



Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









                             DOROTHY DALE'S
                              GREAT SECRET


                                   BY
                            MARGARET PENROSE

      AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY," "DOROTHY DALE AT
                         GLENWOOD SCHOOL," ETC.


                              ILLUSTRATED


                                NEW YORK
                         CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY




                        THE DOROTHY DALE SERIES
                          By Margaret Penrose

                          Cloth. Illustrated.

                     DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY
                    DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
                      DOROTHY DALE'S GREAT SECRET

                     (Other Volumes in preparation)


                   CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY    NEW YORK


                          Copyright, 1909, by
                         Cupples & Leon Company

                      Dorothy Dale's Great Secret




                                CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
  I. An Automobile Ride                                                1
  II. Tavia Has Plans                                                 17
  III. A Cup of Tea                                                   28
  IV. The Apparition                                                  39
  V. An Untimely Letter                                               47
  VI. On the Lawn                                                     55
  VII. At Sunset Lake                                                 63
  VIII. A Lively Afternoon                                            72
  IX. Dorothy and Tavia                                               79
  X. Leaving Glenwood                                                 88
  XI. A Jolly Home-Coming                                             96
  XII. Dorothy is Worried                                            109
  XIII. Little Urania                                                118
  XIV. The Runaway                                                   129
  XV. A Spell of the "Glumps"                                        139
  XVI. Dorothy in Buffalo                                            147
  XVII. At the Play                                                  161
  XVIII. Behind the Scenes                                           172
  XIX. The Clue                                                      183
  XX. Dorothy and the Manager                                        195
  XXI. Adrift in a Strange City                                      205
  XXII. In Dire Distress                                             211
  XXIII. The Secret--Conclusion                                      231




                      DOROTHY DALE'S GREAT SECRET




                               CHAPTER I
                           AN AUTOMOBILE RIDE


"There is one thing perfectly delightful about boarding schools,"
declared Tavia, "when the term closes we can go away, and leave it in
another world. Now, at Dalton, we would have to see the old schoolhouse
every time we went to Daly's for a pound of butter, a loaf of bread--and
oh, yes! I almost forgot! Mom said we could get some bologna. Whew! Don't
your mouth water, Dorothy? We always did get good bologna at Daly's!"

"Bologna!" echoed Dorothy. "As if the young ladies of Glenwood School
would disgrace their appetites with such vulgar fare!"

At this she snatched up an empty cracker box, almost devouring its
parifine paper, in hopes of finding a few more crumbs, although Tavia had
poured the last morsels of the wafers down her own throat the night
before this conversation took place. Yes, Tavia had even made a funnel of
the paper and "took" the powdered biscuits as doctors administer headache
remedies.

"All the same," went on Tavia, "I distinctly remember that you had a
longing for the skin of my sausage, along with the end piece, which you
always claimed for your own share."

"Oh, please stop!" besought Dorothy, "or I shall have to purloin my hash
from the table to-night and stuff it into--"

"The armlet of your new, brown kid gloves," finished Tavia. "They're the
very color of a nice, big, red-brown bologna, and I believe the
inspiration is a direct message. 'The Evolution of a Bologna Sausage,'
modern edition, bound in full kid. Mine for the other glove. Watch all
the hash within sight to-night, and we'll ask the girls to our
clam-bake."

"Dear old Dalton," went on Dorothy with a sigh. "After all there is no
place like home," and she dropped her blond head on her arms, in the
familiar pose Tavia described as "thinky."

"But home was never like this," declared the other, following up
Dorothy's sentiment with her usual interjection of slang. At the same
moment she made a dart for a tiny bottle of Dorothy's perfume, which was
almost emptied down the front of Tavia's blue dress, before the owner of
the treasure had time to interfere.

"Oh, that's mean!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Aunt Winnie sent me that by mail.
It was a special kind--"

"And you know my weakness for specials--real bargains! There!" and Tavia
caught Dorothy up in her arms. "I'll rub it all on your head. Tresses of
sunshine, perfumed with incense!"

