“Very saucy, I should say,” and Cologne laughed mischievously. “But I’ll try to be nice to him on your account.”
“And I hope I’ll not say anything to hurt Jack’s feelings,” spoke Dorothy, still keeping in with her friend’s humor.
“Couldn’t! He hasn’t any,” declared Rose-Mary. “He drives me frantic when I really want to make him mad.”
“But you do look lovely in that lavender gown,” insisted Dorothy, with unmistakable admiration. “I believe you have grown prettier—”
“Comparative degrees, eh?” and she made a queer little face. “Now, Doro dear, you must say I’ve grown positively handsome. I will never be content with the little, insignificant comparative degree in a suite of rooms like these. Aren’t they really scrumptious? You know dad couldn’t come, and he was so anxious that we would be comfortable, that the dear old darling just wired for good rooms, and that’s how we got these. They’re good, aren’t they?”
Dorothy looked out of the broad window, down at the big city stretched before her view. She could not help thinking of Tavia, although she thought it best not to speak of her to Rose-Mary—just yet at least. Cologne was busy hanging up the things she had pulled out of Dorothy’s bag.
“How long can you stay?” she asked, shaking out Dorothy’s light blue linen frock.
“Well, it was the queerest thing! Aunt Winnie got it into her head that I needed some of the girls, and she proposed a little trip for me, just as your letter came. It seemed providential.”
“Providential? That’s what I call dead lucky, girlie. You can’t expect a real proper providence to get mixed up in all our little scrapes. And, to be honest, I’m just dying for a real genuine scrape. The kind Tavia used to ‘hand out’ to us at Glenwood.”
Dorothy smiled but did not reply. Somehow the idea of Tavia still being kept busy “handing out scrapes” struck her as somewhat significant.