The remark opened the way for questioning, but Dorothy was too discreet to avail herself of the opportunity. She said only:—
“Well, so long as you stay with me, Evelyn, you are to do precisely as you please. I believe in liberty for every one. You heard what Mammy said about me. Dear old Mammy has been trying to govern me ever since I was born, and never succeeding, simply because she never really wanted to succeed. Don’t you think people are the better for being left free to do as they please in all innocent ways?”
There was a fleeting expression as of pained memory on the girl’s face. She did not answer immediately, but sat gazing as any little child might, into Dorothy’s face. After a little, she said:—
“I don’t quite know. You see, I know so very little. I think I would like best to do whatever you please for me to do. Yes. That is what I would like best.”
“Would you like to go with me to my home, and live there with me till you find your friends?”
“I would like that, yes. But I think I haven’t any friends—I don’t know.”
“Well,” said Dorothy, “sometime you shall tell me about that—some day when you have come to love me and feel like telling me about yourself.”
“Thank you,” said the girl. “I think I love you already. But I mustn’t tell anything because of what they made me swear.”