Robin put out her hand prettily.
"Shake mine," suggested Harrowby, and she obeyed him.
"And mine?" smiled Vesey, with his best allure. She gave him
her hand, and, as a result of the allure probably, a tiny smile
flickered about the corners of her mouth. He did not look wicked.
"I remain an outcast," remarked Coombe, as the door closed behind
the little figure.
"I detest an ill-mannered child," said Feather. "She ought to be
slapped. We used to be slapped if we were rude."
"She said Andrews would pinch her. Is pinching the customary
discipline?"
"It ought to be. She deserves it." Feather was quite out of temper.
"But Andrews is too good to her. She is a perfect creature and
conducts herself like a clock. There has never been the slightest
trouble in the Nursery. You see how the child looks--though her
face ISN'T quite as round as it was." She laughed disagreeably
and shrugged her white undressed shoulders. "I think it's a little
horrid, myself--a child of that age fretting herself thin about
a boy."
CHAPTER XII
But though she had made no protest on being taken out of the
drawing-room, Robin had known that what Andrews' soft-sounding
whisper had promised would take place when she reached the Nursery.
She was too young to feel more than terror which had no defense
whatever. She had no more defense against Andrews than she had
had against the man who had robbed her of Donal.
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