The electric lights were flashed on, and the train soon dived into the great tunnel, “like a rabbit into his burrow,” Tavia said. They had to disembark at Grove Street to change for an uptown train. The tall young Westerner did likewise, but he did not accost them.
The Sixth Avenue train soon whisked the girls to their destination, and they got out at Twenty-third Street. As they climbed the steps to the street level, Tavia suddenly uttered a surprised cry.
“Look, will you, Doro?” she said. “Right ahead!”
“G. K.!” exclaimed her friend, for there was the young man mounting the stairs, lugging his two heavy suitcases.
“Suppose he goes to the very same hotel?” giggled Tavia.
“Well—maybe that will be nice,” Dorothy said composedly. “He looks nice enough for us to get acquainted with him—in some perfectly proper way, of course.”
“Whew, Doro!” breathed Tavia, her eyes opening wide again. “You’re coming on, my dear.”
“I am speaking sensibly. If he is a nice young man and perfectly respectable, why shouldn’t he find some means of meeting us—if he wants to—and we are all at the same hotel?”
“But——”
“I don’t believe in flirting,” said Dorothy Dale, calmly, yet with a twinkle in her eyes. “But I certainly would not fly in the face of Providence—as Miss Higley, our old teacher at Glenwood, would say—and refuse to meet G. K. He looks like a really nice young man.”