"Well--Miss Robin is a Forsyth and after all that's happened today, the
Forsyths aren't very popular with the Mill people. You mustn't blame
them too much," turning to Robin. "They're not in the mood to be
patronized and they look upon--all this--as a sort of--oh, charity."
Robin looked so bewildered and so small and so distressed that Dale laid
his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. His voice rang tender like his
mother's. "Don't you be a-worrying your kind little heart! And if you
begin right, you'll get your House of Laughter across to them--yet."
"Oh, what do you mean?" Robin caught desperately at the straw he
offered.
"Let them pay for it. They can. And they'll be willing to--when they get
the idea."
"But I wanted it to be--my gift."
"The opportunity for them to have it _will_ be your gift."
Mrs. Lynch suddenly beamed as though she saw a rift in all the clouds.
"Sure, that's the way Miss Lewis talked. And I forgetting it! Let them
pay as much as they can and it's a lot more they'll be a-treasuring
what's theirs. And no charity about it at all at all! These folks are
good, honest folks, dearie, and it's self-respecting they like to feel
and a-paying for what they get whether it's the food they eat or a bit
of fun.
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