“That will be my job,” said her mother, with firmness.
“Certainly, if you get there first!” rejoined Robin politely. They laughed at each other, and Mrs. Hurst gave a great sigh of happiness.
“Oh, if you knew what a difference it makes to have you!” she said. “Everything looked black to me, and I was sure I could not manage to make both ends meet. And I’m not sure now: we are certain to have a hard struggle, with plenty of anxiety and care, but nothing seems to matter so much now.”
“I don’t see how anything can matter much, if we are together,” said Robin, simply. “We’re both strong—at least you will be after you have had a good rest—and you’re nearly as young as I am—”
“Robin, what nonsense!”
“Indeed, you are—you know Father married you and ran away with you when you hardly had your hair up! and you’ll grow younger every year, because we’re going to make a joke of everything, and there will be no one to be cross with you any more. At least, I shall be very cross with you if you try to do foolish things like milking cows—but you’ll soon learn that it isn’t safe! And everything will be tremendous fun, even if we have to live on turnips and buttermilk. I think we’re the luckiest people that ever owned a farm!”
“I think I am a very lucky mother,” Mrs. Hurst said, quietly.
“Indeed, Miss Stone wouldn’t tell you so. Mother, darling, I’ve come home with a horribly bad character—Miss Stone thinks I’m absolutely no good in the world. I was always getting into scrapes and sinking lower and lower in the form. I didn’t mean to be so hopeless; but I seemed to get into rows without any effort on my part, and at last I just didn’t care. I’m awfully sorry now, ’cause of you. But it really isn’t a school that makes you proud of it, and no one trusts Miss Stone. I’m just glad all over that I need never see her again!”
“Do the girls trust you?” Mrs. Hurst asked.
Robin’s head went up, and she coloured hotly.