"Tom," I said softly, "are you awake?"
"Yes," said Tom, all in a minute, as if he had been awake some time.
It was all clear in my head now—about our losing our way and finding Miss Goldy-hair and the letter to Pierson, and Miss Goldy-hair, promising to invite us to go and see her, and everything.
"Tom," I said, "we can't go to Pierson now. I gave her leave to tell."
"Who?" said Tom, "Pierson?"
"No," I replied. "Of course not. What would be the sense of writing a secret to Pierson if she was to tell it?"
"I didn't know you wrote a secret to Pierson," said Tom; "I can't understand."
He spoke very meekly, but I felt provoked with him. I felt anxious and fidgety, even though I was so pleased about having found Miss Goldy-hair; and I thought Tom didn't seem to care enough.
"How stupid you are, Tom," I said. "You knew I had written to Pierson to tell her I was going to take you and Racey to her."
"I didn't know it until I heard you tell her," said Tom. "I don't think we could go to Pierson's, Audrey. We might get lost again."