“Say,” he demanded, “what’s the matter?”
The girl, unwilling, halted. “Nothing,” she replied, “what makes you ask that?”
“Why,” explained Harvey, hiding his anger and attempting to take her hand, “you’re out of breath.”
“Been running,” was the girl’s laconic explanation.
“You don’t usually run home from the mill, Elsie,” Harvey’s detective instinct was showing itself.
Elsie was extremely irritated by this unwished for interview.
“Well, I—” she stammered, “I wanted to get here because it’s Monday and mother’s washing day and—” She paused, her irritation getting the better of her. “I don’t see what right you have to question me, Harvey Spencer.”
Grogan had got down from the wagon and at this moment came through the gate.
“Young man,” he began, addressing Spencer. The girl interrupted him.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Do you come from the mill?”