Dolly was sitting on the edge of her little white bed. At Dotty's reiteration of her query, Dolly threw her head down on the pillow and hid her face.
"Do you?" repeated Dotty, her voice now tinged with fear.
Dolly sat upright and looked at her. "Don't ask me, Dotty," she said,
"I can't tell you."
"Can't tell me," cried Dotty, in bewilderment, "then who on earth COULD you tell, I'd like to know!"
"I could tell mother! Oh, Dotty, I want to go home!"
"Well, you can't go home, not till day after to-morrow, anyway. What's the matter with you, Dolly, why can't you tell me what you know? How can I find the thing, and clear you from suspicion if you have secrets from me?"
"You can't, Dotty. Don't try."
Dolly spoke in a tense, strained way, as if trying to preserve her calm. She sat down at their little dressing-table and began to brush her hair.
A tap came at the door, and in a moment, Bernice came in.
"Let me come in and talk to you girls," she begged. "Alicia is in a temper, and won't say anything except to snap out something quarrelsome. What are we going to do?"