"But the secret?" demanded Tavia, making sure her skirt would not be stained, before taking her place on the grass beside Dorothy.
"Yes, I do want to tell you," answered Dorothy, "Now listen. You know Squire Sanders was particularly anxious that you should stand all the blame for Sarah's accident."
"Particularly anxious? He was dead set on it. Polite language doesn't fit the case."
"Tavia, you really are too slangy. It may be all right just for fun, in talking to girls, but some day you will be sorry. It will become a habit."
"Like Jake Schmid taking the pledge. I saw him yesterday very close to—a saloon!"
"Poor Jake!" said Dorothy with a sigh. "But he does seem to try—"
"To take the pledge? Indeed he does and I admire his perseverance.
That's just the way I try to avoid slang."
"I am afraid, Tavia, we will not accomplish much in the way of confidences, if you persist in being—ridiculous," and Dorothy made as if to continue on her way home.
"Sit right down there, Dorothy Dale," insisted Tavia, pulling her friend's skirt, and bringing Dorothy down beside her rather suddenly. "I will have to play the villain and demand that 'secret'!"
"Well, it is simply this: I think I see the motive Squire Sanders had in trying to disgrace you."