Now Rob was to take this room for her auditorium, and she had assumed the task of preparing it. After all there was not much to be done; when it came to the point neither Rob nor her mother could bear to make more than absolutely necessary changes. The tall book-cases still stood there with their contents, the books which Sylvester Grey had most used; dignified scientific books in one, the well-worn Thackeray and a few other novels and a few shabby looking poets in its mate. They would not be in the way of seats for forty-five children; Rob was sure that her little hearers could easily squeeze into the chairs in which, judging by her first experience, they would not stay. She knew that they would crowd around her knees, and hang upon her arms, drinking in the story as if it were a syrup which might flow past them if they were not close enough to catch it at its source. "There isn't much to be done, Mardy," said Rob looking up to her mother from her knees as she straightened a file of magazines in the bottom part of one of the cases. Mrs. Grey aroused herself by an effort from the thoughts into which she had fallen. "I was thinking how much had been done, Rob, and how much was done with forever," said her mother. "It is all right, Mardy," said Rob quickly. "I feel more and more sure that it is all right. Much as we miss him it was so beautiful to slip away in the moment of assured triumph that we would not have it otherwise, would we?" "No, dear; very likely we wouldn't if we had time to remember to be unselfish if the chance came to get him back--but, oh Rob 'son Rob,' the first impulse would not be unselfish!" Mrs. Grey's voice quavered over her words, though she bravely smiled. Rob scrambled to her feet, and went over to put her arm around her mother. "I can't help remembering how the first money I earned story-telling went to introduce the bricquette machine to the world, and now, thanks to the machine, I am going to be able to tell stories for a charity," said Rob "let us call this room yours and mine, Mardy, as it used to be Patergrey's and mine, and let us creep away from the others sometimes, and come here for little cosey talks. I feel more like little Rob here than anywhere else. This room makes me forget my eighteen years and five feet six."