that old wheel last month and died because her body
wasn't nourished enough to stand under the amputation? A lot they
cared--just one bit of machinery gone for a day--another--"

"_Dale_--" cried Mrs. Lynch, in distressed embarrassment, and suddenly
everyone looked at Robin.

Robin had been listening to Adam Kraus and Dale with deep interest. It
was not until Mrs. Lynch exclaimed and all eyes turned in her direction
that she connected what they were saying with her own self. Under Dale's
sudden scrutiny she flushed.

"I forgot you were here, little Miss Forsyth." But this was so far from
an apology that Mrs. Lynch looked more distressed than before and Beryl
glared at her brother.

"Oh, _please_ don't mind me," begged Robin. _She_ was glad Dale did not
say he was sorry for what he had been saying; she wanted to know more.
She wanted to tell them that _she_ called the Mills a Giant and that she
hated them and that Cornelius Allendyce had told her she should look for
a Jack who could climb the Bean Stalk, only she was afraid of the
stranger and a little of Dale, too. "Won't you tell me all about
the--the Castle girl?"

"There isn't much to tell about her that's different from ninety-nine
other cases. She was supporting a younger brother and sister. The
brother's only twelve years old but he had to go to work--said he was
sixteen. The kid sister helps the grandmother as much as she can."

"Do they live in one of these houses?"

"In the old village. They're cheaper, you see. The boy can't earn as
much as Sarah Castle did and they had to move up the river."

"Could I go to see them--sometime?"

Mrs. Lynch answered for Dale. "Of course you can, dearie. And I'll go
with you. It's from my own county they say the grandmother comes and
likely she'll know some of the old people."

"Oh, will you?" Robin's eyes shone like two deep pools reflecting
starlight. "I'd like to know _everyone_ here in the village and what
they do. Perhaps the--the other Forsyths wanted to really know the Mill
people, too, only they--they've been so unhappy. But I'm different, you
see--I'm a girl and so sort of--little."

"Bless the warm little heart of her--defending her own," thought Mrs.
Lynch, and Dale, his face softening until it was boyish, smiled and
said: "You _are_ a little thing, aren't you?"

At his smile, a wave of memory rushed over Robin with such suddenness
that a breathless "oh" escaped her parted lips. A dark night and lonely