“It was not the least bit of trouble,” and Tavia uttered a false note that caused the young man to turn and observe her.
“Anything I can do?” he asked, politely. “Have you lost anything?”
Both girls answered in the same words.
“Oh, no; thank you.”
He glanced over at Dorothy, then resumed his paper. Miss Faval found her place in her book, and Tavia turned to her chum.
“Didn’t I tell you? Am I not a prophet? But I spoiled it, and I am dying laughing from head to foot.”
“She will think you rude,” cautioned Dorothy.
“I hope she thinks me the entire conjugation, and the worse ones on the last page. I can see some fun with her at Glen.”
“Please, Tavia,” begged Dorothy, “don’t try to get into trouble before we arrive there. You have plenty of time during the term,” and she looked bored—quite unlike the real Dorothy.
“Say, Doro,” exclaimed Tavia, “I actually believe you want to get rid of me. I’ll run off and leave you to your dismals. I know Dick and Ned have a brand of chocolates I am particularly fond of, and your own Cologne always tips the porter for ice water. So be good, and,” she added in a whisper, “don’t miss any of the circus,” nodding her head toward the other side of the aisle. “Be sure to render me a satisfactory and full report.”