“Good!” The older woman patted her lightly on the shoulder. “Take your time about it. Do you think you can read my handwriting?”
“Nothing could be plainer, Mrs. Lawson.” Dorothy smiled back at her.
“Very well, then. I’ll see you at lunch. The dining room is across the hall from the library.”
At the door, she stopped and turned as though she had just remembered something.
“Don’t let what my husband said bother you, Janet.”
“That’s forgotten already,” Dorothy said easily.
“Like most men, he flies off the handle when irritated. Pay no attention to it.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Lawson hesitated for the fraction of a second. “By the way, Janet,” she remarked. “When was the last time you walked in your sleep—that you found your slippers pointed toward your bed in the morning?”
Dorothy pretended to think. “Let me see,” she said slowly. “Yes—it was the night before Daddy locked me in my room! I found that I couldn’t get out in the morning, and naturally, I wanted to know the reason why. I still do, for that matter. Except for some foolishness about my being ill, I’m still waiting for an explanation. As a matter of fact, I was perfectly well. I’m terribly annoyed, of course, and it worries me to think that Daddy should act this way, but so far as my health goes, I’ve never felt better.”