 brows drawn together. 
 
 "Mebbe they left out something," he suggested, 
 turning the sheet and scrutinizing its back. 
 
 "Well, I'll have to go." Beryl's voice betrayed 
 her deep excitement. "I can catch the evening train. 
 Oh, Harkness, how often I've watched that go out 
 and wished I was on it ! And now I'm going to be. 
 I'm going to New York! Harkness, be a dear and 
 hurry some dinner, will you? I'll pack. And oh, 
 will you take a note to mother for me ? I'll not have 
 time to stop. Or wait I won't tell her I'm going 
 until I know what it's for she'd worry. Isn't 
 that best?"
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 281 
 
 "Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, 
 don't you fret. And Joe '11 take you down to the 
 station in the truck, he will, for like as not he'll be 
 meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who 
 lives Boston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife " 
 
 "Oh, that'll be nice. But please hurry, Harkness. 
 That boy's waiting for his book. And I can't think." 
 
 Two hours later Beryl sat upright on the plush 
 seat of the evening train, her old suitcase at her 
 feet packed with every garment she possessed. 
 
 "This is more fun than all your old house-parties," 
 she apostrophized the black square of window, which 
 dimly reflected her glowing face. Then she lost her- 
 self in a delicious "I wonder" as to why she had been 
 summoned so mysteriously to New York. 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce and Miss Effie met her at 
 the end of her wonderful journey, no part of which 
 had wearied her in the least, and their smiling faces 
 put at rest the tiny misgiving that had persisted 
 that she might be walking into some sort of a scheme 
 to separate her from Robin. 
 
 "I am glad you got my telegram in time to catch 
 tonight's train. I've made an important appointment 
 for you to-morrow morning with a friend of mine." 
 But not another word concerning the mystery would 
 the lawyer say. Both he and his sister went about 
 with a queer smile, and treated Beryl as fond (and 
 rich) parents might a good child on Christmas Eve. 
 
 The next morning Miss Effie started the two of
 
 282 RED-ROBIN 
 
 them off for the "appointment" with a fluttery excite- 
 ment bordering on hysteria. 
 
 "You'll think, my dear, you've rubbed Aladdin's 
 lamp/' she whispered to Beryl, patting down the neat 
 white collar of Beryl's coat. 
 
 Beryl thought of her words when she followed 
 Mr. Allendyce through a long dim room, crowded 
 with treasures of fabric and ceramic, rich in coloring, 
 fragrant of oriental perfumes. 
 
 "He's a collector," Cornelius Allendyce explained, 
 nodding sideways and hurrying on to a room in the 
 back, as though their errand had nothing to do with 
 the curious things about them. 
 
 "Ah, there, Eugene, we're here! Miss Lynch, 
 this is Eugene Dominez, known to two continents as 
 that rare specimen, an honest collector; to me, the 
 only man I can't beat at chess!" 
 
 A very small man rose from a great carved chair. 
 He had a thin, leathery face with an exaggerated 
 nose, stretched out as though from sniffing for curios 
 in dusty dim corners. When he smiled his eyes shut 
 and his mouth twisted until he looked like a jolly 
 little gnome. 
 
 "Ah-ha ! You admit you cannot beat me !" He 
 spoke with a soft accent. "And this is the little 
 lady who owns the green beads." And he peered 
 closely at Beryl. 
 
 The green beads! She had not thought of 
 them once.
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 283 
 
 "Sit down. Sit down. I will ask you to tell 
 me a story. Then I will tell you a story. First, 
 my dear young lady, tell me where you found the 
 beads?" As he spoke, he drew open a drawer, and 
 took from it the envelope Robin had given to 
 her guardian. 
 
 Beryl answered briefly, for the simple reason that 
 she found difficulty managing her tongue. 
 
 "An an old priest back in Ireland gave them 
 to us. He'd found them in an antique shop in 
 London." 
 
 "Ah, so! Just so! So! So!" crowed the gnome- 
 like man, jumping up and down in his great chair. 
 "Now I will tell you a story." 
 
 "Once upon a time, as you say, a beautiful Queen 
 of the fifteenth century, while travelling through a 
 forest, came upon a roving band of gypsies. So 
 great was her beauty that the gypsy chief gave to her 
 a necklace of precious jade, upon each bead of which 
 had been tooled a crown, so infinitesimal as to be seen 
 only through a strong lens. The chief told the fair 
 Queen that the necklace brought good fortune to 
 whosoever possessed it. But so proud was the young 
 Queen of the precious beads and the good fortune 
 that was to be hers that she boasted of them to her 
 Court and aroused the envy of many until a knave 
 among her courtiers stole them from her. For gen- 
 erations these beads, the workmanship of a Magyar 
 artisan, have passed from owner to owner, always
 
 284 RED-ROBIN 
 
 mysteriously, for, because of the good fortune they 
 had power to bestow, no one parted with them ex- 
 cept from the most dire necessity, and only lost them 
 through theft. Ah," he held up one of the glowing 
 green globes, "the stories they could tell of greed 
 and dishonor and cunning ! The lies that have been 
 told for them! And an old priest found them a* 
 last! It is many years since there has been any 
 trace." He stared at Beryl as though to see through 
 her into the past. Then he roused quickly and shook 
 his shoulders. "They have hung about the necks of 
 crowned people, good people and wicked people. 
 Perhaps they have brought good fortune as the 
 Magyar chieftain said they would. Who knows? 
 You, my dear you are a girl with a sensible head 
 on a pair of straight shoulders tell me, do you care 
 more for the superstition of this necklace than for 
 the money I will pay you for it say, fifteen thous- 
 and dollars?" 
 
 Beryl stood up so suddenly that her chair tumbled 
 backward, making a crashing noise in the subdued 
 stillness of the little room. 
 
 "Are you joking?" she asked in a queer, choky 
 voice. 
 
 "No, he is not joking. And I told you he is 
 known the world over as an honest collector," broke 
 in Cornelius Allendyce. 
 
 "Fifteen thousand dollars! Why, that's aa 
 awfully big amount, isn't it?" Beryl appealed
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 285 
 
 helplessly to the lawyer. "Why of course I'll sell 
 it if you're sure it's what you think it is. I I 
 don't want " 
 
 The little collector handed her one of the beads 
 and a strong magnifying glass. "Look!" he com- 
 manded. Beryl obeyed. There, quite plainly, she 
 made out a tiny crown. 
 
 She laughed hysterically. "I see it ! I thought 
 that was a scratch. I never noticed it was on every 
 one. Oh, how queer ! A queen wore these !" She 
 rolled the bead slowly in the palm of her hand. Then 
 she handed it back. "But I'd much rather have the 
 money than the beads even if a dozen queens wore 
 them." Her sound practicalness rang harshly in the 
 exotic atmosphere of the room. 
 
 "I explained to Mr. Dominez your situation and 
 your ambition," Cornelius Allendyce put in almost 
 apologetically. 
 
 "Mr. Allendyce will represent you in this deal, 
 Miss Lynch, if you care to think the sale over. 
 However, I am giving you a final offer. You 
 are young and " 
 
 Beryl reached out both hands with childish im- 
 pulsiveness. "Oh, I want the money now! I want 
 to spend it. I want oh, you don't know all I 
 want " She stopped abruptly, confused by the 
 smiles on both men's faces 
 
 "Mr. Dominez will give you a partial payment 
 in cash and the rest I will deposit in the bank to
 
 286 RED-ROBIN 
 
 your credit," explained Cornelius Allendyce. "You 
 need not feel ashamed of your excitement, my dear ; 
 fortune like this does not come often to anyone. 
 It's hard, indeed, not to believe that the little beads 
 have magic." 
 