"Please stop!" begged Dorothy. "My hair is all fixed!"

"Well, it's 'fixest' now. The superlative you know. I do hate your hair
prim. Never knew a girl with heavenly hair who did not want to make a
mattress of it. I have wonderfully enhanced the beauty of your coiffure,
mam'selle, for which I ask to be permitted one kiss!" and at this the two
girls became so entangled in each other's embrace that it would have been
hard to tell whom the blond head belonged to, or who might be the owner
of the bronze ringlets.

But Dorothy Dale was the blond, and Octavia Travers, "sported" the dark
tresses. "Sported" we say advisedly, for Tavia loved sport better than
she cared for her dinner, while Dorothy, an entirely different type of
girl, admired the things of this world that were good and beautiful, true
and reliable; but at the same time she was no prude, and so enjoyed her
friend's sports, whenever the mischief involved no serious consequences.

That "Doro" as her chums called Dorothy, and Tavia could be so unlike,
and yet be such friends, was a matter of surprise to all their
acquaintances. But those who have read of the young ladies in the
previous stories of the series, "Dorothy Dale;--A Girl of To-Day," and
"Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School," have had sufficient introduction to
these interesting characters to understand how natural it was for a lily
(our friend Dorothy) to love and encourage a frolicsome wild flower
(Tavia) to cling to the cultured stalk, to keep close to the saving
influence of the lily's heart--so close that no gardener would dare to
tear away that wild flower from the lily's clasp, without running the
risk of cruelly injuring the more tender plant.

So it was with these two girls. No one could have destroyed their love
and friendship for each other without so displacing their personalities
as to make the matter one of serious consequences.

Many other girls had coveted Dorothy's love; some had even tried to
obtain it by false stories, or greatly exaggerated accounts of Tavia's
frolics. But Dorothy loved Tavia, and believed in her, so all attempts to
destroy her faith were futile. And it was this faith, when the time came,
that inspired Dorothy Dale to keep the Great Secret.

Glenwood School was situated amid the mountains of New England, and the
two girls had completed one term there. On the afternoon when this story
opens they were lounging in their own particular room, nineteen by
number, waiting for the recreation bell to send its muffled chimes down
the corridor.

They were waiting with unusual impatience, for the "hour of freedom" to
come, for they expected visitors in an automobile.

"Like as not," Tavia broke in suddenly, without offering a single excuse
for the surprising interjection, "the Fire Bird will break down, and we
won't get our ride after all."

"Cheerful speculation," interposed Dorothy, "but not exactly probable.
The Fire Bird is an auto that never breaks down."

"What, never?" persisted Tavia, laughing.

"No, never," declared Dorothy. "Of course all automobiles are subject to
turns, but to really break down--Aunt Winnie would never allow her boys
to run a machine not entirely reliable."

"O-o-o-oh!" drawled Tavia, in mock surprise. Then the girls settled down
to wait.

The Fire Bird, was a touring car in which the girls had enjoyed some
noted rides about their home town of Dalton. Dorothy's aunt, Mrs.
Winthrop White, of North Birchland, owned the car, and her two sons,
Edward and Nathaniel (or Ned and Nat, to give them the titles they always
went by) good looking young fellows, were usually in charge of it when
their favorite cousin Dorothy, and her friend Tavia, were the other
passengers.

It may as well be stated at this time that Nat and Tavia were excellent
friends, and even on a ride that had been termed notorious (on account of
the strange experiences that befell the party while making a tour), Tavia
and Nat had managed to have a good time, and made the best of their
strange adventures.

It was not surprising then that on this afternoon, while Dorothy and
Tavia waited for another ride in the Fire Bird, their brains should be
busy with speculative thoughts. Tavia was sure Nat would think she had
grown to be a real young lady, and Dorothy was so anxious to see both her
cousins, that she fell to thinking they might have outgrown the jolly,
big-boy relationship, and would come to her stiff and stylish young men.

