So she flushed and answered shyly: "I--don't--know."
"I'm ever so much obliged, Miss Robin, for your interest and your
worry--over me. It gives a fellow a jolly feeling of importance to know
that a little girl is bothering her head over his luck. And Miss Robin,
you've made things tremendously bright for my mother this winter--and
for my father, too. I didn't know whether mother'd be happy here in
Wassumsic after being so busy in New York but it was the only way I
could stop her from working her head off and I'd decided _my_ shoulders
were broad enough to support my family. And you've done a lot for Beryl,
too. I can see it."
"Oh, _don't_!" cried Robin. As if she could let him thank her for Mother
Lynch--as if the debt were not on her side. They had reached the Manor
gate now and Dale handed her the packages.
"Everything will come out all right, Miss Robin, so don't you be
worrying your little head," he admonished and strangely enough Robin
answered him with a smile. _He_ was different.
But Robin's "bad" day had not ended yet. Beryl's "sulk" had grown, like
the gathering clouds of an impending storm, into a big gloom that did
not lighten even when, after dinner, the girls were left alone in the
library with their beloved "one thousand and seventy-four" books.
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