"Harvests!" cried Cologne in delight. "I never knew they were here."
"Neither did I until I found them," replied Tavia foolishly.
"The climb gave you lovely red cheeks; Tavia," said Dorothy. "You ought to take climbing in the next school course."
"No sarcasm now, please, Doro. I don't feel a bit funny."
"But you look it," declared Dorothy, keeping up her teasing manner. "You always look funny when your cheeks get so red—"
"Danger of ignition, I suppose," and Tavia's voice was anything but pleasant. "Oh, there go the Lamberts!" as an auto swished around the road. "I must run away and see them some day—just before we go home, when Cologne won't have time, or heart, to scold."
"You wouldn't!" spoke Cologne. "Mother particularly warned me that we were not to take up with those theatrical folks, and mother is the boss."
"Oh, very well, if you really feel that way about it," and Tavia shrugged her shoulders.
Dorothy was shaking a limb of the apple tree. "What ghost have you seen Tavia?" she asked. "Someone has stolen away all your good nature."
"He's welcome," she replied. "Stagnant good nature doesn't keep well, and I have been keeping mine bottled up ever since you shot that window brush. The shock to my system—" and she imitated the manner of one affected with nerves.