"Bad! Pretty bad!"
"Where does my moth-er come?"—timidly.
The question embarrassed. "Er—the place is full of carriage-lamps," he began; "and—and side-lights, and search-lights, and—er—lanterns."
She looked concerned. "I can't guess."
"Just ordinary lanterns," he added. "You see, the Madam comes to—to Robin Hood's Barn."
"Robin Hood's Barn!"
"Exactly. Nice day, isn't it?"
By the expression on his face, Gwendolyn judged that Robin Hood's Barn—of which she had often heard—was a most undesirable spot. "Is it far?" she asked, swallowing.
"No. Only—we'll have to go around it."
Somehow, all at once, he seemed the one friend she had. She put out a hand to him. "You will go with me?" she begged. "Oh, I want to find my fath-er, and my moth-er!"