Mr. Baldwin took her hands with the fatherly affection that he always showed her, almost equal to that which he gave to his own girl.
"It was fine, Rob; really fine, a gavotte in colouring and execution worthy the old days of Daly's Theatre, and the dances he used to give us in 'Much Ado' and 'Twelfth Night.' You look like a dryad in your green, my Robin. And how really magnificent Prue is going to be! Hers is wonderful beauty for a girl of sixteen. I have a ward of mine here who says he never dreamed of such a girl. He wants to speak to Prue. Shall I take him over there?"
"He is a nice boy, Mr. Baldwin?" asked Rob.
"What a dragon of an elder sister—and only two years the elder!" laughed Mr. Baldwin. "Trust me, Rob, not to introduce any but nice boys to my Grey girls! This is not precisely a boy, though. He is twenty-four, and that is a great age compared to sixteen. He is still my ward, because I was to take charge of his property, by his father's will, until he was thirty. I'll go take him to Prue. Mr. Armstrong is here, and wants to see you."
"Mr. Armstrong who bought Patergrey's patent?" cried Rob.
"The very same. He has never forgotten your describing it to him in his office, so frightened, yet so brave," said Mr. Baldwin. "He heard of this entertainment, and came out for your sake."
"What a lovely world this is!" laughed Rob. "I'll go find him." And she moved off in search of her elderly acquaintance, looking back to see Mr. Baldwin taking up to radiant Prue a young man whose face was turned from her, but whose "back looked well-bred" Rob thought.
Her progress towards Mr. Armstrong was impeded by congratulations, but at last Rob reached him.
"I am glad to see that you have not forgotten me," said the old gentleman, grasping the hand she extended.
"I am not likely ever to forget you," returned Rob simply.