CHAPTER XIX.
Robin had spent the night at the cottage and Mrs.Bennett had been very good to her.

They had sat by the fire together for a long time and had talked of the dead boys on the battlefield, while Robin's head had rested against the old fairy woman's knee and the shrivelled hand had stroked and patted her tremulously.

It had been nearing dawn when the girl went to bed and at the last Mrs.Bennett had held on to her dress and asked her a pleading question.
"Isn't there anything you'd like me to do for you--anything on earth, Miss, dear?
Sometimes there's things an old woman can do that young ones can't.

If there was anything you'd like to tell me about--that I could keep private--?
It'd be as safe with me as if I was a dumb woman.

And it might just happen that--me being so old--I might be a help some way." She was giving her her chance, as in the course of her long life she had given it to other poor girls she loved less.