“I don’t think you ought to feel any such thing,” said Robin, much concerned, although it was impossible not to laugh at the cheerful sufferer. “See, there’s a little bell on your table, Mrs. Lane: do ring if you want anything. I shall be just round the corner.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Thin my turnips; they’re crowding each other out of the ground.”
“Dear me!” said Mrs. Lane, looking at her respectfully. “You and your mother are people of many activities. I wish you would sit down and be restful for a few minutes: I know I saw you pass my window at five o’clock this morning.”
“Very likely,” Robin said, smiling. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, though.”
“No: I was awake. Do sit down: I know I’ll need something in about two minutes—I don’t remember yet what it is, but it will come to me! So it would be a pity if you went. That’s right; now I can feel more restful myself. Tell me, why do you and your mother live in this big place alone? I know I’m very inquisitive, but I was born so.”
“Well, we must live somewhere,” Robin laughed. “And Uncle Donald left the place to Mother. He was an old widower, and he hadn’t anyone else to leave it to—that’s why we got it.”
“And did he live here alone?”
“Yes, but for a housekeeper. He bought the place very cheaply: of course, he didn’t use it all, but it was so cheap he didn’t mind that. Uncle Donald never could resist a bargain. He used to buy things at sales, just because they were cheap; the house is full of queer old things he picked up.” Robin grinned. “I was the worst bargain he ever made!”
“Did he get you cheaply?”