 "I'm dreaming. I'm just plain dreaming and I'll 
 wake up in a minute and find I'm Beryl Lynch, 
 poor as ever!" Beryl whispered to herself as she 
 followed Robin's guardian out into the sunshine of 
 the street. She felt of her bulging pocketbook, into 
 which she had put the roll of bills the little collector 
 had smilingly given her, and which Robin's guardian 
 had counted over, quite seriously. It felt real but 
 it just couldn't be true 
 
 "Now where, my dear ? You ought to make this 
 day one you'll never forget." 
 
 "Don't I have to go right back to Wassumsic? 
 Oh, then then can I go to see Jacques Henri and 
 tell him? I know the way I can take the Ninth 
 Avenue Elevated or Would it be very foolish if 
 I took a taxi ?" Beryl colored furiously. 
 
 "Not at all, Miss Beryl, not at all. Take the 
 taxi and keep it there to return to my house; then 
 you and Miss Effie put your heads together and decide 
 just what you want to do first with your money." 
 
 Beryl rejoiced that it was a nice shiny taxi, quite 
 like a real lady's car. She sniffed delightedly the 
 leathery smell, sat bolt upright with her chin in 
 the air.
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 287 
 
 "Go straight down Fifth Avenue," she instructed 
 the driver. 
 
 Spring, with its eternal sorcery, caressed the great 
 city. Its spell threw a sheen over the drab things 
 Beryl remembered so well, the brick schoolhouse, 
 the Settlement, the dirty narrow street flanked by 
 dull-brown tenements with their endless fire escapes 
 mounting higher and higher, hung now with bedding 
 of every color. The street swarmed with children 
 returning from school, and they gathered about the 
 automobile climbing on to the running board on 
 either side and peering through the windows. 
 
 "It's the Lynch girl," someone cried and another 
 answered jeeringly. 
 
 "Aw, git off! Wot she doin' in this swell 
 autymobile?" 
 
 Beryl did not mind in the least the street urchins ; 
 even though she had lived among them, neither she 
 nor Dale had ever been of them, thanks to her 
 mother's watchful care. She smiled at them and 
 fled into the dark alley way that led to the court 
 which, all through her childhood, had been her 
 play-ground. 
 
 As she climbed, a dreadful thought appalled her. 
 What if dear old Jacques Henri had moved away 
 or died! But, no, at the very moment she let the 
 fear halt her climbing step she heard the dear sound 
 of his violin. She crept to his door and softly 
 opened it.
 
 288 RED-ROBIN 
 
 The old man stood near his window, through 
 which he could see a slit of blue sky between two 
 walls. On the sill were the pink geraniums he 
 nursed through winter and summer, their pinkness 
 brightening the gloom of the bare, dim room. 
 Jacques Henri called them his family. 
 
 "Jacques Henri!" Beryl ran to him and threw 
 her strong arms about him. 
 
 "Hold! Let me look. My girl? Ah, do my 
 old eyes tell me false things? No, it's my 
 little Beryl!" 
 
 Beryl took his violin from him, kissed its strings 
 lightly and laid it carefully upon the table. Then she 
 pushed the startled old man back into the one com- 
 fortable chair and perched herself upon its arm. 
 
 "Listen, dear Jacques Henri, and I'll tell you the 
 strangest story that you ever heard about Queens 
 and gypsies and green beads and a girl you know. 
 Don't say one word until I'm through." And Bery! 
 told in all its wonderful detail, the happenings of 
 the morning. 
 
 "And don't you see what it means? I can begin 
 to study at once! Right this minute ! And, oh, how 
 I'll work and practice and learn until " 
 
 She caught up the old man's violin and its bow 
 and drew it across the strings. 
 
 "Play!" commanded Jacques Henri, without so 
 much as a word for the Aladdin-lamp tale she bad 
 told him.
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 289 
 
 Beryl played and as she played she wished with 
 all her might she could summon the power that had 
 been hers on Christmas night. She wanted to play 
 for Jacques Henri as she had played then. But she 
 could not. 
 
 "Stop!" 
 
 Beryl laid the violin down. 
 
 The old man scowled at her until she shifted ner-' 
 vously under his searching eyes. 
 
 "Your fingers they are clever, your ear is true 
 but there is nothing of you in what you play! 
 Do you know what I mean?" 
 
 He did not wait for Beryl to answer ; he went on, 
 with a shake of his great head and his eyes still 
 fixed upon her. 
 
 "You come to me and tell me your good fortune 
 and what you will do; how you can study and you 
 can work and you can learn to make good music.- 
 and you have no word for what that money will mean 
 to your saint of a mother aye, the best woman God 
 ever made! Shame to you, selfish girl, that you 
 should put your ambition before her dreams!" 
 
 The color dyed Beryl's face. "I never thought " 
 she muttered, then stopped abruptly, ashamed of 
 her own admission. 
 
 "No, you never thought! Do you ever think 
 much beyond yourself?" Then, afraid that he had 
 spoken too harshly, he laid his hand affectionately 
 upon Beryl's shoulder. "But you are young, my 
 
 19
 
 290 RED-ROBIN 
 
 dear, and youth is careless. Jacques Henri knows 
 that there is good in you my eyes are wise and I 
 can see into your heart. It is an honest little heart 
 you will heed in time. Ambition is a greedy thing 
 watch out that you keep it in your clever head and 
 do not let it wrap its hard sinews about your heart, 
 crushing all that is beautiful there. Listen to me, 
 child ; think you that your music can reach into the 
 souls of people if you do not feel that music in ycur 
 own good soul? Your fingers may be clever and 
 your body strong, but your music will be cold, cold, 
 if the heart inside you is a little, cold, mean thing! 
 Many's the one, I grant you, content to feed the pass- 
 ing plaudits of the crowd, but not the master he 
 must go further, he must give of himself to all 
 that they may carry something beautiful of his gift 
 away in their hearts. That is the master. That 
 is music." 
 
 Beryl, always so ready in self-defense, stood mute 
 before the old man's charge. She had been scolded 
 too often by this dear recluse to resent it; she had, 
 too, faith in anything he might say. 
 
 Then: "You just ought to know Robin," she 
 burst out, irrelevantly, eager that her old teacher 
 should believe that, even though she might be a selfish, 
 thoughtless girl herself, she could recognize and res- 
 pect the good qualities in others. 
 
 "Forgive your old friend if he has hurt you. 
 Go now to your blessed mother and lay your good 
 fortune at her feet. That I might see her face !"
 
 THE GREEN BEADS 291 
 
 "And if she wants to use some of the money, 
 will you help me?" asked Beryl, in a meek voice. 
 
 "Ah, most surely. And proudly." 
 
 Beryl rode back to Miss Effie's in a contritely 
 humble mood. 
 
 "I wish there were some sort of medicine one 
 could take to make them better inside their hearts! 
 I wouldn't care how nasty it tasted," she mourned, 
 impatient at the long, hard climb that must be hers 
 if she ever made of herself what her Jacques 
 Henri wanted. 
 
 All of Miss Effie's coaxing could not keep Beryl 
 from taking the afternoon train to Wassumsic. 
 
 "I must tell my mother about the beads at 
 once!" she answered, firmly.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 
 
 JUST as the shrill of the train whistle echoed 
 through the little valley, Moira Lynch set her lighted 
 lamp in the window. She did not sing to-night as 
 she performed the customary ceremony, nor had she 
 for many nights. Her throat seemed too tired, her 
 arms dropped with the weight of her lamp, a dull 
 little pain at the back of her neck gripped her with 
 a pulling clutch. 
 
 The doctor had told her she was "tired out." 
 She had gone to him very secretly, lest Dale or big 
 Danny should know and worry. But even to be 
 "just tired out" was very terrifying to Mother Moira 
 if her arms and head and heart failed, who would 
 take care of big Danny and keep a little home for 
 Dale and watch over Beryl? 
 
 With her habitual optimism she tried to laugh 
 away her alarm, but the pulling ache persisted and 
 her arms trembled under tasks that before had 
 seemed as nothing. She told herself that it was all 
 her own fault that her big Danny seemed harder to 
 please, but when, under a particularly trying moment, 
 she broke down and cried, she knew she was reaching 
 the end of her endurance. 
 
