“And I can’t get in shape. Well, I wish I had taken them out to Wakefield’s. He would have had them done days ago. But if we are going to Sanders’s, better get started. I’ll call William to put the cutter up.”
“Here come Ted and Mabel now. They’re sleighing, too,” exclaimed Dorothy. “Won’t we have a jolly party!”
“That’s a neat little cutter,” remarked Ned, glancing out of the window. “And Mabel does look pretty in a red—what do you call that Scotch cap?”
“Tam o’Shanter,” Dorothy helped out. “Yes, it is very becoming. But Neddie, dear?” and her voice questioned.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied indifferently. “Mabel was always kind of—witchy. I like that type.”
“And Ted is—so considerate,” Dorothy added with a mock sigh. “I do wonder how Bob and Tavia are getting along?”
“Probably planning suicide by this time—I say planning, you know, not executing. It would be so nice for a boy as good as Bob to be coerced into some wild prank by the wily Tavia.”
“She did not happen, however, to lead you into any,” retorted Dorothy, “and I take it you are a ‘good boy’.”
“Oh, but how hard she tried,” and he feigned regret. “Tavia would have taught me to feed out of her hand, had I not been—so well brought up.”
This bantering occupied the moments between the time Ted’s sleigh glided into view, and its arrival at the door of the Cedars.