“I really thought you meant the young brakeman on the train when we came over from New York,” sighed Tavia, affectedly. “Wasn’t he lovely?”
“You can’t fool me, Tavia,” declared her friend, laughing. “I don’t believe you even remember the color of that railroad man’s eyes.”
“Blue—to match his uniform,” said Tavia, smartly.
“Who ever heard of a Navy blue eye?” demanded Dorothy.
“Sure! wait till you get struck in the eye once; I was. And for a week before it turned yellow and green, it was the most be-you-ti-ful—Navy—blue——”
CHAPTER XVII
TAVIA TAKES A HAND
It was a few days later that the War Cry arrived in the mail, for Dorothy. The young girl knew that the paper was widely circulated, and likewise that it was circulated among people who might know Tom Moran. Men of his trade, traveling about the country, often drop into Salvation Army meetings for very loneliness, if nothing more.
“Oh, I just hope he’ll see it, and learn about how Celia wants him.” said Dorothy, clasping her hands. “The poor little thing——”
“What do you s’pose Miss Olaine would say if she saw this notice?” interposed Tavia, after reading the blue-penciled paragraph.