“Say, Doro,” said Tavia between yawns, “I got your picture back to-day.”
“You did!”
“Yep, it came by mail, and was in the envelope of the Gleaner. I’ve got that to clear up, and I like it better than Jake’s little fuzzy dog.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE RESCUE
“Tavia, get up! It’s seven o’clock, and I must go up to the stables!”
So Dorothy called the next morning, but whether Tavia was too much awake to do anything so “foolish” as to get up, and interview Jake, or whether she was still sleeping, Dorothy took no further time to inquire, for if she did so her own time would go with the effort. Instead, she dressed hastily, and, slipping a coat on, for the morning was heavy with dew, she quietly went up the gravel path toward the stable. There was a wind and a turn in the road, and from this spot, where big white stone marked “danger” for auto or carriage, the public road opened in a short, sharp “V.”
On either side was heavy shrubbery, the pride of the gardener, and the pleasure of the girls who loved late or early blossoms, for the hedge was composed of such shrubs as sent forth both.
The soft, lavender, feather-blossom was plentiful now, and as Dorothy passed along she stopped to gather a spray. As she did so she heard something like a whine.
She listened! It could not be a cat. There was Jake waiting at the stable door. What should she say to him? She did not hurry off, for that cry certainly came from the bush.