The peal of the recreation bell in the outer hall suddenly aroused the
girls, and, at the same moment the "honk-honk" of the Fire Bird's horn
announced the arrival of the long expected boys.

"There they are!" exclaimed Tavia, quite unnecessarily, for Dorothy was
already making her pearl-tinted veil secure over her yellow head; and
while Tavia was wasting her time, looking out of the window at the auto,
which was surrounded by boys and girls who stood on the path, plainly
admiring the two cousins and the stylish car, Dorothy was quite ready for
the ride.

"Do come, Tavia!" she called. "The afternoon is short enough!"

"Com--ing!" shouted her irrepressible companion in high glee, making a
lunge for her own veil, and tossing it over her head as she dashed down
the corridor.

Dorothy stopped at the office on her way out to tell the principal, Mrs.
Pangborn, that the expected visitors had arrived, and that she and Tavia
were starting for the ride, permission to go having been granted in
advance.

Outside, just beyond the arch in the broad driveway, the Fire Bird panted
and puffed, as if anxious to take flight again. Ned was at the steering
wheel and as for Nat, he was helping Tavia into the machine "with both
hands" some jealous onlookers declared afterward. However Dorothy's
friend Rose-Mary Markin (known to her chums as Cologne because of her
euphonious first names) insisted differently in the argument that
followed the puffing away of the car.

It was no small wonder that the coming of the Fire Bird should excite
such comment among the girls at Glenwood school. An automobile ride was
no common happening there, for while many of the parents of the young
ladies owned such machines, Glenwood was far away from home and so were
the autos.

Edna Black, called Ned Ebony, and regarded as Tavia's most intimate
friend, insisted that Tavia looked like a little brown sparrow, as she
flew off, with the streamers of her brown veil flying like wings. Molly
Richards, nick-named Dick, and always "agin' th' government" like the
foreigner in politics, declared that the girls "were not in it" with the
boys, for, as she expressed it, "girls always do look like animated
rag-bags in an automobile."

"Boys just put themselves on the seat and stay put," she announced, "but
girls--they seem to float above the car, and they give me the shivers!"

"All the same," interrupted Cologne, "the damsels manage to hang on."

"And Dorothy was a picture," ventured Nita Brant, the girl given to
"excessive expletive ejaculations," according to the records of the Nick
Association, the official club of the Juniors.

So the Fire Bird, with its gay little party, flew over the hills of
Glenwood. Dorothy was agreeably surprised to find her cousins just as
good natured and just as boy-like as they had been when she had last seen
them, and they, in turn, complimented her on her improved appearance.

"You look younger though you talk older," Ned assured Dorothy, with a
nice regard for the feminine feeling relative to age.

"And Tavia looks--looks--how?" stammered Nat, with a significant look at
his elder brother.

"Search me!" replied the other evasively, determined not to be trapped by
Nat into any "expert opinion."

"Beyond words!" finished Nat, with a glance of unstinted admiration at
his companion.

"Bad as that?" mocked Tavia. "The girls do call me'red head' and
'brick-top.' Yes, even 'carroty' is thrown at me when I do anything to
make Ned mad. You know that's the girl," she hurried to add, "the
girl--Edna Black--Ned Ebony for short, you know. She's the jolliest
crowd--"

"How many of her?" asked Ned, pretending to be ignorant of Tavia's school
vernacular.

"Legion," was the enthusiastic answer, which elastic comment settled the
question of Edna Black, for the time being, at least.

The roads through Glenwood wound up and down like thread on a spool.
Scarcely did the Fire Bird find itself on the top of a hill before it
went scooting down to the bottom. Then another would loom up and it had
to be done all over again.

