“And now,” said Nat, as late that night the little party gathered in the dining room for a final “feed,” together, “when we get to Cadet Hall and I start in to write business letters (with a sly wink at Tavia) I hope they will be answered promptly by every one who is honored by receiving one. I remember last year, momsey, you kept me waiting two whole days for a little check—and you know a thing like that puts a fellow out dreadfully.”
“But, my dear,” replied the mother, “you should manage your allowance better. This year I will positively not advance a single dollar to either of you.”
“Send checks ma, do,” put in Ned. “We ain’t fussy about the currency.”
“Now, we must not stay up too late,” added Mrs. White. “I wish we had been able to let the Urania matter wait for a few days—it seems I have quite an institution to clear out all at once, but since the Deerfield school opens to-morrow, I think it will be best for her to be there on time. I hope she will get along.”
“So do I,” spoke up Dorothy, with a promptness that signified anxiety as to the question. “Urania is a queer girl, and has had her own way always. It will be very different now, especially as Deerfield School makes a specialty of taking in—odd girls.”
“She’s odd all right,” chimed in Ned, “and not so bad looking either. I quite took to her in those new togs.”
“Yes,” answered Mrs. White smiling, “she did look well in that little blue dress of Dorothy’s. Let us hope she will become the clothes as they become her.”
With more small talk interrupted finally with a decided “Go to bed,” from Mrs. White, the dining room was empty at last, and the prospective scholars soon sleeping the sleep that blesses a well-filled day.
A rainy day dawned on the morrow—rainy and dreary as any day in early fall could be.
Tavia and Dorothy saw the outlook from their window and added to the misery such groans and moans as girls preparing for a long journey might be pardoned for making under the circumstances.