"It has been the pleasantest, most interesting, most exceptional business interview I ever had, my dear young lady," said the old gentleman. "I shall go to Fayre myself, for I should like to see your mother. Good-morning, and I shall be obliged to you if you will consider the invention mine until you have refused my offer for it."
"Yes, sir," said Rob, and Mr. Baldwin, to her intense relief, bore her away.
"Not another night, dear little Robin?" hinted Mr. Baldwin. "Couldn't you, wouldn't you, telegraph your mother, and come back with me to gladden Mrs. Baldwin and Hester's eyes with the sight of you, and their hearts with our good news?"
"Oh, no; please not this time, dear, kind Mr. Baldwin," cried Rob. "Don't you see how I must ache to get back? It was such a dreadful thing to do, and now it's done, I must go home to my little grey house and blessed Grey people."
"I know you must—you shall," said Mr. Baldwin. "I'll take you to lunch, and then put you on the train myself, and speed you away to Fayre."
At the Grand Central Station Mr. Baldwin established Rob in luxury in the parlor-car, and held her hands fast. "I can't tell you how glad I am you have come into our lives, Robin Bobs bahadur," he said. "You shall not slip out again, I promise you."
"Wait till you see Wythie and Prue," said Rob, smiling through her tears.
"Rob will do for me," said Mr. Baldwin, and, stooping, kissed her cheek, "for her dear father, and for herself," he added, kissing the other. And so, victorious, and with new friends, Rob set out on the journey back to Fayre.