obin, of Harkness,
when even Percival Tubbs regretted, with a sigh, that Mrs. Granger might
not find it possible to come.

"Well, you might say she's next lydy to Madame herself," explained
Harkness. "In the old days her people and the Manor people were thick
like and visited backward and forward. And there was talk of young
Christopher some day marrying the young lydy, Miss Alicia. I hear tell
his death was a sad blow to them. They haven't been coming much to the
Manor since, but we laid it to Madame's queer ways and the gloom."

"Will the others be able to come? Won't Mrs. Budge have _lots_ too much
food?"

"Well, you might say most will make it, for they keep the post roads
open. We'll hope for the best, missy," he added, interpreting Robin's
anxious questioning as an expression of disappointment.

But Robin's sudden concern over the party had nothing to do with the
coming of Mrs. Granger or anyone else. As she had stood in the window,
her nose flattened against the pane, staring out at the snowy slopes,
she had been suddenly inspired by a beautiful plan. She turned to Beryl.

"Can something be sent up from New York in a day?"

"Depends." Beryl answered shortly. "What?"

With one of the lightning-like decisions, characteristic of her, Robin
decided not to take Beryl into her confidence--just yet.

"Oh, I was thinking. Something about my party. I'll tell you--later."

Beryl stared at Robin a little suspiciously--Robin looked queer,
all-tight-inside, as though she'd made up her mind to do something. It
was the new Robin again. Oh, well, if she didn't want to tell--

After luncheon Robin donned her warm outer garments and slipped out of
the house while Beryl was practicing. To carry out her plan, now fully
grown, she must send a telegram and see Mrs. Lynch.

Two hours later, flushed and excited, she hunted down Mrs. Budge, whom
she found mixing savory concoctions in a huge bowl.

"M'm, how good things smell," she began, to break down the hostility she
saw in Budge's eye, "Is that for the party?"

"'S going to be," and Budge stirred more vigorously than ever.

"Mrs. Budge, will there be enough food for--some extra ones--I've
invited or I'm--going to invite?"

Budge dropped her spoon. "Well, no one ever went hungry in _this_
house," she answered crisply. "May I ask who _your_ guests are?" Budge
permitted herself the pleasure of a meaning inflection on the "your."

"Well, I'm not quite sure--yet, only I w