"Isn't there any clue?" asked Ned.
"Yes, father is working on one, and I am so anxious to hear the result," said Dorothy. "Of course he will not write about it. I expect there will be lots of news when we get back to Dalton."
Tavia had been silent for some time. The boys had failed to "wake up her jokes," as they expressed it.
"Look here," said Ned tipping her chair back in a perilous way. "You can't claim to be sleepy for your eyes are just like stars. Nor need you pretend to be weeping inwardly for the coil of taffy we all forgot to bring back from Mikes' (if anything happens to that hair I'll have his license revoked), so now own up, what are you moping about?"
Dorothy was at Tavia's side instantly.
"You are tired, dear," she said. "Perhaps you are weak from shock.
Let's go in."
"Indeed I'm all right—" stammered Tavia, but a hot tear fell on
Dorothy's hand, and told a different story.
"Homesick!" whispered Ned as he kissed Dorothy good night. "She'll be all right to-morrow."