This succession of steep grades, first tilting up and then down, kept Ned
busy throwing the clutches in and out, taking the hills on the low gear,
then slipping into full speed ahead as a little level place was reached,
and again throwing off the power and drifting down while the brakes
screeched and hummed as if in protest at being made to work so hard. The
two girls, meanwhile, were busy speculating on what would happen if an
"something" should give way, or if the powerful car should suddenly
refuse to obey the various levers, handles, pedals and the maze of things
of which Ned seemed to have perfect command.

"This reminds me of the Switch-back Railway," remarked Nat, as the
machine suddenly lurched first up, and then down a rocky "bump."

"Y-y-y-es!" agreed Ned, shouting to be heard above the pounding of the
muffler. "It's quite like a trip on the Scenic Railway--pretty pictures
and all."

"I hope it isn't dangerous," ventured Dorothy, who had too vivid a
remembrance of the narrow escape on a previous ride, to enjoy the
possibility of a second adventure.

"No danger at all," Ned hastened to assure her.

"A long hill at last!" exclaimed Nat, as the big strip of brown earth
uncoiled before them, like so many miles of ribbon dropped from the sky,
with a knot somewhere in the clouds. "A long hill for sure. None of your
dinky little two-for-a-cent kinds this time!"

"Oh!" gasped Dorothy, involuntarily catching at Ned's arm. "Be careful,
Ned!"

Ned took a firmer grip on the steering wheel, as he finished throwing out
the gear and shutting off the power, while the spark lever sent out a
shrill sound as he swung it in a segment over the rachet.

The hill was not only remarkably steep, but consisted of a series of
turns and twists. Down the grade the car plunged in spite of the brakes
that Ned jammed on, with all his force, to prevent a runaway. He was a
little pale, but calm, and with his steady hands on the wheel, clinging
firmly to it in spite of the way it jerked about, as if trying to get
free, he guided the Fire Bird down, the big machine swerving from right
to left, but ever following where the lad directed it.

As they swung around a turn in the descending road a clump of trees
obstructed the view for a moment. Then the car glided beyond them,
gathering speed every moment, in spite of the brakes.

"The creek!" yelled Tavia in sudden terror, pointing to where a small,
but deep stream flowed under the road. "There's the creek and the bridge
is broken!"

The water was spanned by a frail structure, generally out of order and in
a state of uncertain repair. It needed but a glance to show that it was
now in course of being mended, for there was a pile of material near it.
Work, however, had been temporarily suspended.

Then, there flashed into view a warning signboard announcing that the old
planking of the bridge had been taken up to allow the putting down of
new, and that the bridge was impassable. The four horror-stricken
occupants of the car saw this at a glance.

"Stop the car!" cried Tavia.

"Can't!" answered Ned hoarsely. "I've got the emergency brake on, but it
doesn't seem to hold."

"It's all right," called Nat. "I saw a wagon go over the bridge when we
were on our way to the school this afternoon."

"But it crossed on some loose, narrow planks!" Tavia gasped. "I saw them
put the boards there yesterday when we were out for our walk! I forgot
all about them! Oh! Stop the car! We can't cross on the planks! We'll all
be killed!"

Ned leaned forward, pulling with all his strength on the brake handle, as
if to force it a few more notches back and make the steel band grip
tighter the whirring wheels that were screeching out a shrill protest at
the friction.

"I--I can't do it!" he exclaimed almost in a whisper.

The Fire Bird was dashing along the steep incline. Ned clung firmly to
the steering wheel, for though there was terrible danger ahead, it was
also close at hand should the auto swerve from the path. His face was
white, and Nat's forced breathing sounded loud in the ears of the
terror-stricken girls.

The bridge was but a few hundred feet away. The auto skidded along as if
under power, though the gasolene was shut off.

"There's a plank across the entrance! Maybe that will stop us!" cried
Nat.

"Never in this world!" replied Ned, in despairing tones.

