Somehow Tavia’s nonsense had a ring of reality to-day. Perhaps it was the narrow escape at the bridge that had tinted her pictures with such a serious tone—she seemed preoccupied, and gave her chatter in words contradicted by her voice and manner. It was some minutes before any one spoke. All appeared to be enjoying the “valedictory,” and presently Tavia, promising to “turn over a new leaf,” made a grab for a branch of a tree the auto just then passed under, and swished the foliage she captured until every leaf showed its silvery under-side against the deep blue sky. She laughed at her joke.
“Of course you know,” said Ned, as he swung the car into a cross-road that led to Glenwood, “mother expects you to come to North Birchland, with Dorothy, this summer, Tavia. We’ll try to make you comfortable—ahem! Nat has a brand new tandem, besides white duck duds to burn—”
“Nixy! To wear,” corrected his brother. “Mother says white ducks are economical for man—and beast.”
“Of course you’ll come with me, Tavia,” said Dorothy, noting instantly that her chum had not responded to the kind invitation that Nat had delivered for his mother.
“Perhaps,” replied Tavia, vaguely.
“Are you going to spend all your time at Dalton?” continued Dorothy, much puzzled at Tavia’s manner.
“Oh, no indeed,” answered Tavia, promptly this time, showing plainly, that she had other plans than those connected with her home town.
“I hope you’ll come,” said Nat aside, in pardonable earnestness, for his good times, with the “little bronze beauty” of Dalton, were cherished among his very best memories. Tavia was certainly a jolly girl, and Nat liked her—why should he not—like her?
“Oh, I’ll be sure to see you,” Tavia answered Nat.
Sure to see him? Yes, but she little dreamed then how very glad she would be to see him—and what serious happenings were to take place before that meeting.