In spite of her protests, Edna was sure to do exactly as Tavia asked her to, and she did peek through the dingy window of the post-office.
“Clear coast,” she announced, and, lest anything should obstruct the coast, Tavia instantly darted in. The Glenwood box was private, of course, and Tavia did not have the key. The old post-master looked at her keenly before he handed her one letter for herself, and two for Dorothy.
Neither of Dorothy’s was from home, and as Tavia saw this she gave a skip of relief. It may be noticed that when a school girl is happy she gives a little skip—that was Tavia’s way.
“What was so important?” demanded Edna. “I hope you got it, Tavia.”
“I did. This is an invitation, I am sure,” and she opened her mail. “No, it’s a bill. Well, it will have to wait a day or two.”
“Tell me, what did you expect?” asked Edna. “Dragging me off this way, and then keeping all the news to yourself,” and she pouted prettily.
“Hush! There’s Jake. Let’s wait till he is past. I’m afraid of him. Aren’t you?”
“A little,” admitted Edna. “But see. He is coming right for us.”
“Say there,” Jake called, almost forgetting he was addressing two Glenwood young ladies. “Wait a minute! I have something to say to you.”
Tavia wanted to run, and so did Edna, but there was no escape.