 "Did the train stop?" queried big Danny. 
 
 "Sure and it did!" cried Mrs. Moira, trying to 
 292
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 293 
 
 throw excitement into her voice to please the invalid 
 man. Big Danny took childish pleasure in listening 
 for the incoming and New York-bound trains. 
 
 "What's keeping Dale? Prob'bly hanging 
 'round the Inn!" 
 
 Mrs. Moira smothered the quick retort that 
 sprang to her lips in defense of her boy. 
 
 "He'll be here any minute," she said instead, 
 comfortingly. "There he is now !" Her quick ear 
 had caught a step outside. 
 
 Beryl, not Dale, opened the door and confronted 
 them. Suppressed excitement, impatience, eager- 
 ness, an inward disgust of herself for being a "selfish 
 thing anyway" combined to give Beryl's face such 
 an unnatural pallor and haggard tensity of expression 
 that big Danny whirled his chair toward her and 
 Mrs. Lynch caught her hands over her heart. 
 
 "Beryl?" she cried, standing quite still. 
 
 Beryl walked to her and very quietly gathered her 
 into her young arms. 
 
 "Don't look so scared, Mom, dear. Oh, don't 
 cry! Why, I'm near crying myself! After I've 
 told you all that has happened I shall just bawl. I'm 
 too dreadfully happy. Sit down here, Mom, and 
 hold my hand tight. Wait I must take my things 
 off first." 
 
 In a twinkling she had her stage "set" for her sur- 
 prise. Strangely stirred herself, she had to gulp 
 once or twice before she could begin her story. It
 
 294 RED-ROBIN 
 
 was difficult to keep it coherent, too, because Mrs. 
 Moira interrupted her so often with little unneces- 
 sary 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 aban- 
 doned the details with which she had planned to lead 
 up to the great surprise. She plunged abruptly to 
 the point of the story. 
 
 "Those beads. They weren't just plain beads. 
 They were a precious necklace made by some queer 
 people, ages and ages ago. Queens have worn 'em 
 and all sorts of wicked people and they've gone from 
 hand to hand I s'pose I ought to say neck to neck 
 for all these years and then, suddenly, no one could 
 find them. And Mr. Allendyce's friend the col- 
 lector gave me this money outright for them and " 
 
 Mrs. Lynch suddenly sprang to furious life. She 
 stood erect, her eyes flashing, her ringers working 
 in and out, her lips trembling. 
 
 "You sold my you sold my beads! Beryl 
 Lynch, how dared you. My my " 
 
 Beryl stared at her. She could not speak for 
 sheer amazement. 
 
 "My beads ! They were the last thing I 
 had that held me to my dreams." Her voice 
 died off in a heart-broken whisper that hurt Beryl 
 to the soul. 
 
 "Mother! Mother, please don't. It isn't too
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 295 
 
 late. I can get them back. I didn't know you cared, 
 don't you see?" 
 
 Beryl of course did not know about the pulling 
 ache at the back of Mother Moira's neck or she would 
 have understood that her mother's hysteria was due 
 partly to that. She had never seen her mother look 
 so queer and old and pale and it frightened her. 
 
 Mrs. Lynch crossed the room until she stood 
 behind Danny's chair. Involuntarily her hand 
 moved to his shoulder. 
 
 "No, you wouldn't know. It isn't your fault. 
 Of course it's just beads they were, but they belonged 
 to the young part of me when my heart was that 
 light and full of beautiful dreams and so strong 
 that it hurt the inside of me. And nothing in this 
 world was too fine for the likes of my Danny and 
 me. And we thought 'twas just ours for the asking. 
 And then when the clouds come " her hand pressed 
 big Danny's shoulder ever so lightly, "I told myself 
 the dreams were my own and no one could take them 
 away from me and if I couldn't make them come true, 
 as true for himself and me, sure, I'd keep them for my 
 boy and girl. And 'twas the beads were like a dear 
 voice out of the past telling me to be strong, for 
 Father Murphy, with the saints in Heaven now, 
 God rest him, gave them to me himself with his 
 blessing and saying might my dreams come true! 
 Ah, well sure it's a punishment, maybe, for me 
 wanting things just for my own " 
 
 "Mother!" broke in Beryl, sternly. "As if yon
 
 296 RED-ROBIN 
 
 could be punished for anything! Will you tell me 
 one thing? Which would you rather have those 
 beads or or a nice little farm in the hills with a 
 cow and chickens and pigs and a little orchard and 
 and a Ford and a girl to do the cooking so's you 
 could stay with Pop, and Dale studying engineering 
 in some college, if he wanted to, and me " 
 
 "Beryl Lynch, are ye crazy?" cried big Danny, 
 suspecting that the girl was in someway trying to 
 mock her mother. 
 
 "No, I'm not crazy, though I ought to be, with 
 old Jacques Henri scolding me and now mother " 
 She bit her lip childishly. "Will you please just 
 answer me, mother?" 
 
 "A farm with a garden and a cow and trees 
 and a good stretch of the green meadow ah, sure 
 I'd think it a bit of Heaven." 
 
 "Mother, you can have it! You can have it!" 
 Beryl rushed to and knelt by big Danny's chair. 
 "That's what I was trying to tell you. That man 
 will give you fifteen thousand dollars for those beads ! 
 Really, truly. See, he gave me all this money today. 
 And Mr. Allendyce will put the rest in the bank. 
 Oh, I know it's hard to believe but it's true. You 
 can ask Mr. Allendyce." 
 
 Big Danny, with trembling hands, took the roll 
 of bills from Beryl's purse. They were undisputable 
 proof of her story. 
 
 "Moira girl, 'tis true!" Big Danny's voice 
 trembled.
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 297 
 
 " 2 Tis Father Murphy's blessing," whispered 
 Mrs. Lynch, a strange light in her eyes. "May I 
 be worthy of it!" Then she roused and laughed, a 
 tinkling laugh. "Ah my girl shall have her music, 
 now! Oh, it's too wonderful." 
 
 "Where's Dale?" cried Beryl, her heart jubilant 
 that the unexpected crisis had passed. "Won't he 
 be surprised?" 
 
 "What ever can be keeping the boy? Tis long 
 past the hour." 
 
 "Now, mother, don't you begin a-worrying. 
 Dale's old enough to look after himself." 
 
 "It's a fussing old hen I am, as true as true!" 
 And because once more her heart was so light inside 
 of her that it hurt, she kissed her big Danny on the 
 top of his head. 
 
 "I wish Dale would come. I ought to go back 
 to the Manor. Harkness is probably worrying his 
 head off over my strange visit to New York." 
 
 But Harkness had other things to worry about. 
 
 Dale burst in upon his family just a few moments 
 after Beryl had spoken but she did not tell her story. 
 He gave her no opportunity. 
 
 "Gordon Forsyth's lost!" 
 
 "Lost?" 
 
 "Yes. Somewhere in the woods between Corn- 
 wall and South Falls. Strangest thing you ever 
 heard. She made young Tom Granger run off with 
 her goodness knows where they were headed for, 
 and when his car went into the ditch she made a dask
 
 298 RED-ROBIN 
 
 for the woods and that's the last anyone's seen 
 of her." 
 
 "Why, Dale, she couldn't" cried Beryl. 
 
 "Couldn't ? Easiest thing in the world. Woods 
 are thick and miles deep through there." 
 
 "I mean she couldn't be running off with Tom 
 Granger. Why, she never met him until yesterday " 
 
 "Well, it wasn't exactly with him but she made 
 him take her off. She was running away from 
 some one. Granger's been over here talking to 
 Norris. They called me in. Seems Kraus had taken 
 my model to sell to Granger, and called it his own, 
 and Miss Gordon heard him. And she just walked 
 in when they weren't in the room and took it. 
 Granger wouldn't say any more. He's too worried. 
 What I think is that Kraus chased them Miss 
 Gordon and Tom Granger " 
 
 "How thrilling! What an adventure," exclaimed 
 Beryl, her eyes shining. Oh, exciting things were 
 happening ! 
 
