He had gone there to wait while Madame Forsyth freshened herself after
her long ride. And while he waited, in considerable apprehension, he
planned the course he would follow; if Madame refused to accept little
Red-Robin as her heir, because she was a girl and _different_, why, he'd
take her back with him to his own home. She could live with him and his
sister until Jimmie came back and he'd even adopt her if Jimmie would
let him. And he'd take Beryl, too, if Robin wished--and he'd see Susy
was put with some nice family.
But where in the world had Robin found her aunt--or her aunt found
Robin. Everyone acted as though they were knocked stupid by the
mystery--no one had offered a word of explanation. He rubbed his
forehead as though it might have circles, too.
"Which shall we hear first?" a voice asked behind him, "How _you_
happened to bring little Robin here--or how _I_ did?"
The words startled him more because of their tone than their
unexpectedness. And turning, he saw (to his immense relief) that Madame
Forsyth was smiling--and in her eyes was a softened look, though they
were shadowed with fatigue.
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