“I knew you would come,” responded Dorothy with evident delight. “Just slip on your sweater, and your Tam O’Shanter, for we won’t come back until it is actually tea time.”
Passing through the corridor they encountered Edna and Tavia. Both begged to be taken along, but Dorothy stoutly refused, and she carried Miette off bodily, hiding behind trees along the forks in the path to deceive the girls as to the route she was taking. Once outside of the gates Dorothy and Miette were safe, the girls would not follow them now although Edna and Tavia had threatened to do so—in fun of course.
Dorothy wanted to begin at once with her dreaded task—that of unravelling the mystery. Miette was continually exclaiming over new found wood beauties, and was perfectly delighted with the antics of the red and gray squirrels. The pleasures had certainly restored her long-lost good humor.
“And you never have any such beauties in France?” began Dorothy, lightly.
“Nothing like this,” answered Miette, seizing a huge bunch of sumac berries.
“And would you like to go back?” asked Dorothy.
“It is very nice here,” replied her companion, “but I do not at all like New York.”
“Then you are not homesick at Glenwood?”
“Homesick?” she repeated in a shocked voice. “How could I be?”