“Of course you know I entirely forgot it, Doro,” and now Tavia showed some remorse at the reprimand.
“My! There’s the bell!” exclaimed Dorothy as a clang sounded down the corridor. “I had no idea it was so late,” and she jumped up to disrobe. “Quick, or Miss Higley will see our light.”
“Let her,” answered Tavia indifferently. “I don’t feel very well, and would just love something warm—say a nice little cup of tea—”
A tap at the door interrupted her remarks. Dorothy jumped into a large closet and Tavia calmly opened the portal.
It was Miss Higley, the second assistant teacher, with rather a forbidding expression on her wrinkled face, and who, among the girls, bore a reputation characterized as “sour.”
“Why is this?” she demanded, stepping in and brushing Tavia aside.
“I was just thinking of calling you,” answered Tavia, clapping her hand to her waist line. “I have such a dreadful—Oh, dear!” and she sat down without further explanation.
“Do you need anything?” asked Miss Higley, her tone more kindly.
“Oh, no; certainly not,” sighed Tavia. “I would not trouble you. But if I might have a sip of tea—that tea you brought Dorothy did her so much good the other night.”
She paused to allow a proper expression of agony to spread over her face, and gently rubbed her hand over the region covered by her belt.