“Good night, Dollyrinda,” said Dotty, heartily, in a voice loud enough to be heard down-stairs, if any one chanced to be listening. “I’m fearfully tired, so I’ll go right to bed.”
“Good night, Dotsie,” returned the other guileful one. “You must be tired, with the worry about Genie, and all. Good night.”
The door shut and there was silence as far as the Two D’s were concerned.
“What can it be?” thought Trudy, who had heard the high-pitched conversation. But she bided her time to find out.
The next day was a trial. Being Sunday, the whole family was much together. The Two D’s were at their wit’s end to preserve an apparent friendliness, without showing each other any real diminution of their desperate hatred of one another. Trudy eyed them, when she could do so unobserved, and concluded that they were “mad at” each other. “Silly little geese!” she thought, well remembering her own not so far past schooldays.
She determined to give them every chance.
“Going over to Treasure House?” she inquired, soon after dinner.
“Dunno. Do you want to go, Dot?” said Dolly, with studied carelessness.
“Oh, I don’t care, Dolly. Just as you like,” and Dotty’s politeness was faultless.
“Of course you do,” said Mr. Fayre, looking up from his paper. “What did I build that house for if you’re not to use it?”