"I simply thought I should die," began Alice, anxious to start conversation. "When I saw you step out of that wagon last night. Viola and I were just down to the post-office and when the crowd gathered of course, we had to see what was going on. Well, when I saw Tavia—"
A burst of laughter stopped Alice. She had a way of seeing humor in things and of enjoying the process of extracting it. Tavia joined her in the merriment, but Viola sat there with a curled lip. Dorothy was not laughing either—she was observing the stranger.
"Wasn't it great!" exclaimed Tavia. "I wish you could have been along. Dorothy was scared to death, but the very idea of any one being afraid while surrounded by four strapping policemen!"
"And when your cousin came into the post-office to send his telegram—to his mother, wasn't it? And we beheld—a dude in overalls and jumper!" and Alice laughed again. "Really," she continued, finally, "I thought I should pass away!"
"Was that your cousin?" asked Viola unpleasantly.
"Why, Ola," exclaimed Alice, the ring of something like anger in her voice, "I certainly told you the young man was Mr. Nat White from North Birchland, Dorothy's cousin."
"Oh," sniffed the other. "I am sure I thought you said he was Tavia's cousin."
"That's good," chimed in Tavia. "Wish he was; he would make all kinds of nice cousins, for he is the dandiest boy—"
"So!" almost sneered Viola.
"Yes, that's so," declared Tavia, with a challenging look at the stranger.