"I'm just going to ask," and opened the gate.
They went up the path, mounted three short flights of brick steps that cut the three little terraces, and found themselves at a deep porch half buried in roses. Apparently Miss Lasarge heard them coming, for she appeared on the threshold of the pretty sitting-room-hall.
"This is nice, dear children," she said in the eager sweet voice that was one of her attractions, "come into the dining-room--the cocoa is just ready."
That was the cottage. A good-sized sitting-room hall with windows looking two ways, and a cosy little dining-room. Three bedrooms above. There was also the kitchen, where reigned Lizzie Sprot, a sturdy west-country young woman, who had lived eleven years with Miss Anne--from the age of seventeen. Lizzie Sprot had gone to bed, she always went when she had taken in the cocoa, and left Miss Anne to sit up and write letters as a rule.
"Is Pam here?" asked Christobel, as they followed the slim, grey figure into the dining-room, yet even as she asked the question she felt instinctively it was a foolish one.
"Is who here, dear? Sit down now, both of you--that's right. Two cups from the corner cupboard, please, Crow--that is delightful. Now, what is it you were asking--something about Pam?"
Christobel asked again. Adrian said nothing, except to corroborate his sister's story.
"So you think you saw Pamela come down the Folly Ho turn, and go--towards home?"
Now Miss Lasarge said this, a mere repetition of what she had just been told, in rather an uncertain tone.
Adrian said afterwards, that anyone could see she thought it was objectionable, but did not like to say so.