Harkness, you're a dear," Robin cried, with a look that made
the old man's heart almost burst with affection.
"But I won't tell Hannah Budge any more than she has to know," he
thought, as he went off to do Robin's bidding.
With Williams and his wife and his wife's sister, who had married the
telegraph operator at the little station, pressed into the work, the
empty cottage at the turn of the road took on rapid changes. Windows
were opened, doors were thrown wide, letting in the sweet cold air;
under the magic of strong soap and good muscle the old wood-work shone
with cleanliness; the faded walls lost their melancholy. Harkness and
Williams hauled down a load of wood and piled it high by the back door;
Mrs. Lynch transformed the rusty stove into a shiny, efficient, eager
thing.
Williams, who was very clever and would have been a carpenter if he
hadn't been a chauffeur, built tables out of rough boards and, in the
living room, put up shelves for books and the window seat Robin wanted.
Robin and Beryl flew about in everyone's way, eager to help and generous
with advice.
"There, I'd say things were pretty nice," exclaimed Williams, at the end
of the sixth day of work, stepping back to survey with satisfaction the
chair he had made out of "odds and ends.
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