The likes of you worryin' your little
head over things you don't know anything about!"

Robin could have cried with vexation. She _must_ make Mrs. Lynch
understand her--Mrs. Lynch was her one hope. She gave a little stamp of
her foot as she burst out: "I'm little but that's no reason I can't
think of things. I'm fifteen. Dale said that the Forsyth's didn't care
and they ought to care--and I'm a Forsyth. I want to know everyone in
the Mill neighborhood and how they live and what they do. And I want
them to have--fun. Beryl said your Miss Lewis said everyone ought to
have fun. I--I don't know just how to begin--but I'm going to."

Mrs. Moira patted her hand. To herself she was saying: "The blessed
heart of her, she doesn't even know what she's talking about, poor
lamb," but aloud: "That you shall and if I can help you, I will."

Robin's eyes glowed. "Oh, _thank_ you. You don't know how hard it is for
me to think just what to do. Lovely plans keep popping into my head and
then I think maybe they're silly and I can't tell about them--I just
have to feel them. I'd like to begin with the little children. If my
guardian says we may, can't we open that old cottage down by the bridge
and make it into a--a sort of play-house? There could be a play-yard and
next spring we could make gardens and we could fix one room up with
pretty pictures and have books and games--and a fireplace and
window-seats. Oh, _does_ that sound silly?" Robin brought her enthusiasm
to an abrupt, imploring finish.

"Dearie me--no." There were no reserves in Mrs. Moira's approval. With
an imagination as quick as Robin's she saw the old cottage--it was a
charming old house, snuggled under elms, half-covered in summer with
rambling vines and pink blossoms--alive with romping, happy-voiced
children, some poring over pretty picture-books, others listening to a
story, some working in a garden--some just tumbling about on the soft
grass in a pure exuberance of youthful joy.

"We'll call it the House of Laughter. I always think of names before
anything else. And maybe, some day, the older girls--girls like me--will
use it, too. I'd like to begin by knowing little Susy Castle."

Mrs. Lynch promised to take her the next day to the old village where
Susy lived.

"I'll come down right after our school work is over. Beryl won't mind
because she'll want to practice. And, please, Mrs. Lynch, don't tell
Dale, will you?"

Mrs. Lynch demurred at this, for already s