"They usually go to sleep at seven, I believe," remarked Coombe, "but of course I am not an authority."
Robin was not asleep, though she had long been in bed with her eyes closed. She had heard Andrews say to her sister Anne:
"Lord Coombe's the reason. She does not want her boy to see or speak to him, so she whisked him back to Scotland."
"Is Lord Coombe as bad as they say?" put in Anne, with bated breath.
"As to his badness," Robin heard Andrews answer, "there's some that can't say enough against him. It's what he is in this house that does it. She won't have her boy playing with a child like Robin."
Then—even as there flashed upon Robin the revelation of her own unfitness—came a knock at the door.
She was taken up, dressed in her prettiest frock and led down the narrow stairway. She heard the Lady say:
"Shake hands with Lord Coombe."
Robin put her hand behind her back—she who had never disobeyed since she was born!
"Be pretty mannered, Miss Robin my dear," Andrews instructed, "and shake hands with his Lordship."