The Velvet Room Read Online Free PDF Page A

a moment. They made their way very slowly around the pens and up the slope of the nearest foothill. Robin led Betty, who tugged eagerly at her collar. When they reached a spot where the grass had not been grazed off, Bridget told Robin how to drive the stake and attach the chain. On the way back, Robin noticed how slowly Bridget moved and how heavily she leaned upon her cane.
    “Do you stake Betty out often?” Robin asked.
    “As often as I’m able. The grass is good for her, and hay is expensive. Mr. McCurdy sends me some hay now and then, but it’s not always enough.”
    It had occurred to Robin that the situation had useful possibilities. “It only takes a minute for me to get here from the Village,” she said. “Could I come every morning and stake Betty out for you? I’d like to.”
    Under Bridget’s steady gaze Robin dropped her eyes. But she really did want to help Bridget, she told herself. It wasn’t just because of needing an excuse to come often to the stone house. Bridget smiled gently. “That’s a very kind thought, my dear,” she said. “But are you sure you’ll be permitted? Your parents may not want you to be coming here so often.”
    Robin nodded with assurance, “Oh, I’m sure they won’t mind,” she said.
    They were just entering the neat little back yard when Robin was startled by a whirring noise, and a spark of feathered lightning went right past her face. She blinked her eyes and opened them in time to see an incredibly tiny bird alight on Bridget’s outstretched finger. It was a hummingbird. Thimble-small, but confident as a blue jay, it sat on Bridget’s finger and cocked its iridescent head.
    “A hummingbird,” Robin breathed. “It’s tame! Is it yours? I wish I had one.” There was a fierceness in her voice that surprised them both.
    “I see we have interests in common,” Bridget said gently. “But a hummingbird isn’t supposed to be owned or given. I’m sure you understand that. I appreciate how you feel about him, though, because I feel the same way. So much beauty and perfection in such a tiny thing. Perhaps you’d like to feed him.”
    Following Bridget’s instructions, Robin found a small bottle of a reddish liquid on a shelf just inside the cottage door. She held the bottle while the hummingbird drank from it. Hanging suspended in a tiny storm of wings, it dipped its stem-thin bill again and again into the sweet-smelling liquid. Watching it, Robin almost forgot to breathe. Finally it flew away to the apricot tree.

    Robin was standing staring after it when Bridget’s voice broke the enchantment. “It’s almost noon, my dear. Perhaps you’d best go home soon. Won’t your mother be worried about you?”
    “Oh, not much, They’re used to my disappearing.” Robin meant to sound careless and gay, but a guilty quaver crept in without warning. In answer to Bridget’s questioning look, she went on, “I’m always getting scolded for ‘wandering off.’ That’s what they call it.”
    “Why do you do it?” Bridget asked.
    Robin had been asked that question many times, and she always answered, “I don’t know,” quickly and stubbornly. But there was no anger or even disapproval in Bridget’s question. She sounded intrigued, as if “wandering off” was an interesting and original thing to do. It surprised Robin into really trying to answer, “I don’t…don’t…I’m not sure,” she stammered. “Everything seems to be so mixed up and strange sometimes, and I just have to get away.”
    “I think I know just the feeling,” Bridget said. “But be that as it may, you’d better run along home now before they get too worried. Don’t you think so?”
    “I guess so,” Robin said. “It’s been awfully nice meeting you. And Betty and Damon and Pythias and everybody.”
    “It’s been nice meeting you too, my dear,” Bridget said. “And I hope you’ll drop by the next time you ‘wander off’ in this direction.”
    It wasn’t until Robin was