Soon the boys stood outside the door listening to Tavia patiently trying to say the very nicest things!
At Ned’s suggestion, that a little practice on Tavia’s part, in saying nice things, should by no means be interrupted, they rushed to the drawing room, and Dorothy played the piano while the boys sang. Dorothy finally jumped up, with her fingers in her ears, and declared she was becoming deaf, so Nat immediately sat down on the piano stool, and the singing continued.
Aunt Winnie looked in for a moment and begged the bass to try to sing tenor! And even the very boyish major closed his door to shut out the hideous sounds. But nothing disturbed Tavia, who was bent on making up to little Tommy.
CHAPTER XX
A THICKENED PLOT
“This is becoming a habit,” said Dorothy to Tavia, as they climbed the steps of the Fifth Avenue ’bus, homeward bound after a few morning hours spent in the shopping district, the day after the skating party.
“Everybody seems to have the habit too,” commented Tavia. “We can shop steadily for two hours, and still not purchase anything. That’s what I find so fascinating!”
“To me the charm of shopping lies in being able to buy anything that inspires one at the moment, and then calmly return it the next day. In that way, we can really possess for a few hours almost anything we set our hearts on,” said Dorothy gleefully.
“Like returning the brass horses and finger bowls!” said Tavia.
“Not to mention the rows of books and boxes of handkerchiefs,” Dorothy opened a box of chocolates as she spoke, and the candy occupied their attention for several minutes.
The ’bus stopped for a man who had hastily crossed the street in front of it. He climbed the steps and sat directly opposite the girls from the country. Tavia was busy with her thoughts and did not see him. Dorothy, however, noticed him, but said nothing to Tavia, because, for one frightened moment, she remembered him as the stranger who had so closely watched Tavia on the lake the morning before. To divert attention she began to talk rapidly.