 "Thrilling ! Won't be thrilling if anything's hap- 
 pened to the kid. It's four hours now and Granger's 
 had a bunch of men hunting ever since his son walked 
 into the office and gave the alarm. Can you give 
 me a bite in a hurry, Mom ? The Manor car's going 
 to take six of us over to meet young Granger and 
 make a thorough search." 
 
 "But it's tired to death you look now, Dale. 
 Can't"
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 299 
 
 "I'm not tired just bothered. Mom, I hate to 
 think of that little thing getting into this fix just for 
 my model. Granger was awfully decent about the 
 thing; told Norris he was a fool not to jump at it. 
 He said he had some sort of a note Miss Robin had 
 left and it seemed to amuse him, but he didn't offer 
 to show it. It isn't only because she's a Forsyth 
 I care, but she's such a square little thing. Hurry 
 up, please, Mom, Williams may stop any moment." 
 
 "I ought to go up to the Manor. They must 
 be in an awful state." 
 
 "Wait, as soon as ever I can fix your father 
 I'll go with you myself," cried Mrs. Lynch. 
 
 Toward noon of the next day, in answer to an 
 urgent telegram, Cornelius Allendyce arrived at the 
 Manor, having come down from New York by 
 motor. Just as he was gulping down the coffee 
 Harkness had brought to him, Mr. Granger, Senior, 
 was ushered in. 
 
 The men knew one another well. They shook 
 hands, then Cornelius Allendyce motioned him to a 
 chair opposite him at the table. 
 
 The lawyer only needed to look at the other 
 man's face to know that he brought no good news. 
 
 "Tom telephoned from Cornwall at six o'clock. 
 Not a sign. Not so much as a red hair ! Strangest 
 thing I ever heard of. They're going to search the
 
 300 RED-ROBIN 
 
 ravines today easy enough for her to stumble into 
 them if she was frightened or hurrying. Then 
 there's the kidnapping possibility!" 
 
 "Improbable!" protested the lawyer. 
 
 "Well, nothing's improbable. You'd have said 
 it wasn't to be thought of that a youngster like that 
 would run off with that model. I want to give you 
 the details of this whole matter they'd be extremely 
 interesting if one were not so concerned." He told 
 of his two interviews with Adam Kraus and of 
 Dale's invention. "A master contrivance. I can't 
 understand your man, here, letting it get away from 
 him. Why, it's worth a lot to me, but in these Mills 
 well, you may not know what I think of your 
 mills," he laughed. "I'll tell you another time. The 
 girl saw this Kraus go into my office, and persuaded 
 my boy, who'd been taking her for a ride, to stop. 
 She was waiting in my outer office and heard Kraus 
 claim the invention as his own scoundrel that he 
 was and when I took Kraus to see my head fore- 
 man, didn't she walk in, help herself to the model 
 and leave me this." He drew an envelope from 
 his pocket and handed it to Cornelius Allendyce. 
 "Read it." 
 
 "This model is Dale Lynch's. I am taking it to him. 
 When I see my guardian, I shall make him buy it for the 
 Forsyth Mills. 
 
 GORDON FORSYTE." 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce looked up from the bit of
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 301 
 
 paper. He had suddenly recalled the frightened 
 little girl he had first brought to Gray Manor. 
 
 "Who'd believe that the child had the nerve?" 
 
 "That's what I said. Well, she ran off with it, 
 Kraus gave chase, Tom headed toward Cornwall, 
 then switched off on an unimproved road and came 
 to grief. Just as Kraus was about to overtake them 
 the child ran off into the wood. Tom didn't have 
 the vaguest idea what it was all about, but he tried to 
 head off Kraus and when Kraus started for the 
 wood he did a little wrestling trick that surprised the 
 fellow, got him down, tied him in the Ford and 
 went himself in search of Miss Gordon. When he 
 came back after an hour's search he found Kraus 
 and the Ford gone and he walked back to South 
 Falls. That's all." 
 
 "That model may be worth a lot, but it is not 
 worth another tragedy to this house," groaned 
 Cornelius Allendyce. 
 
 "No. It is worth a good deal but not 
 that much." 
 
 A few moments' deep silence prevailed. Wrinkles 
 of worry twisted the lawyer's face. What a mess 
 it all was, anyway he had urged Robin to go to 
 the Granger's in hopes that she'd bring the two 
 families into close intimacy again and instead of that 
 she had gotten herself into this fix. If they found 
 her safe and sound she ought to be spanked and 
 taught to keep her hands off the Mill affairs until
 
 302 RED-ROBIN 
 
 she was older. But down in his heart he knew this 
 was only a vexatious expression of his concern 
 you couldn't punish Robin for anything. 
 
 "As her guardian I appreciate your alarm. I 
 share it with you, not alone because Miss Forsytb 
 was a guest at my house but because I took a great 
 fancy to the child. It struck me, as I looked at 
 her, that her coming to Wassumsic to the Manor, 
 might change things, here, quite a bit." 
 
 "It has it will," mumbled Mr. Allendyce. For 
 a moment, just to relieve his feelings, he wondered 
 if he might not confide in this very human man 
 the ordeal he must face with Madame Forsyth when 
 his reckoning came. 
 
 "My wife is prostrated with it all. She does 
 not know the particulars but she is deeply concerned. 
 I do not like to add to your worry but do you think 
 there is any possibility that the child returned to 
 the road, and that Kraus, freed from Tom's rope, 
 captured her and went off with her?" 
 
 "Why, every possibility in the world!" shouted 
 Robin's guardian. "Why did you hug that idea 
 to yourself ? We'll telephone the New York police. 
 He's sure to make straight for the city." 
 
 Both men welcomed action. They rushed to the 
 library and put in a long distance call and then, while 
 waiting, paced the room's length back and forth. 
 Harkness, shaking and white and miserable, glued 
 his ear to the crack in the door, hopeful for one 
 crumb of comforting news.
 
 ROBIN'S RESCUE 303 
 
 Below stairs Mrs. Budge, flatly refusing to believe 
 that "Miss Robin" could be lost just when she had 
 learned to love her, beat up a cake for her home- 
 coming, unmindful of the tears that splashed into 
 the batter. 
 
 In the little sitting-room they had shared, Beryl, 
 who did not even have the heart to play with Susy, 
 sat with her nose against the window watching the 
 ribbon of road over which anyone would come if they 
 came. That was why she was the first of the Manor 
 household to spy the dilapidated Ford approaching, 
 snorting up the incline. Something about it made 
 her think of the general dilapidation of the Forgotten 
 Village. It might be some word ! She rushed down 
 the stairs, two steps at a time, past the startled 
 Harkness, through the big front door. The strange- 
 looking car had turned into the Manor gate. A man 
 with long white whiskers was driving it. And yes, 
 a bareheaded girl, who looked like Robin, sat on 
 the back seat. It was Robin. Beryl waved her hand 
 wildly and Robin answered. But who rode with her ? 
 Beryl's flying feet came to a quick halt. 
 
 "As sure as I'm alive it's the Queen of Altruria !" 
 
 Turning, Beryl rushed back to the Manor. 
 
 "Harkness! Harkness!" she cried, bursting in 
 through the door. "Robin's coming! She's here! 
 And she's brought the Queen of Altruria with her ! 
 Oh, what' II we do?" For surely some ceremony 
 befitting royalty should be prepared. 
 
 "The Queen of what " cried Mr. Granger and
 
 304 RED-ROBIN 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce rushing from the library. "Oh, 
 the girl's crazy " asserted the lawyer. Neverthe- 
 less he ran to the door, followed by Mr. Granger and 
 Harkness and Beryl and Hannah Budge and Chloe, 
 who had heard Beryl's glad cry in the kitchen. 
 
