urdy ambitions, Beryl had never put
such a question to herself. She had simply never seen them in her
picture. She evaded a direct answer now.

"They'd want me to!"

"Of course they would. Mothers and fathers are like that. Just
unselfish. But you wouldn't give your mother up for anything. I know you
wouldn't."

Beryl turned away from Robin's searching eyes. In her innermost
heart--an honest heart it was--she was not quite sure; her life had been
different from Robin's, she had been taught to want fine things and go
straight for them; so had Dale. If getting them meant sacrificing
sentiment--well, she'd do it. So, perhaps, would Dale (and Robin thought
Dale perfect). But she couldn't make Robin understand because Robin had
never wanted anything big--Beryl always fell back upon this comforting
thought.

"Well, you'd better get Harkness in line and don't get so interested in
your kids that you forget Mrs. Granger. She _is_ coming--they
telephoned that the road is open."

Robin dropped an impulsive kiss on the top of Beryl's head to show her
that, no matter how much they disagreed, they were good friends, and
went off in search of Harkness.

The appointed hour for the reception found the Manor and its servants
ready. With myriad lights, gleaming from candles and chandeliers,
reflecting in the polished surfaces of old wood and silver and bronze,
the air sweet with the scent of pine and flowers, the old Manor had
something of the brilliancy of other days. But, in sad contrast to the
old days, now poor Budge watched the extra help from the village with a
dour and suspicious eye and Harkness, dignified in his faded livery,
made the "extra" table in the conservatory as Christmasy as he could,
with a heart heavy with doubt as to the "fitness" of Missy's whims.

Robin, in her Madonna blue dress, looked very small in the stately
drawing room. There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the
hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as
Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts
on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were
flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in
glee.

True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs. Crosswaithe, from Sharon, arrived
first. Robin saw masses of velvet and plumes and a sharp, wizened face
somewhere in the midst of it all. She forgot Mr. Tubbs' careful
teaching, said "I'm pleased to know you," i