"Where's Beryl?" she demanded.
"Miss Beryl's gone, Missy. She got up early and went off directly she
had breakfast."
"Did she--did she have a bag?" faltered poor Robin.
"Why, yes, Missy, she had that bag she come with 'near as I can
remember. Didn't she tell you she was going?"
"Well--not so early," Robin defended.
"If it's a quarrel, and young people fall out more times 'n not, Missy,
don't you feel badly. Miss Beryl'll be back here, mark my words! She's
smart enough to know when things are soft."
"Don't you ever, _ever_ say that again, Harkness! Beryl didn't want to
stay here in the first place. She's proud and she's fine and she had
ambitions that are grander than anything the rest of us ever dreamed of.
It's just because it _is_ soft here that she didn't want to stay. She
thought she wasn't really earning anything. I should think--" and oh,
how her voice flayed poor trembling Harkness, "I should think if you
_cared_ anything about me you'd be dreadfully sorry to have me left
alone here--"
"Now, Missy! Miss Robin! Old Harkness'll go straight down to the village
and bring Miss Beryl--"
Robin laid her hand on the old man's arm.
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