She regarded me reproachfully.
“It isn't often I ask you to put yourself out for me. The last time was when I asked you to be the baby's godfather. And a pretty godfather you've been. I bet you anything you don't remember the name.”
“I do,” said I.
“What's it then?”
“It's—it's——” I snapped my fingers. The brat's name had for the moment gone out of my distracted head. She broke into a laugh and ran her arm through mine.
“Dorcas.”
“Yes, of course—Dorcas. I was going to say so.”
“Then you were going to say wrong, for it's Dorothy. Now you must come—for the sake of penance.”
“I'll do anything you please!” I cried in desperation, “so long as you'll not talk to me of my own affairs and will let me sit as glum as ever I choose.”
Then for the first time she manifested some interest in my mood. She put her head to one side and scanned my face narrowly.