Robin Redbreast

At Number 9 Market Square Place-that was the name of the short row of houses I have described-some six months or so before the date at which I think this story may really be said to begin, there had been an arrival one evening. It was late October: the days were drawing in; it was almost dark when the fly from the two-miles-off railway station-I should have explained that there was no station at Thetford; the inhabitants had petitioned against the railway coming near them, and now their children had to suffer the inconvenience of this shortsightedness as best they might-drew up at Miss Mildmay's door, and out of it stepped four people-three children, and a young man scarcely more than a boy.