“Cute little place they have,” remarked Tavia, as she played idly with her pony’s mane. “How happy they are and how comfortable, and how simple that sort of life is, Doro. Just think, no bother about money, no worry about what you are going to eat for the next meal—just go out and kill a chicken if you are hungry——”
“Not Ophelia!” said Dorothy.
“Not Ophelia, of course,” returned Tavia gravely. “That would never do. But, honestly, I think it must be fun to live that way.”
Dorothy gave her a curious glance.
“Yes, you do!” she gibed. “I can see you living in that atmosphere just about one week, Tavia Travers, before you’d die from boredom. Excitement is your meat, my dear. Without it, you must starve.”
“How well you have read my nature,” said Tavia, with a sigh. “However, there is apt to be excitement enough if you can believe Ma Petterby and Sue,” she added, with a giggle. “How about that man-eating panther they were telling about?”
“That may not be so much of a joke as you seem to think it,” retorted Dorothy, with a nervous glance over her shoulder. “I’ve heard Garry say that panthers are often seen in this part of the world.”
“Maybe; but I bet I’d never have the luck to see one,” retorted Tavia dubiously, and Dorothy added a fervent:
“I certainly hope not!”
They had gone some distance along the trail when Tavia announced that she was a little stiff from riding and would rest herself by walking and leading her pony a little way.