“The wood?” giggled Tavia.
“The luck, you silly,” retorted Dorothy, adding with a significant glance at Tavia’s head under the saucy small hat: “And I wouldn’t have to look very far for the wood at that!”
“You can be cruel when you wish, Doro. Though no one would guess it to look at you.”
The train started on time and they found to their further joy that it was possible even at this last moment to engage berths in the Pullman.
They found themselves comfortably settled, their baggage stowed away, and the train on its way in a miraculously short time.
“Thank goodness we managed to avoid saying a fond farewell to your friend Stanley Blake and his companion.”
“My friend, indeed!” Dorothy retorted indignantly. “I’d like to know how you get that way, Tavia Travers!”
“Such terrible slang,” murmured Tavia incorrigibly.
“Who was it, I would like to know, who encouraged those two, anyway—I mean at first?”
“Well, you ought to be grateful to me,” returned Tavia, opening her big eyes. “If I hadn’t encouraged them, as you call it, we might never have found out their deep dark secret. Then where would your precious Garry be, I’d like to know?”