The door opened softly behind them and Tavia poked her head in.
“My goodness gracious, Doro Doodlekins,” she cried, “you look as bright as a button. First thing you know I’ll be minus a patient.”
Dorothy propped herself up on her elbow and stared at her chum.
“Tavia, we must send a telegram immediately,” she cried. “The Major must know that Joe is safe.”
Tavia came over and smoothed her pillow fondly.
“Foolish child, did you think no one but you would think of that?” she chided. “Garry sent one of the boys to Dugonne with orders to send a night letter to The Cedars telling everything that happened. That was after you fainted, you know, and we brought you here.”
“Such a foolish thing to do,” sighed Dorothy, sinking back on her pillow. “What must Garry think of me?”
“Suppose I let him answer that for himself,” suggested the flyaway, and before Dorothy could protest she had seized Joe by the arm and escorted him gently from the room. A moment later Dorothy could hear Tavia calling to Garry that he was “needed very much upstairs.”
Dorothy closed her eyes and opened them the next minute to find Garry standing beside the bed, looking down at her. She reached out a hand to him and he took it very gently, kneeling down beside her.
“Joe and Tavia have been telling me how you stood up to those men in the cave, little girl. I only wish I had been there to see you do it. We’ve got them all, by the way, and Stiffbold and Lightly and the rest of them are where they won’t hatch any more schemes in a hurry—thanks to you.”