Dorothy was sending up wordless prayers, but she did not stir from her
seat, sitting bravely still, and not giving way to useless terror. Nor
did Tavia, once the first shock was over, for she saw how quiet Dorothy
was, and she too, sank back among the cushions, waiting for the crash she
felt would soon come.

"If some boards are only down!" murmured Ned. "Maybe I can steer--"

The next instant the Fire Bird had crashed through the obstruction plank.
It splintered it as if it were a clothes pole, and, a moment later,
rumbled out upon the frail, loose planking, laid length-wise across the
floorless bridge, as a path for the repair teams.

"Oh! Oh!" shrieked the two girls in one breath.

Nat jumped up from his seat, and, leaning forward, grasped his brother by
the shoulders.

Then what followed was always a mystery to the four who had an
involuntary part in it. The front wheels took the narrow planks, and
clung there as Ned held the steering circle steady. There was a little
bump as the rear wheels took the same small boards. There was a crashing,
splintering sound and then, before any of those in the car had a chance
to realize it, the Fire Bird had whizzed across the bridge and was
brought to a quick stop on the other side.

"Whew!" gasped Ned, as he tried to open the paralyzed hands that seemed
grown fast to the steering wheel.

"Look at that!" cried Nat, as he leaped from the car and pointed back
toward the bridge. "We broke two planks in the very middle, and only the
fast rate we clipped over them saved us from going down!"

"What an escape!" cried Tavia as she jumped from her seat.

"Is the car damaged?" asked Dorothy, as she too alighted to stand beside
her chum.

"Something happened to the radiator when we hit the rail and broke it,"
said Ned, as he saw water escaping from the honey-comb reservoir. "But I
guess it won't amount to much. It isn't leaking badly. The idea of the
county having a picture bridge over a river! Why there's a swift current
here, and it's mighty deep. Just look at that black whirlpool near the
eddy. If we'd gone down there what the machine left of us would have been
nicely cooled off at any rate!"

The two boys were soon busy examining the car, while Dorothy and Tavia
stood in the road.

"Wasn't it dreadful!" exclaimed Dorothy. "I do believe we ought not to go
auto riding--something happens every time we go out."

"And to think that I knew about the bridge!" whispered Tavia. "Only
yesterday I saw it and noticed how unsafe it was. Then I forgot all about
it. Oh, Dorothy! If anything had happened it would have been my fault!"




                               CHAPTER II
                            TAVIA HAS PLANS


Dorothy threw her arms about Tavia, and, for a few moments the two girls
were locked in each other's embrace. The reaction, following their lucky
escape from almost certain death, had unnerved them. Nor were the two
boys altogether free from a shaky feeling, as they carefully looked over
the car to see if it had suffered any further damage than the leaky
radiator.

"Think she'll do?" asked Nat.

"Guess so," replied his brother. "My, but that was as close a call as I
have ever had."

"Me too. I guess we'd better take a breathing spell before we go on."

The boys sat down on a grassy bank, and the girls followed their example.
They looked back over the bridge, and at the two broken planks that had
nearly proved their undoing. Through the spaces, where the flooring was
torn up, the black, swirling waters could be seen.

While the auto party are resting until they have somewhat gotten over the
fright caused by their narrow escape, let me tell something of Dorothy
and her friends. As set forth in the first book of this series, "Dorothy
Dale; A Girl of To-Day," the girl was the daughter of Major Frank Dale, a
veteran of the Civil War. He ran a weekly newspaper, called _The Bugle_
in Dalton, a small town in New York state. Dorothy's mother had died some
years previous. The girl had two brothers, younger than herself, named
Joe and Roger.

Dorothy took part in a temperance crusade in Dalton and had much to do in
unraveling the mystery of an unfortunate man given to drink. He left a
small fortune to his daughter, whose whereabouts were unknown, and
Dorothy succeeded in finding her. In her work the girl was much hampered
by a man named Anderson, who sought to do her bodily harm, and who was at
the bottom of the mystery concerning the daughter of the unfortunate man.

