taken the annoyance of Robin's
high-handed absentedness out on the remaining pupil. With Beryl cross
she could not tell her that she had gotten Dale into trouble. She must
meet the situation alone.

She must warn Dale, first of all. And to do that she must resort to the
distasteful expedient of hanging about in the groceries-and-notions
store until Dale passed by after work or stopped for mail as he might
possibly do.

She found no difficulty in getting away alone, for Beryl, in the sulks,
had buried herself in the deep window-seat of the library. Down in the
store she startled the old storekeeper by an almost wholesale order of
candies and cookies and topped it off by a demand for a pink knitting
wool, which, Robin hoped mightily, might be found only on the topmost
shelf. Then, while he was rummaging and grumbling under his breath, she
hurriedly told him she _didn't_ want it and dropped a crisp five dollar
bill on the counter, for the men were pouring down the street and any
moment Dale might come.

No coquetting miss, contriving to meet the lad of her fancy, could have
planned things to more of a nicety; Robin, her arms full of her absurd
purchases, came out of the store just as Dale and Adam Kraus walked
along. It was not so much the unusualness of the girl's being there--and
alone, that brought Dale to a quick stop; it was the imploring look in
her wide and serious eyes.

"Where's Beryl--or that chauffeur?" He took her packages from her.

"I want to talk to you. I _have_ to. Will you walk just a little way
home with me?"

"Why, what's up? Of course I will. Come, let's cut through here." For
Dale realized that many curious eyes were staring at them, and not too
kindly. Someone laughed. He would be accused of "truckling" to a
Forsyth, which, just then, was likely to bring contempt upon him.

Neither he nor Robin saw the incongruous picture they made; she in her
warm suit of softest duvetyn and rich with fur, he in his working
clothes, swinging a dinner pail in one hand and in the other balancing
her knobby packages. All she thought of was that this was Dale, the
Prince who had once befriended her, whose make-believe presence had
often gladdened her lonely childhood hours, and who was in danger now;
and he looked down into the little face under its fringe of flame-red
hair and wondered what in the world made it so tragic and why it
strangely haunted him as belonging to some far-off picture in the past.

Vehem