“I can go! Aren’t you going?”
“I don’t believe so. Tavia is so fond of swimming, and I am sure she would not dare go in the water so soon after her fever. So I guess I’ll stay home to keep her company.”
“Oh, you silly!” exclaimed Cologne. “Why should you stay out on her account?” and, possibly there was a note of jealousy in the girl’s tone, and a hint of it in her manner. “I’m very sure she wouldn’t do as much for you.”
“Indeed she would, Cologne,” Dorothy hurried to say. “You have no idea how kind Tavia can be and has been to me. Why, when I was sick home in Dalton, she stayed with me night and day.”
“Well, I can’t see why you shouldn’t go in bathing when you get a chance. Precious seldom the chance comes at Glenwood.”
“I suppose Mrs. Pangborn has hired the beach,” ventured Dorothy.
“Yes, worse luck. Afraid any one would see our orphan asylum bathing suits.”
“Indeed, I think those brown suits very pretty,” objected Dorothy. “I thought so when I saw them taken out this spring. Of course I have never worn one.”
“Of course you haven’t,” agreed Cologne. “That’s why you like ’em, but you should try to swim dog fashion in one of those knickerbockers. The skirts are built for hoops, but they seemed to run short of goods on the bloomers.”
“But it is awfully good of Mrs. Pangborn to provide for bathing when we will soon be at our own summer quarters for it.”