“I knew Bob would find her interesting,” said Nat, with some irony in his tone.
“And I knew she would finally like him,” said Dorothy, significantly.
“Bob has a way with girls,” went on Nat, “he always takes them slowly—it’s the surest way.”
“But don’t you think Tavia is very pretty? Everyone at school raves about her,” Dorothy declared with unstinted pride, for Tavia’s golden brown hair, and matchless complexion, were ever a source of pride to her chum.
“Of course she’s pretty,” Nat agreed. “Wasn’t it I who discovered her?”
Dorothy laughed, and gave a lock of her cousin’s own brown hair a twist. She, as well as all their mutual friends, knew that Nat and Tavia were the sort of chums who grow up together and cement their friendship with the test of time.
“Come to think of it,” she replied, “you always did like red-headed girls.”
“Now there’s Mabel,” he digressed, “Mabel has hair that seems a misfit—she has blue eyes and black hair. Isn’t that an error?”
“Indeed,” replied Dorothy, “that is considered one of the very best combinations. Rare beauty, in fact.”
“Well, I hope she is on time for the Christmas-tree affair out at Sanders’s, whatever shade her hair. I don’t see, Doro, why you insist on going away out there to put things on that tree. Why not ask the Sunday School people to trim it? We gave the tree.”