Their sparkling looks, Donald's tone of accusation and injured innocence, Dorothy's playful, rather defiant, air of triumph, said the rest. Uncle George, who was present at the interview, having previously heard both sides of the story from the D's separately, was much amused. In fact, he laughed aloud in quite an undignified manner, and so did they.
The next day brought news of Dr. Lane, their old tutor, who had been living for several months in South Carolina. He was better—indeed quite well again, and having lately accepted the position of principal of the boys' academy at F——, about ten miles from Nestletown, he proposed taking up his abode there immediately.
"Oh, Don," said Dorry, as she folded the letter; "I've an idea!"
"I cannot believe it," exclaimed Don, in well-feigned surprise.
"Yes, but I have," she insisted. "Dr. Lane will be at F—— by Friday. Let us ride over on Dood and Yankee and give him a welcome!"
"Agreed!"
Friday came, full of sunshine, and in a fresh, breezy way, as if to say, "Now for the ride!"—at least, so it seemed to Dorry.
Lydia, who was shaking rugs over the wide piazza railing, was pleased to salute Sailor Jack as he led the ponies, saddled and ready, to the door. Fine ponies they were, too, large of their kind, glossy black, with flowing tail and mane. Uncle George had given them to the D's, on the Fourth of July of the previous summer; and in honor of the day they had been named Yankee and Doodle. Yankee, being the more spirited, was given to Don, and Doodle, by no means a lamb, became the special pride and property of Dorry.
"Good-morrow to you, Mistress Blum!" said Jack, in a subdued though airy way, returning Lydia's nod. "Are the middies ready?"
"If you mean the twins, I presume they are, Mr. Jack. Have you looked carefully to Miss Dorothy's saddle?"