Perhaps they had helped themselves
to the Manor's most precious book! She gulped, looked frantically at
Beryl, who, guessing her intention, gave violent signs of warning, to
which she paid no heed.
"Why, I'm Robin Forsyth, and this is Beryl Lynch who lives with me at
the Manor. We took the book from the library there because there are
ever and ever so many, and we thought you might be lonely--when winter
comes--and enjoy it."
"You are Robin Forsyth?" The old lady said the words slowly.
"My real name is Gordon Forsyth, but I've always been called Red-Robin.
I'm living at Gray Manor now--over in Wassumsic. My father--he's not one
of the rich Forsyths, you see--is an artist and he's travelling with Mr.
Tony Earle, who writes, you know. I wish you could come to the Manor."
Robin's heart was light now, having, by confession, cleared itself of
its moment's dread, and she rattled on, quite oblivious to Beryl's scowl
and the Queen's searching scrutiny. "It's lovely and old. Madame
Forsyth, my great-aunt, isn't there, though--at least now. She's--she's
travelling. We have a tutor and I have a guardian who lets me do about
what I please.
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