female.

That a Feather should become a parent gave rise to much wit of light
weight when Robin in the form of a bundle of lace was carried down
by her nurse to be exhibited in the gaudy crowded little drawing-room
in the slice of a house in the Mayfair street.

It was the Head of the House of Coombe who asked the first question
about her.

"What will you DO with her?" he inquired detachedly.

The frequently referred to "babe unborn" could not have presented
a gaze of purer innocence than did the lovely Feather. Her eyes of
larkspur blueness were clear of any thought or intention as spring
water is clear at its unclouded best.

Her ripple of a laugh was clear also--enchantingly clear.

"Do!" repeated. "What is it people 'do' with babies? I suppose
the nurse knows. I don't. I wouldn't touch her for the world. She
frightens me."

She floated a trifle nearer and bent to look at her.

"I shall call her Robin," she said. "Her name is really Roberta
as she couldn't be called Robert. People will turn round to look
at a girl when they hear her called Robin. Besides she has eyes
like a robin. I wish she'd open them and let you see."