Chapter 12

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. They were both
big and powerful, and she was nothing. But, out of the wonders
she had begun to know, there had risen in her before almost inert
little being a certain stirring. For a brief period she had learned
happiness and love and woe, and, this evening, inchoate rebellion
against an enemy. Andrews led by the hand up the narrow, top-story
staircase something she had never led before. She was quite unaware
of this and, as she mounted each step, her temper mounted also,
and it was the temper of an incensed personal vanity abnormally
strong in this particular woman. When they were inside the Nursery
and the door was shut, she led Robin to the middle of the small
and gloomy room and released her hand.

"Now, my lady," she said. "I'm going to pay you out for disgracing
me before everybody in the drawing-room." She had taken the child
below stairs for a few minutes before bringing her up for the
night. She had stopped in the kitchen for something she wanted for
herself. She laid her belongings on a chest of drawers and turned
about.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget," she said.

What happened next turned the woman quite sick with the shock of
amazement. The child had, in the past, been a soft puppet. She
had been automatic obedience and gentleness. Privately Andrews
had somewhat looked down on her lack of spirit, though it had been
her own best asset. The outbreak downstairs had been an abnormality.

And now she stood before her with hands clenched, her little face
wild with defiant rage.

"I'll scream! I'll scream! I'll SCREAM!" she shrieked. Andrews
actually heard herself gulp; but she sprang up and forward.

"You'll SCREAM!" she could scarcely believe her own feelings--not
to mention the evidence of her ears, "YOU'LL scream!"

The next instant was more astonishing still. Robin threw herself on
her knees and scrambled like a cat. She was under the bed and in
the remotest corner against the wall. She was actually unreachable,
and she lay on her back kicking madly, hammering her heels against
the floor and uttering piercing shrieks. As something had seemed
to let itself go when she writhed under the bushes in the Gardens,
so did something let go now. In her overstrung little mind there
ruled for this moment the feeling that if she was