Billy waved to the crestfallen two and Henrietta gave them a gracious, forgiving bow.
"Never again," said she, "shall I do wrong. The possibilities of discovery are too nerve-racking."
"Father used to say—" began the Watermelon.
"I'll bet your mother didn't talk much," laughed Bartlett.
But the general had passed through an unhappy half hour and had no heart for jesting.
"If you knew the Browns, Mr. Batchelor," said he, "it was your duty to have told us so."
"Yes," said Henrietta. "I have aged ten years, and at my time of life that is tragedy."
"And why," asked Billy, "if you had the key, didn't we go in by the front door last night?"
The Watermelon stared from one accusing face to the other in frank surprise. Even Mike with his fat wits would have grasped the situation. "I didn't know them," he protested. "When I can go in by a door, I don't choose the window."
"But the key," objected Billy.