The muscles of
his face relaxed; he ran his fingers through his thick hair, red like
the child's, with a gesture of throwing off some horrible nightmare. To
Dale he looked very boyish--with a little of Robin's own cherubic
expression.
"Well, say, you gave me a fright, child. And you must promise not to do
it again. Why, I can't ever leave you alone unless you do."
He turned to Dale, who stood, lingering, loath to leave the little Robin
under the doubtful protection her Jimmie offered. "I'm no end grateful
to you, my boy. If there's anything I can do for you--" He slipped one
hand mechanically into his pocket.
"_I_ don't want anything." Dale spoke curtly and stepped back. "It
wasn't any bother; it's a nice night to walk."
With a child's quick intuition Robin realized that her gallant Prince
was about to slip out of her sight. Her Jimmie had pulled his hand from
his pocket and was extending it to the boy. He was not even inviting him
to come in and smoke like he always invited Mr. Tony and Gerald and all
the others. But of course Princes wouldn't smoke, anyway.
She waited until her father had finished his thanks, then, stepping up
to Dale, she reached out two small arms and by holding on to Dale's,
drew herself up almost to the boy's chin.
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