Donal took a quick step forward.
“Are you her mother?” he asked eagerly.
“Of course I am.”
Donal quite flushed with excitement.
“She doesn’t know,” he said.
He turned on Robin.
“She’s your Mother! You thought you hadn’t one! She’s your Mother!”
“But I am the Lady Downstairs, too.” Feather was immensely amused. She was not subtle enough to know why she felt a perverse kind of pleasure in seeing the Scotch woman standing so still, and that it led her into a touch of vulgarity. “I wanted very much to see your boy,” she said.
“Yes,” still gently from Mrs. Muir.
“Because of Coombe, you know. We are such old friends. How queer that the two little things have made friends, too. I didn’t know. I am so glad I caught a glimpse of you and that I had seen the portrait. Good morning. Goodbye, children.”