Though Mrs. Moira would, of course, have given her children anything
they wanted that was hers, she hesitated now, not from reluctance to
part with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent past
came the old father's words: "They are only beads. But they'll remind
you of this day." She had been seventeen then--a slip of a girl. Beryl
was almost sixteen now.
"The shame to me! Sure, it's only beads they are!" she laughed, with a
little catch in her voice. "Of course you shall take them."
CHAPTER X
THE LADY OF THE RUSHING WATERS
"What'll we do today?"
Beryl asked the question, turning from her post between the curtains of
Robin's sitting-room. Not in a tone of complaint did she speak, rather
as though weighing which pastime would be most worthy of the unexpected
holiday.
For poor Percival Tubbs had "neuralgy" and could not leave his room;
Harkness had told them when he carried in their breakfast.
"_This_ is just the kind of a day you'd like _something_ to happen,"
Beryl went on, permitting a sigh to convey how much she would welcome
that something. "It's all gray and mysterious.
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