Just as the last note died away a bell pealed through the house. Because it was still Christmas, really being only nine o'clock, everyone looked for a surprise. And a surprise it was, indeed, when Harkness placed an impressive envelope in Robin's hands and said that a stranger had brought it to the door.
"He looked like one of these motorcycle men, but before I could as much as say 'Good evening' he was off in the dark."
Robin studied the address, which was printed. It gave no clue whatsoever. Nor was there anything else on the envelope. She broke the sealed flap, with an excited giggle. Five crisp bank-notes fell out.
"For goodness' sake," cried Beryl, staring. "Who ever sent them?"
"To Miss Gordon Forsyth. Please use this money for your House of Laughter. I am deeply interested in your experiment. Frankly, I do not believe it will work; but if it does my little contribution will be well spent; and if it doesn't, my own conviction will be justified.
Your Friend near the Rushing Water."
Beryl squealed with delight. "How larky to have her remember every solitary thing you told her, Robin—even what we called her house. What are you going to do with it all? I wish I could get money like that."
Robin stood staring at the letter—not at all jubilant over the unexpected gift. "I wish she hadn't said she didn't believe the experiment would work. It isn't an experiment and it will work. I'm not trying anything, am I?" appealing to Mrs. Lynch, who hastily assured her with a "No, dearie." Then Robin gathered up the bank-notes.
"Though I did wish we had more nice things for the house and now we can get them. But isn't this an awful lot of money?" For she had seen a one and two ciphers in a corner of one bank-note. "I never had so much in my life."
At this Mrs. Budge sniffed and, the Christmas celebration apparently abandoned in the excitement of the strange letter, she departed kitchenward.