acking.

Nothing exciting like going off to a house-party of young people with
two bags full of lovely clothes would ever, _ever_ happen to her!

In fact _nothing_ exciting would ever happen. She'd just go on and on
wanting things all her life.

She did not envy Robin, for Robin was such a dear no one could ever envy
her, but she wished she could have just _some_ of the chances Robin
had--and did not appreciate. She straightened. Oh, with just one of
Robin's dresses, couldn't she sail into that drawing room at Wyckham and
hold her own with the proudest of them? Mrs. Granger and the haughty
Alicia had no terrors for _her_, and if they tried to snub her, she'd
put her violin under her chin and then--

The peal of the doorbell reverberated through the quiet house. Beryl
heard Harkness' slow step, as he went to the door; then it climbed the
stairs and stopped outside of Robin's room.

"Miss Beryl--a telegram."

"For me?" Beryl drew back. She had never received a telegram in her life
and the yellow envelope frightened her.

"The boy said as to sign here."

Beryl wrote her name mechanically in letters that zigzagged crazily.
Harkness lingered while she tore open the envelope, concern struggling
with curiosity on his face.

"It's from Robin's guardian. He--he wants--oh, Harkness, am I reading
_right_? He says I must come to New York at _once_--tonight, if I can.
He'll meet me--it's _extremely_ important. Why, Harkness, what in the
world has happened? It doesn't sound awful, does it? Did you ever know
of anything so mysterious in your life?"

Harkness never had. He read the telegram with brows drawn together.

"Mebbe they left out something," he suggested, turning the sheet and
scrutinizing its back.

"Well, I'll _have_ to go." Beryl's voice betrayed her deep excitement.
"I _can_ catch the evening train. Oh, Harkness, how often I've watched
that go out and wished I was on it! And now I'm going to be. I'm going
to New York! Harkness, be a _dear_ and hurry some dinner, will you? I'll
pack. And oh, will you take a note to mother for me? I'll not have time
to stop. Or wait--I won't tell her I'm going until I know what it's
for--she'd worry. Isn't that best?"

"Yes, that's best. I'll get you some nice dinner, don't you fret. And
Joe'll take you down to the station in the truck, he will, for like as
not he'll be meetin' the train anyways for his wife's niece who lives
Boston way. She's a-goin' to help Joe's wife--"