“I didn’t intend to,” returned Dorothy with assumed ingenuousness. “I thought perhaps one, Tavia Travers, would like to go with me.”
“Good gracious, I was only scared to death for fear you wouldn’t ask me,” Tavia confessed. “When do we start, Doro?”
“Hold your horses a minute, will you?” cried Nat. “You two girls aren’t going on a journey like that all alone—not by a long shot!”
“O-ho! The cave man speaks!” gibed Tavia. “Who says we are not, Mr. Smarty?”
“You really ought to stay here, Nat,” Dorothy interposed swiftly. “We need both you and Ned here on the spot, both to take care of Dad and follow up any new clue that may turn up.”
“Well, I like that!” exclaimed Nat, chagrined. “That’s being relegated to the rocking chair for fair.”
“But you will do that for me, won’t you, Nat?” begged Dorothy. “Can’t you see it’s the best way?”
“Well, no, I can’t say that I can,” confessed Nat. “But if you want it that way, Dot, I can but oblige.”
“What are you going to do after you reach Chicago?” Mrs. White asked. “Have you thought of that?”
“I suppose we shall have to leave our future conduct to chance,” said Tavia flippantly, and Dorothy slowly nodded acquiescence.