 At close range the dilapidated Ford looked even 
 more dilapidated ; Robin, letting her royal companion 
 talk terms of payment with the bewhiskered scion of 
 the Forgotten Village, clambered out the moment the 
 car stopped and fell into Beryl's arms. From their 
 shelter, after the briefest instant, she lifted her face 
 to greet her guardian and found him staring at the 
 Queen in a sort of stupid unbelief. 
 
 "I brought " Robin started an introduction, but 
 did not finish. For, recovering, with an obvious 
 effort, his natural manner of politeness, her guardian 
 was hurrying down the steps to the little car. 
 
 "Madame Forsyth, I did not expect "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 
 
 "No. I judge from all your faces no one ex- 
 pected me!" exclaimed Madame Forsyth coldly, 
 extending to Cornelius Allendyce the tips of her 
 fingers. "Harkness, you look as though you were 
 seeing a ghost !" 
 
 Her rebuking words had the effect of galvanizing 
 poor Harkness' limbs to action but not his tongue. 
 Though he hobbled down the steps and took the bag 
 from the lawyer's hand, not a word could he speak 
 from sheer stupefaction. 
 
 And Hannah Budge so forgot her long years of 
 loyalty to the House of Forsyth as to cry out "Oh, 
 Miss Robin !" before so much as one word of greeting 
 for Madame Forsyth. 
 
 "You could 'a clean knocked me over," she ex- 
 plained to Harkness afterward, "Our Madame going 
 away as fine as you please with that baggage of a 
 Florrie who was as full of tricks as a cat after a. 
 mouse, and coming back in that old car that had 
 moss on it, I do believe, and with Miss Robin, too, 
 who they all thought was lost though / knew better. 
 Something told me to beat up that cake yesterday!" 
 "And Miss Robin didn't know Madame was 
 Madame," explained Harkness. his face oerolexccL 
 "She and Miss Beryl here >e been thinking 
 20 305
 
 3 o6 RED-ROBIN 
 
 was some mysterious lydy or other Williams says 
 they got it in their little heads she was a Queen 
 hiding" 
 
 "Madame hiding where?" snorted Budge. 
 
 "Well, I can't make nothing out of it. My head 
 goes 'round in a circle like. Only Williams says 
 that lydy must be the lydy the young lydies visited, 
 mysterious like, just afore Christmas and the lydy's 
 our Madame all right and that's what I say my 
 head goes 'round in a circle !" 
 
 "Your tongue, too, Timothy Harkness. Well, 
 there's lots going to happen now, or my name ain't 
 Hannah Budge. First thing. I s'pose, she'll clear 
 that Castle young 'un out of the house and then your 
 Miss Beryl. And mebbe send Miss Robin off to 
 school somewheres to get these common notions out 
 o' her little head. You say they're all talking up- 
 stairs now?" 
 
 "Only Madame and the lawyer man. Mr. 
 Granger's gone down to the Mills to send word to 
 his home that Miss Robin's found." 
 
 "Saints be praised!" murmured Mrs. Budge, 
 devoutly. 
 
 Up in her little sitting-room Robin and Beryl 
 sat arm in arm, and Robin told Beryl the whole story 
 of her adventure. On the window seat beside them 
 lay the square box containing Dale's model. 
 
 "I just ran, Beryl, as fast as I could and anywhere. 
 I was so frightened I didn't stop to look. I fell
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 307 
 
 dovn twice and the second time I was so tired I 
 could scarcely get up. But I had to. And then I 
 thought I'd found a path, and I followed it, but it 
 stopped at a ravine that was, oh, so deep. Well, I 
 knew I was lost. I called and called and no one 
 answered. And I heard all sorts of queer noises as 
 though there might be wild beasts. One came very 
 close, I'm sure, though I couldn't see it. And I 
 was dreadfully hungry. I sat down on a log and 
 cried, too my feet ached so and my arms ached so 
 from carrying this box. I decided to bury it and 
 leave a note telling about it, for, honestly, Beryl, 
 I didn't think then I'd live an hour longer, but I 
 didn't have a pencil and when I started to dig with 
 my hands the ground was so gooy that I couldn't 
 bear to. Oh, I'll never forget it." She shuddered 
 and Beryl held her hands tighter. "And it began to 
 get dark. I tried to be brave and say nothing could 
 hurt me, but I couldn't help but hear the funny 
 noises and I was so awfully alone. I started to walk 
 again, just somewhere, because when I walked I 
 couldn't hear all the sounds and every now and then 
 I'd call out. And just as it was almost pitch dark in 
 the wood something big came rushing toward me 
 and sprang at me and, Beryl, I fainted dead away! 
 Well, the next thing I knew something was licking 
 my face. And someone was saying something queer, 
 and Beryl, it was Caesar and that Brina from our 
 House of Rushing Water! Caesar had heard me
 
 3 o8 RED-ROBIN 
 
 call and found me, and then he had barked and howled 
 until Brina came with a lantern." 
 
 Beryl jumped up and down in excitement. 
 
 "What happened then?" she cried. 
 
 "Brina carried me and that box to the house 
 in the wood. It seemed I'd gotten most to it and 
 didn't know it. And the Queen was awfully fright- 
 ened. But she wouldn't let me say a word ; she made 
 Brina put me in her bed and she covered me with 
 blankets and she fed me herself, something hot and 
 oh, so good. And she kept petting me and cuddling 
 me for I guess I shook like a leaf. You see, I 
 couldn't believe I was safe and sound; I kept seeing 
 that dog jump at me ! And finally she sang to me, 
 the nicest old-fashioned song and I went to sleep, and 
 I never opened my eyes until this morning, and there 
 she stood by my bed with a tray of nice breakfast. 
 She wouldn't let me tell her how I got lost until I'd 
 eaten every crumb. And then I felt so cosy and 
 warm and safe that I told her everything every- 
 thing, all about Mother Lynch and how my plans 
 for the House of Laughter had failed at first, and 
 then the Rileys and what I thought of the Mills, 
 and how horrid Mr. Norris was and about Susy and 
 poor Granny and Dale's model, and then what I'd 
 done at Grangers'. I just got started and I couldn't 
 stop. And Beryl, I told her again how my aunt 
 was an unhappy old woman who worried over her 
 own troubles so much that she didn't have time for
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 309 
 
 other people's. Wasn't that dreadful ?" And Robin 
 caught up a pillow and buried her face in it. 
 
 Beryl looked troubled. 
 
 "Yes, that was dreadful. What ever did 
 she say ?" 
 
 "She didn't say anything. She picked up my 
 tray and went out, and I felt the way I had that other 
 time, all fussed, because I'd bothered a Queen with 
 my silly affairs. And I could have sworn then she 
 was a Queen, Beryl, she had such a dignified way 
 of being sweet and she smelled so nice and perfumy 
 a different perfume. And that Brina had put the 
 gorgeousest nightgown on me, too." 
 
 "When did you first know the Queen was your 
 aunt ?" Beryl broke in. 
 
 "Beryl Lynch, on my honor, not until my guar- 
 dian called her Madame Forsyth! After she took 
 my tray out she came back, and she did look sort of 
 funny, now I remember, the way one does when one 
 decides suddenly to do something you hadn't dreamed 
 of doing, and she told me Brina had gone into the 
 village to hunt up some sort of a vehicle to get me 
 back to the Manor. And I didn't think until the last 
 moment that she meant to come, too. And all the 
 way over I was nearly bursting thinking how sur- 
 prised you'd be and what fun it would be to have the 
 Queen visit us. Oh, dear!" And Robin drew a 
 long breath, half sigh. 
 
