“Why, that is very interesting,” said Mrs. Pangborn, after Dorothy had finished. “I must tell Miss Olaine about the child.”
CHAPTER XIX
ANOTHER REASON FOR FINDING TOM MORAN
Dorothy had freshened up little Celia’s garments as well as she could while the child slept. She was handier with the needle than Tavia, although the latter had greatly improved in domestic science since those early days when she first began to take pattern of Dorothy, back in Dalton.
“Those shoes aren’t fit for the child to wear,” grumbled Tavia, who was helping to dress Celia when the warning bell for supper rang.
“Come on! Hurry up!” commanded Dorothy. “We’re late now. Haven’t you got her shoes on yet?”
“Yes, ma’am! all but one,” responded Tavia.
“‘All but one!’ How many feet has the poor child got?” cried Dorothy. “You talk as though she were a centipede.”
“She wriggles as though she had a hundred legs,” panted Tavia. “Do be still, dearie—for a minute.”
“Celia’s full of wriggles,” declared Dorothy. “Now come. Aren’t you hungry, dear?”