Molly Richards had her arms around Dorothy. “Miss Cheerfulness!” she said. “When the skies are gray and the birds do not sing, Doro Dale will always be exuding sunshine—eh?”
“And we’ll all miss you—oh! so much, Doro!” cried Nita Brent.
“We’ll miss each other,” admitted Dorothy. “But let us hope, even if we do say good-bye to Glenwood and the old crowd, that we’ll all meet again some time.”
Tavia had been strumming on the banjo strings lightly, not having packed that joy-giving instrument. She broke out suddenly into the old school chant—and they joined her, softly:
“Good night! good night! good night! good night!
Good night, again; God bless you!
And oh, until we meet again,
Good night! good night! God bless you!”
The echoes of their sweet young voices died away. They kissed each other warmly and in silence. Then the others stole out of the old room that Dorothy and Tavia had occupied so long, leaving the two chums to the silence of the June night and their own thoughts.
THE END.