When she heard the car run into the garage again she leaped from her bed and hurried down-stairs. Her father and Rosalie were coming in together, laughing as unconcernedly as though bishops were every-day occurrences.
"Oh, Doris, father was so excited about the bishop he forgot me," giggled Rosalie.
"You said you were not coming home," said Doris indignantly.
"I changed my mind. I have a class at eight in the morning, and I was afraid I might not make it. So I just phoned father to call for me in the car, and he told me to wait until he got there, and I did, but he forgot me."
"The bishop came home with me, and—"
"Don't I know it?" interrupted Doris hotly.
"And I forgot Rosalie, and then when we got to bed I remembered. And the bishop was asleep so I slipped out, and—"
"Good night," said Doris curtly, and stalked up the stairs like an offended Lady Macbeth.
"Isn't she dramatic?" laughed Rosalie. "Would it shock the church if we put her on the stage?"