"Well, I think it is perfectly dreadful for a girl to go and grow straight up-without any warning."

"What an old lady I must be," and Tavia looked very severe and dignified.

"But, Doro dear, you need not worry. You surely believe I would never do anything I really thought wrong."

"That's just it. You would not think it wrong, but suppose you did something that turned out to be wrong?"

Tavia made no answer but the "old lady" look came back into her face-that serious expression so new to her. She seemed to be looking far ahead-far away-at some uncertain, remote possibility.

For several minutes neither girl spoke. They could hear the "miscreants"

who had been out after hours creeping past their door. Every one in Glenwood should be asleep. The last hall light had just been turned out-but the girls from Dalton were still thinking.

Dorothy, usually the one to mend matters, to-night seemed sullen and resolute. Plainly Tavia was hiding something from her, and while Dorothy could bear with any amount of mistakes or impulsive little wrongdoings, she could not put up with a deliberate slight-a premeditated act of deception.

Tavia saw that she was bound to hold out-to insist upon a "clearing up,"

and, as this did not suit her, for reasons best known to herself, she attempted to pet Dorothy back to her usual forgiving mood.

But the storm that had been so long brewing was in no hurry to blow over, and Dorothy went to bed with swollen eyes and an aching head, while Tavia only pretended to sleep-she had an important letter to write-an answer to the one that had come in on the evening mail, and required to be replied to by return of post. This meant that the missive must be penned that night and dropped in the post-office the very first thing in the morning.

"Dear little Dorothy," Tavia murmured as she looked down on the fair face, to make sure that the eyes were resting in sleep, "I will never do anything to disgrace _you_. Only have a little patience and you will understand it all. But I must-must-" and then she broke off with a long, long sigh.

CHAPTER X LEAVING GLENWOOD

But one more day remained of the school term at Glenwood. All the tests had been concluded, and, as there were to be no formal exercises the "last day" was given over entirely to packing up, and making ready for the departure from the inst.i.tution.

Dorothy and Tavia were busy with the others. To Dorothy the prospect of seeing her dear ones so soon, filled every thought of this day's work.

Tavia, too, seemed more like her old self and "jollied the girls" as she flung things into her trunk with her usual disregard for order.

"They'll all have to come out again," she replied to Dorothy's remonstrance, "so what's the use of being particular how they go in?"

"But your pretty Christmas bag," begged Dorothy. "Do be careful not to crush that."

"Oh, indeed there's nothing to crush. I took the ribbons out of it for the neck and sleeves of my white lawn, and when I extracted them from the flowered stuff there was nothing left but a perfectly flat piece of cretonne, with a row of little bra.s.s rings on one side. I just ran a bit of faded ribbon through the rings-and just wait until I show you."

At this Tavia plunged her hands down into the depths of her trunk and presently brought up the article in question.

"There!" she exclaimed, clapping the bag on her head. "Isn't that a pretty sunbonnet?"

Dorothy beheld it in amazement.

"It certainly does look sweet on you," she said, "but what in the world will you want a fancy sunbonnet for? Surely you will not use it in Dalton-and in Buffalo-"

"I think it would make a tremendous. .h.i.t in Buffalo," declared Tavia, wheeling around to show off the effect of her thick brown hair beneath the little row of bra.s.s rings that held the ribbon which bound the bit of flowered stuff to her neck. At the front her face seemed to fit exactly, and surely nothing could be more becoming than that Christmas bag.

"Oh, I think it's a shame," faltered Dorothy, "to spoil that beautiful bag to make a plaything."

"But we all have to have 'playthings,'" said Tavia, with a strong accent on the word "play." Then, with one more swing around, like a figure in a show case, Tavia took off the sunbonnet and went on with her packing.

"It seems so queer," Dorothy remarked, sliding her tennis racquet down the side of her trunk, "that we should be going in different directions.

We have always been able to help each other in the packing before."

"Well, I'd just like to leave half my old truck behind," replied Tavia, "and I don't know but what I will have to if this trunk won't stretch a little. It's chock full now, and just look at the commotion on the floor."

"I told you," insisted Dorothy, "that you would have to put the things in differently. Now you will have to take them all out again and roll them up tight. You can get twice as much in that way."

"Take them all out!" Tavia almost shrieked. "Never!" And, following this exclamation the girl jumped into the trunk and proceeded to dance the "trunk traveler's jig" on the unfortunate collection of baggage.

"Tavia! Don't!" begged Dorothy. "I'm sure I heard something break."

"Oh, that was my last summer's hat breaking up its plans for this year. I put it in the bottom in hopes that it would meet an untimely end, but I really did not intend to murder it," she joked, stepping out of the trunk.

"But at any rate," she went on, as she flung part of the "commotion" off the floor into the hollow she had succeeded in making for the various articles, "the poor old thing will take up less room dead than alive, and there will be no possible danger of my having to wear it for a turn or two when I get home. Nothing like getting in one's supplies while you're fresh-before the folks have a chance to get too friendly with you. I've found that out."

"But it was a real pretty hat."

"Well, even pretty hats are not immune from accidents, and you saw yourself that it was an accident-pure and simple."

A half hour later all the trunks had been packed, and the two Dalton girls sat in their little room exchanging confidences and making all sorts of school-girl promises of writing often, and sending pretty cards, besides having photographs taken of which to make especially affectionate remembrances.

"I'll send you one just as soon as I get to Buffalo," Tavia declared, holding Dorothy very close, for the latter seemed much inclined to cry as the hour of parting drew near.

"But it will be so lonely in North Birchland without you," persisted Dorothy, with a sob. "I do wish you would give up that trip to Buffalo."

Tavia a.s.sured her chum that it would be impossible as she had promised Grace Barnum to go to her home to visit her.

Dorothy finally jumped up and made an effort to pull herself together.

She went over to the dresser and picked up a book.

"Is this yours?" she began, and then stopped suddenly. It was a gust of wind that had blown up the thin strip of muslin covering the top of the dresser and revealed the little red book. It had been concealed there and, as Dorothy took it up she saw on the cover:

HOW TO ACT _The Beginner's Guide._

Tavia was at the other end of the room and did not at once see the book in Dorothy's hand.

"Did you-do you-want-this?" Dorothy stammered, again holding the volume out toward Tavia.

A deep flush instantly came over Tavia's face. Dorothy was watching her with a look-a look at once pleading and full of sadness.

Tavia put out her hand for the book.

"Oh, that funny little leaflet," she tried to say as if it were a joke.

"I suppose I might just as well take it, but it's full of the worst sort of nonsense. Let me show you-"

"Oh, no; don't bother," replied Dorothy, rather stiffly. "But that seems a queer sort of a book to take home from boarding school. Hadn't you better destroy it, as you say it is all nonsense?"

The red covers of the pamphlet fluttered in Tavia's hand. The flush on her cheeks threatened to match the hue of the book and told its own guilty story.