He was the cause--not
Donal, not Donal's Mother--but this man who was so bad that servants
were angry because he was somehow connected with the house.
"As to his badness," she heard Andrews answer, "there's some that
can't say enough against him. Badness is smart these days. He's
bad enough for the boy's mother to take him away from. It's what
he is in this house that does it. She won't have her boy playing
with a child like Robin."
Then--even as there flashed upon her bewilderment this strange
revelation of her own unfitness for association with boys whose
mothers took care of them--Jennings, the young footman, came to
the door.
"Is she awake, Miss Andrews?" he said, looking greatly edified by
Andrews' astonished countenance.
"What on earth--?" began Andrews.
"If she is," Jennings winked humorously, "she's to be dressed up
and taken down to the drawing-room to be shown off. I don't know
whether it's Coombe's idea or not. He's there."
Robin's eyes flew wide open. She forgot to keep them shut. She
was to go downstairs! Who wanted her--who?
Andrews had quite gasped.
"Here's a new break out!" she exclaimed. "I never heard such a
thing in my life. She's been in bed over two hours. I'd like to
know--"
She paused here because her glance at the bed met the dark liquidity
of eyes wide open. She got up and walked across the room.
"You are awake!" she said.
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