“He ran out and tried to frighten us,” she told Tavia. “At first we were very much afraid. But Dorothy called to him—she seemed to know him—”
“Oh, Dorothy knows most every poor person around here,” interrupted Tavia. “I shouldn’t like to have to keep up her charity list.”
“Indeed she is a very kind girl,” Miette hastened to add. “I should call her a wonderful girl.”
“Sometimes she is,” admitted Tavia, “but once she gets on your track you might as well give up, she is a born detective. I don’t mean that against her,” Tavia said quickly, noting the look that came into Miette’s face, and realizing that the French girl was not accustomed to her sort of jokes. “But one time I had a secret—or I thought I had one. But when Dorothy Dale scented it I was a goner—she had me ‘dead to rights’ before I knew whether it was my secret or hers.”
This brought a smile to Miette’s eyes and lips, and she tossed her head back defiantly.
“Well she is welcome to all my secrets,” she said suddenly. “I think it is very nice to have some one willing to share them.”
This remark surprised Tavia, but she did not look at Miette to question the sincerity of her words.
“I hope we have something hot for tea,” said Tavia, as they entered the hall. “I am starved for a good hot feed of indigestible buns or biscuits,—or even muffins would answer.”
“I am thankful if I have hot chocolate,” replied Miette, lightly.
“Hot chocolate,” repeated Tavia, “what an incorrigible you are on that drink! I suppose that is why you have such lovely red cheeks.”