“You might rub a touch of powder over the complexion,” suggested Tavia. “I always did after I was all made up. Dear me!” she sighed, “it makes me think of ‘better days.’”
“Better?” queried Dorothy, recalling all the trouble Tavia had experienced when “made up” for her brief stage career.
“Well, perhaps not,” answered Tavia, “but different, at least.”
“Now, stay right here,” said Dorothy to Urania, “while I go and fetch Miette. I hope she is all ready. It did take so long to get you done.”
“But she certainly is ‘done to a turn,’” remarked Tavia, walking around the new girl in evident admiration. “I’d just like to call Ned—wouldn’t she enjoy this?”
“But you must not,” objected Dorothy, as she started off for Miette. “If you make any uproar we will all have to stay at Glenwood.”
Dorothy found Miette all ready—waiting for the carriage that was to take them to the depot.
Dorothy hurried to the office to say good-bye to Mrs. Pangborn, and after receiving more warnings, directions, and advice, she soon “collected Miette and Urania,” and was seated with them in the depot wagon, that rumbled at the usual “pace” of all boarding-school wagons over the hills of Glenwood, down the steep turn that led to the little stone station, and at last reached the ticket office just as the ten o’clock train whistled at the Mountain Junction.