 "Well, something'll happen now," groaned
 
 3 io RED-ROBIN 
 
 Beryl, in much the same tone Budge had used. 
 "When she finds out about Susy and me !" 
 
 And below in the library the same thought held 
 Robin's guardian something must happen, now. 
 
 He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth 
 freshened herself after her long ride. And while 
 he waited, in considerable apprehension, he planned 
 the course he would follow; if Madame refused to 
 accept little Red-Robin as her heir, because she was 
 a girl and different, why, he'd take her back with 
 him to his own home. She could live with him and 
 his sister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt 
 her if Jimmie would let him. And he'd take Beryl, 
 too, if Robin wished and he'd see Susy was put with 
 some nice family. 
 
 But where in the world had Robin found her aunt 
 or her aunt found Robin. Everyone acted as 
 though they were knocked stupid by the mystery 
 no one had offered a word of explanation. He 
 rubbed his forehead as though it might have 
 circles, too. 
 
 "Which shall we hear first ?" a voice asked behind 
 him, "How you happened to bring little Robin here 
 or how 7 did?" 
 
 The words startled him more because of their 
 tone than their unexpectedness. And turning, he 
 saw (to his immense relief) that Madame Forsyth 
 was smiling and in her eyes was a softened look, 
 though they were shadowed with fatigue.
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 311 
 
 "I am immensely curious, I must admit, as to 
 where you found Robin, but I feel that I owe you 
 the first explanation." 
 
 He told then, of his first visit to Patchin Place 
 and of his finding little Robin in her curious 
 surroundings. 
 
 "I really cannot say just what put the notion in 
 my head of taking her to the Manor I think it was 
 something appealing about the child." 
 
 "You are more honest to admit that than I ex- 
 pected, Cornelius Allendyce. Your silence in regard 
 to her being a girl might seem inexcusable to me only 
 that I am glad, now, that you kept silence. For 
 I would have most certainly, then, sent her back. 
 And I am glad that never happened. You see / 
 can be honest, too." 
 
 "Before I can explain my finding the child in 
 this last plight of hers I must tell you a little of my 
 'wanderings' since I left the Manor. They were not 
 far. I went to New York and reserved passage on 
 a steamer sailing for the Mediterranean the next 
 week. That evening I saw the 'for sale' notice of a 
 house in the Connecticut woods, which advertised 
 absolute seclusion. I telephoned to my banker, who 
 has been in my confidence, and he made a hurried 
 trip to Brown's Mill and bought the house, just as it 
 stood. The next day I discharged Florrie, cancelled 
 my sailing reservations, picked up a strong German 
 woman for a cook, bought a dog and rode out to
 
 3 i2 RED-ROBIN 
 
 my new home. It offered all that I had hoped it 
 would. There I planned to find a change that would 
 be a rest, to forget the world about me and live in 
 my past, which was all I had. And for several 
 weeks I did until two girls broke in upon my 
 precious privacy." 
 
 She told of Robin and Beryl's first visit and then 
 of their second, and of the gifts they brought from 
 the Manor. 
 
 "I confess it was a shock to me to discover that 
 this child was Gordon Forsyth. Yet it was the 
 shock I needed to rouse me from my depression. 
 For, like you, I fell quickly under the girl's charm. 
 From that day on I found I could not hold my 
 thoughts to my past in spite of me they persisted in 
 dwelling upon the present and the future. You see 
 I am frank with you." 
 
 Cornelius Allendyce nodded. He dared not speak 
 for he did not want to betray the relief he felt. 
 
 "I do not think I would have returned to the 
 Manor for several weeks yet, for my health has 
 singularly benefited by my unusual change, except 
 that this escapade of Robin's made me feel that I was 
 needed here. Something she said made up my mind 
 for me, rather quickly. Cornelius Allendyce that 
 child has a great gift. It is the gift of giving. An 
 unusual talent in the Forsyth family, you are think- 
 ing! But like all talents it ought to be trained and 
 directed and strengthened and my work is to do it. 
 I had thought my life lived but it is not, and I am
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 313 
 
 happy to have found it so. I am too old, perhaps, 
 to learn the new ways but I am not too old to 
 safeguard them." 
 
 "You are a wonderful old woman," the lawyer 
 answered, quite involuntarily and with such instant 
 alarm at his audacity that Madame Forsyth smiled. 
 
 "Oh, no. I am not wonderful at all. I am re- 
 vealing my heart to you, now, in a way I do not 
 often open it, but I shall, to my last day, prob- 
 ably, be a proud, overbearing old woman with a 
 sharp tongue. You, however, will know what 
 is underneath." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, then Madame 
 Forsyth told him of Caesar's finding Robin in the 
 woods and giving the alarm. 
 
 "The child was utterly exhausted. I cannot bear 
 to think of what might have happened if we had 
 not been living there. Thank God we found her. 
 May I summon the girls ? I am curious to see more 
 of this rather unusual young person my niece has 
 attached to my household." 
 
 Then the lawyer remembered Beryl's great good 
 fortune and that nothing had been said concerning 
 that. How happy Robin would be ! 
 
 In answer to Madame's summons Robin and 
 Beryl came to the library, nervously sedate in manner 
 and with fingers intertwined in a close grip. 
 
 Madame beckoned to them with her jeweled 
 white hand. 
 
 "Come to me, Robin. Are you sorry to find that
 
 314 RED-ROBIN 
 
 your mysterious friend by the Rushing Waters is 
 your aunt?" 
 
 Robin advanced slowly, hsr eyes on her aunt's 
 face. 
 
 "No, oh, no! Only maybe you're sorry about 
 me being a girl and such a small one and 
 lame, too " 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" And Madame Forsyth held out 
 her arms impulsively and Robin, her face aglow, 
 snuggled into them. 
 
 Every moment of that day something exciting 
 and significant seemed to happen. Ever so many 
 people called, and it was fun to see their surprise at 
 finding Madame home. Aunt Mathilde, (Robin 
 could not make the name sound natural) upon intro- 
 duction, had acted as though she almost liked Susy, 
 and Susy had looked very cunning in the new dress 
 the nurse had made for her. And she hadn't said 
 Susy would have to go! Then Robin flew off, the 
 very first moment, with Beryl to find Mrs. Lynch 
 and hug her over the wonderful fortune and talk 
 about the farm which must be very near Wassum- 
 sic. Then Beryl played for Aunt Mathilde and 
 Aunt Mathilde had looked as though she "felt 
 funny inside !" 
 
 And then Dale had come with Tom Granger, 
 both of them looking haggard from anxiety and lack 
 of sleep. They came in while Beryl was playing. 
 Robin was glad of that for it gave her a moment
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 315 
 
 to think what she must say to Tom Granger 
 m explanation. 
 
 She did not need to say anything, however. Tom 
 knew the whole story, from his father and from Dale, 
 He and Dale had become fast friends. 
 
 He caught Robin's hand and pumped her small 
 arm until it ached. 
 
 "I had to see you to believe you'd turned up," 
 he laughed. "You certainly gave us a scare we won't 
 forget in a hurry! But you're a good little sport 
 and I'm coming around, if I may, to take you for a 
 ride before I have to go back to school." 
 
 "Well, I never want to go fast again in my life," 
 cried Robin, coloring under the meaning glance Beryl 
 shot at her. 
 
 Dale greeted her more shyly, and because Madame 
 Forsyth and Cornelius Allendyce were talking to 
 Tom, and Beryl had eyes and ears only for the 
 nice-looking lad, no one overheard what passed 
 between them. 
 
 "Miss Robin, I would never have forgiven myself 
 if anything had happened to you! You should not 
 have taken such a risk just for my model." 
 
 Robin looked at Dale with shining eyes. Would 
 she tell him of her "pretend?" 
 
 "You saved my life once," she exclaimed, 
 impulsively, 
 
 "7 did!" 
 
