“Look out—do, Tavia! You’ll be out of the window next.”
“No, I won’t. That isn’t the very next thing I’m going to do.”
“What is ‘next,’ then?”
“Going to hug you!” declared Tavia, and proceeded to put her threat into execution, smashing Dorothy’s hat down over her eyes, and otherwise adding to the general “mussed-up condition” resulting from the long journey from Glenwood to the town which was still Tavia’s home, and for which Dorothy would always have a soft spot in her heart.
“Oh, dear me!” gasped Tavia. “It is so delightsome, Doro Doodlebug, to have you really going home with me to stay at my house for two whole weeks. It is too good to be true!” and out of the window her head went again, thrust forth far to see the station the train was approaching. Dorothy made another frantic grab at her skirt.
“Do be careful! You’ll knock your silly head off on a telegraph pole.”
“No loss, according to the opinion of all my friends,” sighed Tavia. “Do you know the latest definition of ‘a friend’? It’s a person who stands up for you behind your back and sits down on you hard when you are in his company.”
The brakes began to grind and Tavia put on her hat and grabbed her hand baggage.
“Dear old Dalton,” whispered Dorothy, looking through the window with a mist in her eyes. “What good times we had here when we were just—just children!”
“Dead oodles of fun!” quoth Tavia. “Come on, Doro. You’ll get carried past the station and have to walk back from the water-tank.”