Read "Robin Redbreast" by Mary Louisa Molesworth online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
At Thetford the weeks till Easter -- it came in the middle of April that year -- passed quickly. It is true that every morning, when Frances scored out one of the long row of little lines she had made to represent the days till that of her mother's arrival, she could not repress a sigh at the number yet remaining. But still the time, even for her, passed quickly. For she was busy -- working more steadily at her lessons than ever before, in the hope of having satisfactory progress to show -- and full of the happiest anticipations. Morning and night the faithful, simple-hearted girl added to her other petitions the special one that things might be so over-ruled as to prevent the necessity of further separation.
'It can't be wrong to ask it,' she said to herself, 'for God made fathers and mothers and children to be together. It's something wrong somewhere when they can't be. And I've got a feeling that it _is_ going to be like that for us now. I don't care a bit where we live -- that place in the north or anywhere -- if only we're with them.'