“If I do not hear from father in the morning,” said Dorothy, turning the subject abruptly, “I am going to telegraph. I can’t rest thinking what may be happening. And little Joe in an office!”
“Am I not trouble enough for to-night?” asked Tavia. “Surely you can let the Investment company go, in the sight of my agony. But wasn’t Jake good, after all the dog business?”
“Yes, Jake is good, and I tell you he saved you a lot of trouble. Only to-day Mrs. Pangborn had new notices put up in the hall warning the girls not to leave the grounds after dark, as there are many strangers in the village. But I suppose you never took the trouble to notice them.”
“I know better than to do so. If I read the rules I’d be gray. They are purely ornamental to me.”
“And you won’t tell me where you went? This may come up, you know,” Dorothy cautioned, “and, like a lawyer, if you expect help from me, I have to understand the case.”
“I’ll tell you some day—not far off Doro,” replied the other, “but I don’t mind saying I never had a better hour’s fun in my life.”
“Glad you enjoyed yourself,” Dorothy retorted. “I had to write to the Dalton folks, and, of course, make my letter both yours and mine. I can’t bear them to think that you never remember them.”
“But I do! I am worried to death about answering their letters. Did you tell them to cease corresponding with me?”
“Not in so many words,” said Dorothy, “but I did say you were awfully busy trying to have a good time, getting into mischief. Well, if you want me to pour some more witch-hazel on that ankle I will do so. Then I would like to go to bed.”
“Pour away; only be careful not to have it go through the mattress. I hid a red box under it and the color might rub off.”