Beryl had only been home for three days and Robin came out to
the farm at every opportunity.
Her girls--her tall, handsome Beryl with the strong shoulders and the
free swing of her, and little Robin, with her deep blue eyes and her
tender lips and her alive hair, and the little limp that gave her walk
the appearance of eagerness.
There was still so much to talk about that the two girls lingered under
the trees while Mother Moira swung gently and listened and watched the
dear young faces. Beryl had been the guest for a weekend at a duke's
house; Robin had spent a month in the Canadian Rockies with her Jimmie;
Dale had brought home all sorts of tales of adventures from an
expedition he had made with an engineering gang into the fastnesses of
South America, and Beryl had been asked to tour in the fall with the
Cincinnati Symphony and was going to accept. Their chatter came back
then to Wassumsic and the new hospital and the library and the new
teachers, who were Smith College graduates, and Sophie Mack who had
started a Girl Scout troop, and the new athletic field at the House of
Laughter.
"Bless me, it's forgetting the supper I am, and Dale coming!" cried
Mother Moira, springing to quick life.
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