“I got it,” Dorothy heard her tell Ned. “Now if we can manage the rest.”
After that the two girls disappeared in the direction of the stables, where Jacob was busy with the bus and horses.
Dorothy felt very much like following them, for she knew, of old, Tavia’s proclivities for mischief, but the way Ned looked at her as they said: “We’ll be back directly, Dorothy,” debarred that attempt.
Perhaps an hour passed, and the girls did not return. Then Dorothy walked to the stable.
“Good afternoon, Jacob,” she said pleasantly, to the man who was polishing harness. “I thought some of the girls came up this way.”
“They did, miss, but it was them two that I can’t watch, so I told them I was busy in a way that meant they were not welcome,” replied Jacob. “Them two are always up to some mischief. Not but they’re jolly enough, and good company, but sometimes I’m afraid they’ll steal out after dark and hitch up a team. I believe they would!”
“Oh hardly that,” said Dorothy, laughing, “but I can’t imagine where they have gone, for I have been at the other path, and they could not have gotten out through the big gate.”
“Likely they would find a hole in the fence somewhere,” he said. “But that they are gone is all I care about. Would you like to see the little white dog? The one we picked up on the road? I call him Ravelings, for he is just like a spool of white silk unraveled.”
“Yes, I would like to see him,” Dorothy replied. “I suppose you are so careful of him you don’t let him run too far from your sight.”
“I don’t dare to, for he’s a valuable dog. I may get him in at the show in November,” and the man led the way to the corner that was fixed up for Ravelings.