"Oh, what are you doing?" cried Robin in alarm.
"I'm going--that's what. She fired me."
Robin's first thought upon awaking that morning had been of Beryl; she
had suffered the keenest impatience all through the trying morning,
longing to go in search of her new friend. She could not lose her
now--for a hundred Budges.
"Oh, I won't let you go!"
"A lot _you_ could do!" cried Beryl scornfully, tears very close. "I
just can't please the old thing. But I hate to go home." She sat down,
dolefully, on the edge of the bed. "I wanted to stay until I had earned
two hundred dollars."
Two hundred dollars! That seemed such a very big amount of money to
Robin that she sat silent, thinking about it.
Beryl, misinterpreting her quiet, tossed her head. "I s'pose that
doesn't mean much to you. But it does to me--'specially when I have to
earn it." Then, with a flash of temper: "What do you know about wanting
some one thing with all your whole heart and knowing just where you can
get it and not having the money?"
Beryl made her tragedy very real and pouring out her troubles always
brought her a grain of comfort.
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