And that frank letter from Tom Moran delighted Tavia quite as much as did the mis-spelled one from Celia. Tom had stopped at the school when he had brought Celia away from Mrs. Hogan’s. And he had asked to see, and had been closeted in the office for an hour with, no other than Miss Rebecca Olaine!
“And I saw that ring on her finger when she went in,” Tavia had whispered to Dorothy, on that now long past occasion. “And it was still on her finger when she came out.”
But the interested schoolmates did not know for sure “that it was all fixed” until this day when Tom Moran’s letter had come to Dorothy.
Miss Olaine had never shown the chums any particular friendliness; that was not her way. But, as they were strolling up to Number Nineteen for a last “prinking” before the exercises in the chapel, the teacher passed them in the corridor.
“Come and have tea this afternoon in my room, young ladies,” she said, quite as though she were giving a command instead of an invitation.
“Of course we will, dear Miss Olaine,” cried Dorothy, brightly. “We will be delighted to.”
The grim teacher flushed. When she flushed her eyes twinkled and she looked happier than the girls had ever seen her look before.
“Do you really mean that, Dorothy Dale?” she asked, quickly.
“Mean what?” questioned Dorothy, in surprise.
“That you will take pleasure in drinking tea with me?”