They were children
of nine and eleven and quite sufficient for themselves, apart from
the fact that they regarded Robin as a baby and, therefore, took
no notice of her. They began playing with skipping ropes, which
left their nurse free to engage in delighted conversation with
Andrews.
It was conversation so delightful that Robin was forgotten, even
to the extent of being allowed to follow her sparrows round a
clump of shrubbery and, therefore, out of Andrews' sight, though
she was only a few yards away. The sparrows this morning were
quarrelsome and suddenly engaged in a fight, pecking each other
furiously, beating their wings and uttering shrill, protesting
chipperings. Robin did not quite understand what they were doing
and stood watching them with spellbound interest.
It was while she watched them that she heard footsteps on the
gravel walk which stopped near her and made her look up to see who
was at her side. A big boy in Highland kilts and bonnet and sporan
was standing by her, and she found herself staring into a pair of
handsome deep blue eyes, blue like the waters of a hillside tarn.
They were wide, glowing, friendly eyes and none like them had ever
looked into hers before. He seemed to her to be a very big boy
indeed, and in fact, he was unusually tall and broad for his age,
but he was only eight years old and a simple enough child pagan.
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