"She told me to," said Robin.
She felt her colour rise and heard Green laugh. They were almost out of earshot before he said, "All right, boy! I'll let you off this time. Don't do it again!"
She leaned back in her chair, and re-opened her book. But she did not read for some time. Somehow she felt glad—quite unreasonably glad again—that Robin had been let off.
CHAPTER VII
THE OFFER
"Well, it ain't none of my business," said Mrs. Rickett, with a sniff. "Nor it ain't yours either. But did you ever know anyone as wore anything the likes of that before?"
She shook out for her husband's inspection a filmy garment that had the look of a baby's robe that had grown up, before spreading it on her kitchen table to iron.
"Ah!" said Rickett, ramming a finger into the bowl of his pipe. "What sort of a thing is that now?"
"What sort of a thing, man? Why, a night-dress—of course! What d'you think?" Mrs. Rickett chuckled at his ignorance. "And that flimsy—why I'm almost afraid to touch it. It's the quality, you see."
"Ah!" said the smith vaguely.