"
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 following 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 absentmindedly. However,
unknowingly, she did give two helpful hints, upon which Robin seized
gratefully.
"Mother says that what Wassumsic ought to have 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.
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