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Abbott, Jane, 1881-

"Red-Robin"

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 comes 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 _everyone_ 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 _are_ a little thing, aren't you?"
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.


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