"'Oh,' says Robin, 'no, not in squares. But let's play it's hot ice-cream.' "'_Hot ice-cream_,' he says, real slow, his eyes getting wide. To play Little Boy King and have hot ice-cream was about as much as he could take care of, in joy. Sometimes I get to wondering how we ever do anything else except collect children together and give them nice little simple fairylands. But while, on the sly, we was all watching to see Christopher sink deep in the delight of that hot toothsome supper, he suddenly lays down his spoon and stares over to us with wide eyes, eyes that there wasn't no tears gathering in, though his little mouth was quivering. "'What is it--what, dear?' Robin asks, from her stool near his feet. "'My daddy,' says the little boy. 'I was thinking if he could have some this.' "Robin touched her cheek down on his arm. "'Blessed,' she says, 'think how glad he'd be to have you have some. He'd want you to eat it--wouldn't he?' "The child nodded and took up his spoon, but he sighed some. 'I wish't he'd hurry,' he says, and ate, obedient. "Robin looked up at us--I don't think a woman is ever so lovely as when she's sympathizing, and it don't make much difference what it's over, a sore finger or a sore heart, it's equally becoming. "'I know,' she says to us, 'I know just the _place_ where that hurts. I remember, when I was little, being in a house that a band passed, and because mother wasn't there, I ran inside and wouldn't listen. It's such a special kind of hurt....' "From the end of the settle that was some in the shadow, Insley set watching her, and he looked as if he was thinking just what I was thinking: that she was the kind that would most always know just the place things hurt. And I bet she'd know what to do--and a thousand kinds of things that she'd go and do it. "'O ...' Christopher says. 'I like this most next better than molasses candy, cutted in squares. I do, Robin!' He looked down at her, his spoon waiting. 'Is you that Robin Redbreast?' he inquired. "'I'm any Robin you want me to be,' she told him. 'To-morrow we'll play that, shall we?' "'Am I here to-morrow? Don't I have to walk to-morrow?' he ask' her. "'No, you won't have to walk to-morrow,' she told him. "Christopher leaned back, altogether nearer to luxury than I guess he'd ever been. "'I'm a little boy king, and it's hot ice-cream, and I love _you_,' he tops it off to Robin. "She smiled at him, leaning on his chair. "'Isn't it a miracle,' she says to us, 'the way we can call out--being liked? We don't do something, and people don't pay any attention and don't know the difference. Then some little thing happens, and there they are--liking us, doing a real thing.' "'I know it,' I says, fervent. 'Sometimes,' I says, 'it seems to me wonderful cosey to be alive! I'm glad I'm it.' "'So am I,' says Insley, and leaned forward. 'There's never been such a time to be alive,' he says. 'Mrs. Emmons, why don't we ask Miss Sidney for some plans for our plan?'