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Red-Robin

Chapter 9 THE LYNCHS

Word Count: 2404    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

thers at the mills, was that it stood at the end of a dreary row and therefore ha

the hills and the narrow river shake off its workaday dress and go racing into the shadows of the woods. Poor Moira, years of heartbreaking work and worry had not

oom looked out directly upon the mudd

ra Lynch ran now, peering as f

ay," she said, wi

lock," Danny Lynch answered testily. "You're alw

's voice. She went to him, smoothed the spotless cush

oh, her laugh was a tragic thing, for while her lips

different, today," sh

retort of derision died

ive her one look to know th

hungry I was getting to set my eyes o

gave her an opportunity to impart

I've a new position." She was going to

our father and mother? And did the li

f telling of her ignomin

panion to Gordon Forsyth

h dropped a spoon

at new boy who's c

nto a chair, kissed her father lightly on his cheek, perched herself on the old sofa and proceeded to te

rl she is-a li

nks the little place she lived in in New York is lots nicer than Gray Manor. When you look at her you think she's a baby and then when she talks, why-she seems older than I am! But she's funny like you, Mom;

ellow-soul, "funny" like herself, Beryl described her; Beryl, for

to come down here wi

Dale would be home, hungry. Her mission in life, next to tending her big Danny, was feeding her two children. For tonight she had made Beryl's favorite dessert, a bread pudding, the eggs

of us," broke in big Danny upon their chat

lared. "Everything that I've gotten I've gotten for mys

was between the two, a soothing

be to her Dad and her Mommy." She declared it with an ardent triumph. This mother who had once dreamed things for herself dreamed them now for her boy and girl. Fr

written to her guardian to send down a real violin for her to practice upon, or what fun it was to study with Mr. Percival Tubbs, whose ears were

all wear this night, my girl. Didn't the good soul, God rest him,

ttlement. Miss Lewis had given her work so that she could earn money to feed her family; Miss Lewis had sent the chair to Danny; Miss Lewis had found cheaper lodgings and had helped her make them homelike. Another blessing had been Jacques Henri, the old Belgian who lived above them and whose violin had attracted Beryl as the magnet draws the iron. A lonely soul, he had found sweet company in the chi

d and eyes bright with the tears which were always close to them. Dur

y? Fried potatoes? Good! Hullo, Sis. How goes it, Pop?" His greeting embraced everything and every

tting all dolle

yl was disappointed. He said he had heard in the mills that the newcomer at the Manor was a girl, and lam

his eyes were brooding like Beryl's but his mouth was wide and tender

his precious ambitions and had taken the first job he could find, he ha

feet on you and you'll love it," he said with such sc

wait until we know the poor l

the "classes" and the "privileged few" and the unfairness of things in general, but she had paid little attention to it and could not, anyway, connect it with unassuming Robin. When he met Robin, he'd understand-and while Dale

th" each evening. Beryl had often wondered why Dale seemed to care so much about it; why he spent hours and hours drawing and figuring on bits of paper. Of course it amused the father, who, during the day, cut the spools into tiny whe

's interest

the delicate contrivance. "That's the way! While I'm racking my po

lay on the table. "If I had had the lea

the money to have the thing made in metal. Oh, well, what's the use of talking. The thing's got my goat, though. I'm thinking abou

no family. Moira's own quick thought of him when Dale had pointed him out on the road in front of the Mill store was that "he looked too white for a working man." But he seemed to have singled Dale out for his advances; Dale

, Miss Forsyth, down here the ne

an. And Dale shall b

fine beads, Sis," fin

a bit of the fruit cake with real butter sauce." Wasn't she goin

of the "dinner party," as Mrs. Moira grandly called it, out of respect to the pot roast and the

pretty and I haven't a thing that's nice," begged Be

d the Beggar-mai

t have her jewels

picture blazed in her heart of the moment when with her violin she would hold enthral

them and only wear them on

reluctance to part with her one "pretty" but because suddenly out of the silent past came the old father's words: "They are

y are!" she laughed, with a little catch in

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