Corson met them at the door.
“Been looking for you,” he said to Bates. “And, Miss Everett, your mother is inquiring where you are. She left word for you to go to her the moment you appeared.”
“Yes,” Dorcas returned, and then, shyly, “Please don’t say I was with Mr Bates, will you?”
Corson looked at her, with interest. Pretty Dorcas, her shy, brown eyes falling at the idea of asking for secrecy, but her judgment, already trained in diplomacy, telling her it was necessary.
“I won’t,” and Corson smiled at her, “if, you’ll answer a question or two. Where were you last night at two o’clock?”
“In bed and asleep,” said the girl simply.
“Thank goodness you don’t refuse to tell! And at what time did you retire?”
“About eleven.”
“And where had you spent the evening?”
“Oh, I say, Corson,” and Bates interrupted, “that’s in the class with your grilling of me. You know Miss Everett isn’t implicated, you know you’re asking her that because you’ve got the habit. Run along, Dorcas, you don’t have to be quizzed any more.”