ed
what Beryl was doing now and where she was--probably upstairs somewhere.

"I'll go and find her!"

This was more easily said than done for Gray Manor had wiggly wings and
corridors turning in every direction and little stairs here and there so
that one first went up and then down and then up again. Robin had almost
given up her search and had just about decided she was lost, for turn
whichever way she might, nothing seemed familiar, when she heard the
harsh, scraping strains of a violin, vibrant with stormy feeling.

"I'll find that and then maybe it'll be someone who can tell me how to
get back to the library," she thought, laughing silently at the
ridiculousness of being lost in a house, anyway.

She traced the music to a turning which led into a narrow hallway. At
its end a door stood ajar and from it a light streamed. Robin
approached the door on tip toe that she might not disturb the music,
then stood still on its threshold in delighted amazement for the violin
player was the girl for whom she was seeking.

At sight of Robin the girl flung the violin upon the bed.

"Oh, please don't stop. May I come in? I was hunting for you."

It was an absurdly small room as compared to the great rooms below, and
very bare. There was one chair which Beryl, scowling, pushed forward, at
the same time sitting upon the bed. Her eyes said plainly: "What do you
want?"

Robin ignored her unfriendliness. She sat down on the edge of the bed,
close to Beryl.

"I'm awfully glad I found you," she ventured. "You see you're the only
other _young_ person in this house. Though I never had any chums like
most girls do, Jimmie always seemed young and the birds and the flowers
and the Farri children made it--" Robin stopped suddenly, for Beryl was
staring at her with rude amusement. "I--I thought it would be so nice if
you--and I--could be--sort of chums," she managed to finish.

Beryl tossed her head as she moved away, shutting the violin in its case
with an angry little slam.

"I guess it _would_ be sort of," she mocked.

"What do you mean?" Poor Robin's heart beat furiously; it had taken all
the courage she could muster to force her advance upon this girl and
Beryl's rebuff hurt her deeply. She flushed at Beryl's scornful laugh.

"Why--we're as far apart as the poles," Beryl answered. "You're--Gordon
Forsyth. And I'm just Beryl Lynch."

Robin's eyes were like a baby's in their lack of understanding.

"I don't see--" she bega