 "Yes a long time ago. I was hunting in a
 
 316 RED-ROBIN 
 
 little park in New York for my doll that I'd left there 
 and you found me, crying. And you took me home 
 to Patchin Place. I guess maybe you forgot, be- 
 cause you were big and I was a little bit of a thing !" 
 
 Dale stared at her for a moment, then he laughed. 
 
 "Why, of course I remember now. You were 
 a little bit of a thing, with blue eyes and a blue tarn. 
 YOU asked me what a Ma was ! Yes, I'd clean for- 
 gotten." He sobered suddenly, and Robin knew it 
 was because he remembered why he had forgotten. 
 His father had been hurt that evening. 
 
 He looked very big now and very much grown 
 up and Robin wondered, with a wild confusion send- 
 ing her blood tingling to her face, would he remember 
 that she had kissed him and called him her Prince? 
 She watched him, trembling. But no, he did not 
 remember ! 
 
 "Well, you've more than repaid me for that little 
 thing," he said. "Someone else would have found 
 you if I hadn't. And please promise, Miss Robin, 
 you won't take any more chances for me!" 
 
 So Robin locked her precious "pretend" away in 
 her heart not to be forgotten, but to be enjoyed, 
 as a big-little girl enjoys taking out childish toys 
 or dolls or fancies, dusting them carefully, caressing 
 them tenderly, putting them back reverently and 
 feeling tremendously grown-up!
 
 MADAME FORSYTH COMES HOME 317 
 
 A silvery, shimmery young moon shone down 
 upon two heads close together at a wide-open window. 
 The one was dark and the other red. And the same 
 young moon audaciously winked at the whispered 
 confidences exchanged in the brooding quiet of 
 the night. 
 
 "Oh, Robin, doesn't it seem an age since you 
 
 went off to Granger's ? So much has happened. 
 
 I don't feel like the same girl Tom Granger's 
 
 awfully nice looking his eyes are blue, Robin 
 
 oh, I won't let myself think of going to New 
 
 York until Mom and Pop are settled somewhere away 
 
 from the Mills Robin, you're so quiet 1 
 
 should think you'd be bursting " 
 
 "I'm glad my aunt was nice to Susy and your 
 mother and Dale. Beryl, she's going to make 
 Norris take that invention " 
 
 "Well, I never dreamed that old toy really 
 
 amounted to anything " 
 
 
 
 "Beryl, don't you love the stars? You're quiet 
 now " 
 
 Beryl giggled. 
 
 "Robin I just remembered ! Do you realize we 
 gave our Queen her own book for Christmas?" 
 
 "Beryl, as sure as anything ! Oh, how f many !"
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 
 
 IN a hammock hung between two leafing apple 
 trees, a woman lay, so very still that she seemed 
 sleeping. A fitful breeze stirred the pale foliage 
 over her head, now and then showering her with 
 pink petals from the lingering blossoms; from be- 
 neath her rose the damp sweet fragrance of soft earth 
 and green grass, near-by a meadow-lark sang plaint- 
 ively ; somewhere a robin called arrogantly to his mate 
 in the nest; from the valley, stretching below the 
 sloping orchard, a violet mist lifted. 
 
 A tender smile played over the lips of the reclining 
 woman and her eyes stared through the lacy canopy 
 of green into the blue sky, where fleecy clouds sailed 
 off to the west and south. 
 
 A lingering echo went singing through her heart. 
 "It is all yours, Moira Lynch! It is all yours!" 
 The beauty around her the promise of spring, the 
 green of orchard and meadow and distant hill, the 
 rest, the contentment the happiness, and oh, most 
 precious, the fulfilment. 
 
 There was never a day now, in Mother Moira's 
 life, so busy that she could not snatch a moment 
 to go over, in reverent appreciation, the blessings 
 that were hers. And no longer were her dreams 
 for nothing could change the dreaming heart of the 
 
 318
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 319 
 
 little woman for herself or even for her big Danny; 
 they were for her fine lad, a man now, and Beryl, 
 working so earnestly for her ambition, and little 
 Robin, who would always be little Robin, and the 
 imp of a Susy, ruddy cheeked and happy-hearted. 
 
 How long, long ago seemed those days when, a 
 slip of a girl, she had dreamed on that other hillside 
 of a future that would be hers; how dazzling had 
 been the pictures she had fancied; how much she 
 had dared to ask. In her youthful bravado she 
 had laughed at Destiny and had made so bold as to 
 declare Destiny might even then be weaving a bit 
 of gold into the drab fabric of her life. 
 
 (Faith, was not little Robin her bit of gold? 
 Had not the wonderful change begun in their lives 
 after little Robin came to the Manor?) 
 
 Five years had passed since she and her big 
 Danny had moved from the village to the little farm 
 that was "just around the corner." During them 
 she and big Danny had been alone a great deal of 
 the time, excepting for little Susy; for Dale and Beryl, 
 after settling them snugly in the old-fashioned farm- 
 house, (painted as white as white with a new barn 
 for the gentle-eyed cow, and a pen for the pigs, and a 
 trim little run-way for the chickens) had gone away, 
 Dale to an engineering college, Beryl to live with 
 Miss Allendyce and take her precious violin lessons, 
 and lessons in languages and science. But Mother 
 Moira was never lonesome, for mere miles could not
 
 320 RED-ROBIN 
 
 separate a heart like hers from those she loved! 
 
 There had been significant changes in the village 
 for her to watch develop. The old Mill cottages had 
 been torn down and across the river had been built 
 a cluster of white houses, each with its own yard 
 "going right around it," and trees and a bit of garden. 
 There was a new school house, too, and a new corps 
 of teachers, and a hospital and a library. Robin 
 and her aunt had opened this only a month before. 
 
 And the House of Laughter had been enlarged to 
 meet the increasing demands upon it; there were 
 rooms for the girls' clubs and the boys' clubs, and a 
 billiard room and a bowling alley, and an athletic 
 field with a basketball court and a baseball diamond. 
 
 (Sir Galahad in his scarlet coat still hung over 
 the mantel which Williams had built. Robin would 
 not let anyone change that.) 
 
 Mrs. Riley lived in the upper floor of the House 
 of Laughter and took care of it. 
 
 The Manor car, with Madame Forsyth, passed 
 often now through the streets of the village and from 
 it Madame nodded pleasantly to this person and that, 
 stopping sometimes to ask one Mill mother concern- 
 ing her sick child, another of her husband and an- 
 other whether she had finished the knit bed-spread 
 upon which Madame had found her working one 
 afternoon when she had called. Madame had herself 
 regularly visited the new Mill houses during the pro- 
 cess of construction and took delight in dropping in,
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 321 
 
 upoit the newly organized school while classes were 
 in session. 
 
 "I'll be the same proud, overbearing old lady," 
 she had told her lawyer, but she had been mistaken 
 she could never be quite that again, for she had found 
 too much pure delight in doing the little things Robin 
 quite artlessly suggested little things which had not 
 been easy at first and w r hich had seemed to demand 
 too great a sacrifice of her pride. 
 
 The passing of time for the three at the Manor, 
 Madame, Mrs. Budge and Harkness, was marked, 
 Mother Lynch well knew, by Robin's coming and 
 going. For, when her Jimmie had returned from 
 southern seas, Robin had insisted upon going straight 
 to him, and it was not until her aunt had laid aside 
 the last shred of her old prejudice and invited Robin's 
 father to the Manor for a long visit that Robin had 
 consented to look upon the Manor as her "home," 
 though, even then, she steadfastly asserted "part" of 
 her time must be spent with Jimmie. 
 
 While at the Manor James Forsyth had painted 
 his "Wood Sprite," which won for him quick and 
 wide recognition, and ever afterward Robin and 
 Madame Forsyth referred to it as "our picture." 
 
 No, Mother Moira was never lonesome. 
 
 A gay voice roused her now from her happy 
 reverie, footsteps rustled the grass, cool hands, with 
 a touch as light as the blowing petals, closed over 
 her eyes. 
 
