You see, first my aunt and my guardian thought I was a
boy--the Forsyths have always _been_ boys; and it was a dreadful shock,
I guess, when my guardian found out I was a girl--and such a small
girl--and lame, too. I think, though, he's forgotten that, now. But the
housekeeper never _will_ forgive me. And my great-aunt doesn't know,
yet. I wish for her sake, I could change myself into a handsome young
man like young Christopher Forsyth who died--but I can't, so I'm just
going to be as good a Forsyth as I can and make up to them all
for--being a girl."
"Whom do you mean--'them all?'" asked the Queen. She had dropped into a
chair and turned her head toward the fire, in very much the same
attitude she had held upon their first visit.
Robin, encouraged, squatted on the hearth rug, the big dog beside her,
and clasped her hands over her knee.
"Oh, I don't mean just Madame Forsyth and my guardian, though I don't
think he cares, now, or that cross old housekeeper; I mean--all the Mill
people. You see the Mills have grown very fast and there are lots and
lots of people working in them, but Mr. Norris, he's the superintendent,
is very old-fashioned and he'll never improve things.
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