"Keep a secret? Dorothy darling, Dare-me!"
"Now, no joking, Tavia," insisted Dorothy, "this is a matter of importance."
"Oh, I just love importance. That was what mostly happened to me and
Alice to-day in the squire's office—importance!"
"Well, if you really can't be serious—
"Oh, but, Doro dear, just try me. I shall weep if you say so, only—pardon, mamselle, but do not, if you please, make that weep too long, a few sniffs only, for I have not with me in this fleshling costume ze 'kerchief," and she made a most ridiculous little French "squat," further evidence of the Rochester play.
"I am afraid Tavia, that trip to your Aunt Mary's has affected your head; they say nothing can do so more effectively than certain kinds of plays."
"Well, the one I saw was the certain kind. Why, last night mother nearly had nervous prostration because I was practicing up in my room. I was trying to do a fall—and I did it all right."
"How foolish you are, Tavia," said Dorothy slightly frowning, "I would not think of such nonsense if I were you."
"Yes, it was awfully foolish, for it knocked the ceiling down in the kitchen, just dusting Johnnie's pompadour. The escape, however, made mother happy, so that the ceiling did not count."
Dorothy "gave in." She had to laugh and did laugh so heartily she was obliged to sit down on the grass to enjoy the "tragedy" as Tavia described the stage fall and the "ceiling drop."