go to
sleep. She did not want to go to sleep. Up to this day she had been
just little Robin Forsyth, "Red-Robin," at Gray Manor to let Jimmie
have his chance; happy, because Jimmie was having his chance and Beryl
was with her and Beryl was unfailingly interesting.

Now she realized that a Forsyth couldn't be just "anything." A Forsyth
ought to care about those awful Mills, that were in some sort of a
"boneyard," and about the people who worked in them--especially poor
Sarah Castle's brother and sister. And there were probably many other
boys and girls. She'd ask Mrs. Lynch--or Dale.

Beryl stirred and Robin ventured to speak.

"Beryl, are you awake? If Mr. Norris bought that invention of your
brother's, would it make things easier for--the Mill people?"

Beryl jerked herself up on her elbow.

"Red-Robin Forsyth, are you crazy? Fussing over that absurd toy of
Dale's at this hour? Why should _you_ care?" Beryl sank back into her
pillows and stretched. "Didn't Mr. Kraus have the most glorious eyes?"

Robin answered with amazing positiveness. "No, I hated his eyes. They
were not true eyes. But--I like Dale--lots." And just here, for the
second time, she locked her lips on her precious secret for Dale must
never know that she remembered him; all that belonged to her childhood.
Beryl might laugh, too, as she often did at her "fancies," and call her
"funny."

Thinking of Dale brought her thoughts back to the Mills so that while
Beryl snuggled her sleepy head back into her pillow, she stared at the
thin shaft of light that shone under the door and wished she was big
instead of "a little bit of a thing" and very wise so that she would
know what to do to show these people in Wassumsic that she--a Forsyth,
_did_ care.

CHAPTER XII

ROBIN WRITES A LETTER

Cornelius Allendyce had returned to New York from Gray Manor with his
mind pleasantly at ease so far as Gordon Forsyth was concerned. His
associates noticed a certain smugness and satisfaction about him and
they often caught him smiling at inappropriate moments and then pulling
himself together as though his thoughts had been wandering far from
fields of law.

Cornelius Allendyce _did_ feel pleased with himself. How many men would
have dared put this thing through the way he had? And how well it had
all turned out; Madame somewhere seeking her "rest," living in her past,
her mind undisturbed, Jimmie sailing away to get inspiration, and little
Robin happy in