“I put your things in your room, Miss Robin,” Danny said. “Got plenty of wood? I got a lot cut outside.”
“I’ll want a big log for the dining-room fire after tea, thanks, Danny.”
“Right-oh. I’ll go an’ ’ave a bit of a wash.” He went out clumsily, and Robin finished her preparations.
“There!” she said at length. “I’ll shut the door, and we’ll be all cosy and comfortable. I can hardly realize that I’m back, unless I keep looking at you all the time! Let me bring your tea to the couch, Mummie, dear.”
“No, indeed,” said Mrs. Hurst, with decision. “I’m not so bad as that.” She got up and came across to where Robin stood, smiling down at her. “Let me wash my hands, and I shall be able to enjoy the luxury of sitting down with my daughter.”
“If only Miss Stone regarded me as you do, how happy she might be!” remarked Robin. “She has a total lack of appreciation of my finer qualities.” Over their meal she told her mother the harrowing story of the cream-puffs, and had the satisfaction of making her laugh more than once. To anyone who knew Miss Stone the mental vision of her plunging into Ruby Bennett’s discarded delicacy was not without humour.
“I don’t approve, of course,” said Mrs. Hurst. “It was really naughty of you, Robin, and you are old enough to know better. But I think I can leave that part of it to Miss Stone.”
“You can, indeed,” Robin assured her. “Her remarks left nothing to the imagination.”
“I suppose I would have been distressed, but nothing seems to matter much now,” said her mother. “For school is over for you, I’m afraid, dearest. You can never go back to Calton Hall.”
“Mother! Say it again!”