the shelter of Gray Manor. Indeed, it had all turned out
so surprisingly well that he could tuck it away, figuratively speaking,
in the steel box in his safe, marked "Forsyth." Only he did not want
to--he liked to think it all over.

Up to the time of finding Robin, girls were a species of the human race
of which the lawyer knew little. He supposed that they were all
alike--pretty, fun-loving, timid, giggly, prone to curl themselves like
kittens, impulsive, and pardonably vain. He knew absolutely nothing of
the fearless, honest, open-air girls, with hearts and souls as straight
and clean as their healthy young bodies or that there were legions like
little Robin and Beryl who, because they had been cheated of much that
went to the making of these others, stood as a type apart. He only
thought--as he went over the whole thing--that Robin's Jimmie was to
blame for her being "different," leaving her alone so much and letting
her take responsibilities way over her head; now she would enjoy the
girlish pleasures that were her due. His sister Effie had supplied her
with everything in the way of clothes and knick-knacks she could want;
Harkness would keep old Mrs. Budge in line, Tubbs would go light with
the school work--he had certainly made a point of _that_, and, when he
could run up to Wassumsic again, he'd look over this little companion
Robin had adopted. If she were not all that she ought to be (Miss Effie
had somewhat disturbed him on this point) why, a change could be made;
someone a little older and more cultured (Miss Effie's word) could be
sent up from New York.

Upon this train of pleasant contemplation, enjoyed at intervals in his
work, Robin's letter, written a few days after her dinner at Mrs.
Lynch's, fell like a bomb.

"DEAR GUARDIAN," she had begun,

I am ever so sorry I haven't written for so long, but I haven't
had a minute, really, truly. There are so many things to look at
and to do. I am beginning to really love Gray Manor--it is so
always and always beautiful. Mr. Harkness is a dear and is very
good and tells me what to do many times when I am stupid and do not
see for myself--like the finger-bowls. Jimmie and I never used
finger-bowls. I don't mind the school work, though I simply can't
keep up with Beryl. When you come up, I will tell you how wonderful
Beryl is and all about her family. Her mother had a lovely dinner
one night and Beryl took