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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Stop growling, you young cub, and be grateful; half a loaf is better than no bread," was Lavendar's comment as he watched the draggled and muddy but still charming Robinette up the stairway.
A little toy of a purse made of golden chainwork, hanging from her wrist, was searched for the driver's fare, and it had hardly snapped to again when the fly drew up before the entrance to the house. How interesting it looked! Robinette put her head out of the carriage window and gazed up at the long row of windows, the old weather-coloured stones, and the carved front of the building.
How did you guess I was homesick?" Robinette leaned her head against the housemaid's rough hand, always stained with black spots that would give way to no scrubbing. From morning to night she was in the coal scuttle or the grate or the saucer of black lead, for she did nothing but lay fires, light fires, feed fires, and tidy up after fires, for eight or nine months of the year.
"I believe you when you say that you did not influence Carnaby in the matter, though I strongly suspected you before." "Well, upon my word!" ejaculated Robinette when they had got out of the room, too completely baffled to be more original. "What does she mean? Has any one ever understood the workings of Aunt de Tracy's mind?" "Don't come to me for any more explanations!
Robinette was unspeakably lonely, even with her hundred friends, for there was enough English blood in her to make her cry out inwardly for kith and kin, for family ties, for all the dear familiar backgrounds of hearth and home.
Their husbands may work their fingers to the bone, and their parents be in the workhouse, but fine frocks they will have!" "Rather!" said the boot-and-knife boy, nursing his injured thumb. On the departure of Mrs. Benson from her room, Robinette gave a stifled shriek in which laughter and tears were equally mingled.
"Aunt de Tracy, there is something at Stoke Revel I am very anxious to have if you will give it to me," said Robinette, as she came into the library a few minutes later. Mrs. de Tracy looked up from her knitting solemnly. "If it belongs to me, I shall no doubt be willing, as I know you would not ask for anything out of the common; but I own little here; nearly all is Carnaby's."
I am now able to declare that to be a base calumny and to hope that all the others will prove just as false!" Then Robinette laughed too; eyes, lips, cheeks! When Lavendar looked at her he wished that his father would keep him at Stoke Revel for a month.
On they drove in silence, talking of trivial things, each fencing away from the subject that was on their minds and from mention of the unfortunate interview with Medaine Robinette. The miles faded slowly, at last to bring the camp into view. Ten minutes later, Houston leaped from the buggy and knocked at the door of the cottage.
I'm come to do some business at Stoke Revel," he added, for the old face had clouded over, and Mrs. Prettyman's whole expression changed to one of timid mistrust. "I really was sent by Mrs. de Tracy," he went on, turning to Robinette, "to take you home; Mrs. Loring, isn't it?" "Yes, I am Mrs. Loring," she said, frankly holding out her hand to him.
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