 21
 
 322 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Dreaming again, little Mom? You're incur- 
 able .'" And Beryl, with a laugh, dropped upon the 
 ground close to the hammock, one hand closing over 
 her mother's. 
 
 "It's a bit of a cat-nap I'm stealing," fibbed 
 Mother Moira, blushing like a girl. Her eyes lin- 
 gered adoringly on the glowing, flushed face close to 
 hers. "Where have you been, Beryl?" 
 
 "Susy coaxed me off to her fairy spring. It's 
 really a lovely little nook she's found and she's made 
 a doll's house in the hollow of an old tree. She's a 
 funny little thing almost elfin, isn't she? Are 
 you sure she isn't too much trouble for you and 
 Dad, Mother?" 
 
 "Trouble? Bless the little heart of the colleen, 
 it's something happening every minute for it's an 
 imp of mischief she is, but, Beryl, I like it. It keeps 
 my own heart young." 
 
 "As though your heart would ever grow old! 
 You're like Robin. Oh, mother, you can't know 
 how lonesome I've been over there in Milan for the 
 sight of you and this little place. I think my soul, 
 the one poor dear Jacques Henri tried to find in me 
 and didn't wakened one night when I actually cried 
 myself to sleep just longing to feel your arms around 
 me! Oh, when one has a mother and a home like 
 mine to want to come to, it ought to be easy to keep 
 beautiful inside, the way the dear man said!" And 
 Beryl, staring thoughtfully out over the valley, did
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 323 
 
 not see the glow that transformed her mother's face. 
 
 A shrill whistle from the Mills echoed and re- 
 echoed through the valley. Beryl turned her head 
 suddenly and laid her cheek against the palm of her 
 mother's hand. 
 
 "Mother, I saw a lot of Tom Granger when I 
 was in Paris." 
 
 Mother Moira started ever so slightly, with the 
 barest twitching of the hand Beryl's cheek touched. 
 
 "He was very nice to me. Mother, are he and 
 and Robin awfully good friends?" 
 
 "What's in your heart, my girl?" 
 
 "Mom, couldn't Robin marry almost anybody? 
 She's such a dear and she's so rich and she's travelled 
 around so much." 
 
 "Why, bless the heart of her, she's nothing but 
 a child!" 
 
 "Mother!" Beryl's voice rang impatiently. 
 "We'll just never grow up in your eyes! Why, 
 Robin's twenty. Well, I should think anyone'd 
 like Tom Granger." 
 
 "Oh, my dear!" And Mother Moira, reading 
 the girl's heart with her wise mother-eyes, gave 
 a tiny sigh. Must the shadow of a heartache touch 
 the splendid friendship between these two, Beryl 
 and Robin? 
 
 The thought lingered with her while she watched 
 the girls come hand in hand out to the orchard from 
 the drive where Robin had left her roadster. Beryl
 
 324 RED-ROBIN 
 
 had only been home for three days and Robin came 
 out to the farm at every opportunity. 
 
 Her girls her tall, handsome Beryl with the 
 strong shoulders and the free swing of her, and little 
 Robin, with her deep blue eyes and her tender lips 
 and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her 
 walk the appearance of eagerness. 
 
 There was still so much to talk about that the 
 two girls lingered under the trees while Mother Moira 
 swung gently and listened and watched the dear 
 young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a week- 
 end at a duke's house; Robin had spent a month in 
 the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie; Dale had 
 brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from 
 an expedition he had made with an engineering gang 
 into the fastnesses of South America, and Beryl had 
 been asked to tour in the fall with the Cincinnati Sym- 
 phony and was going to accept. Their chatter came 
 back then to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the 
 library and the new teachers, who were Smith College 
 graduates, and Sophie Mack who had started a Girl 
 Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House 
 of Laughter. 
 
 "Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and 
 Dale coming!" cried Mother Moira, springing to 
 quick life. 
 
 "And Dale has a wonderful secret to tell, too," 
 laughed Robin, her eyes shining. 
 
 Beryl looked at her friend curiously Robin had
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 325 
 
 the "all-tight-inside" look that Beryl remembered 
 from the old days at the Manor. 
 
 "Do you know the secret?" she asked. 
 
 Robin's face flushed rose-red. "Y-yes. But I 
 promised Dale I wouldn't tell. We both want to 
 see your mother's face when she hears it." 
 
 "Well, I think you're mean to have a secret with 
 Dale that I don't know!" cried Beryl, with real 
 indignation. "Is it something that's going to make 
 Mom lots happier?" 
 
 "I hope so!" And to hide the tell-tale rose 
 on her face Robin threw her arms around Mother 
 Moira and kissed her. 
 
 "Faith, is it any happier I could be without my 
 heart just breaking?" 
 
 Dale came and they all, big Danny in his wheel 
 chair, ate supper on the broad porch where they could 
 enjoy the sunset. Beryl watched her brother with 
 admiring eyes he had grown so strong and big 
 and good-looking, his nice-fitting clothes set off 
 his broad shoulders so well, his voice had such a 
 ring of confidence. 
 
 "I've been offered the management of the Forsyth 
 Mills," he announced suddenly. 
 
 Then that was the secret! 
 
 "Really, truly?" exclaimed Beryl. 
 
 "And will ye take it, my boy?" asked big Danny, 
 a note of pride deepening his voice. 
 
 "My boy a manager!" trilled Mother Moira.
 
 326 RED-ROBIN 
 
 "Yes. I'll take it. I made one condition witH 
 Madame Forsyth and she granted it." And Dale 
 flashed a look across to Robin. Everyone followed 
 his glance and everyone read the truth in Robin's face. 
 
 "Robin Forsyth and you never breathed a 
 word!" cried Beryl, not knowing for the moment 
 whether to give way to great joy or indignation 
 that her friend had not confided in her. 
 
 With a quick little motion, Robin had slipped 
 to Mother Lynch's chair and, kneeling beside it, she 
 buried her face against the woman's heart. 
 
 "I didn't know myself," came in muffled tones 
 from the embrace. 
 
 "Are you happy, mother?" asked Dale, boyishly. 
 
 "Ah, I did not know I could be happier but, I 
 am !" And Mother Moira smiled through the tears 
 that brimmed in her eyes. 
 
 Beryl, staring at her mother and brother and her 
 friend, suddenly gave voice to a thought that had 
 come with such significance as to sweep away her 
 girlish reserve. 
 
 "Then it isn't Tom Granger at all! You don't 
 care a bit about him ?" 
 
 Robin's face lifted. "About Tom? Oh, good- 
 ness me, no. Why, he isn't worth Dale's little finger 
 Beryl Lynch, why do you ask me that?" 
 
 "Ohr nothing. Really, truly" And Beryl 
 escaped into the house. 
 
 *******
 
 A STORY AFTER THE STORY 327, 
 
 Robin drove Dale back to the village. At theS 
 turn of the road near the House of Laughter she 
 stopped the car that they might enjoy for a moment 
 the twilight glow of the valley. Lights twinkled 
 from the Mill houses across the river. From the 
 House of Laughter came the sound of singing. A 
 young crescent of a moon shone silvery against a 
 purple blue sky. 
 
 "Little Red-Robin," cried Dale, suddenly, "Are 1 
 you very sure ?" 
 
 "Sure of what?" Robin asked in a voice that; 
 trembled in spite of her. 
 
 "Someday you will be a rich girl. I am a > 
 working-man. What will the world say? They 
 may laugh at you!" 
 
 Robin's chin lifted. Had she ever reckoned hei* 
 gifts in dollars and cents? 
 
 "But you're my Prince !" she protested, proudly. 1 
 "Don't you remember? That night, a long, long 
 time ago, when you took me home, I called you 
 my Prince. You said, then, you couldn't stay witH 
 me that I'd have to find you. Well," her voice 
 dropped to a whisper, "I have."
 
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 GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 
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