Dorothy proved herself a brave girl, and, with the help of Tavia, who
became her especial chum, did much to aid several persons in Dalton.

In the second volume, "Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School" there I related
how Dorothy and her father came upon better days. Major Dale fell heir to
quite a sum of money, and could give up the newspaper.

Dorothy was sent to Glenwood School, where Tavia accompanied her. The two
girls had many exciting times there, and Dorothy was suspected of
something for which she was not to blame, suffering much in consequence
of her desire to shield another girl. There was much fun at the school,
in spite of this, however including a queer walking match and a strange
initiation.

Dorothy and her father moved to North Birchland, the home of Mrs.
Winthrop White, Mr. Dale's sister. Anderson, the man who had caused
Dorothy so much trouble turned up again, but was eventually sent to jail.

After the holidays Dorothy and Tavia returned to school, where we find
them at the opening of this story. They had become friends of nearly all
the students, though, as is natural, had made some enemies, as what girl
does not?

Now the party on the roadside prepared to start off again.

"I can't forgive myself for not remembering about the dangerous state of
the bridge," went on Tavia, when Ned and Nat had announced that the auto
was fit to continue its journey.

"Of course it wasn't your fault," said Dorothy.

"Yes it was," insisted Tavia. "You wouldn't have forgotten it, Doro,
dear!"

And, to give Dorothy credit, she would not have been so thoughtless. But
she was a different type of girl from Tavia. It was the way she had been
brought up, as much as her own character, that caused this difference.
Good breeding is not a virtue, it is a blessing: hence in considering
such a gift we admire the fortunate possessor, just as we esteem the
beauty of the cultured rose, and, naturally compare it favorably when
placed next to some coarse untrained wild flower.

So it was with our two friends, Dorothy and Tavia. Dorothy was well bred,
and could always be relied upon, for the good breeding was nicely coupled
with a kindness of heart that composed a charming character. Though
Dorothy had no mother her aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White almost filled that
place in the girl's heart.

The White family, with whom Dorothy, her father and two brothers had gone
to live, since the advent of the legacy, consisted of Mrs. White and her
two sons, Nat and Ned. Mr. White had died some years ago, while engaged
in a scientific expedition.

Not having a daughter of her own Dorothy's Aunt Winnie was especially
fond of her pretty niece, and, as the girl could barely remember her own
mother, she lavished her affection on her father's sister.

Dorothy's affection, love and devotion to her father was of a different
type from that given to any other living creature, not excepting her own
darling brothers, Joe and Roger, and Roger had almost grown up in his
sister's arms, for he had been a tiny baby when his mother was called
away.

It was in Dalton that Dorothy had met and learned to love Tavia. The
Travers family, of whom Tavia was the most interesting member, lived not
far from the Dale homestead. Tavia had grown up with Dorothy, as her most
intimate friend and companion, and it was Dorothy's love for Tavia that
had wrought miracles for the girl who lacked proper home training, for
her parents were of that class generally designated as improvident.

Tavia always ignored the saving rules of correct society, and, being
naturally bright, and strangely pretty was, now that she was in her
fifteenth year, in a fair way to be spoiled by those who delighted to
hear her witty nonsense, and who looked upon her frolics as entertaining
in an otherwise stupid old world.

"Well, shall we go along now?" asked Ned, as he again took his place at
the steering wheel.

"Yes, but go slow," begged Tavia. "We can go home by a different road. We
have lots of time, before we have to be back to Glenwood School for tea."

"Slow it is," replied Ned, not at all sorry that he could take it easy
after the strenuous time. Dorothy had many questions to ask her
cousins--all about her father's rheumatism--whether the electric
treatment was doing him as much good as the doctors had promised--how her
brothers were getting on at school--how strange it seemed to have Roger
at school!--and scores of other things. But she always came back to her
father or the boys--to Roger--she could scarcely imagine her baby brother
running home to Aunt Winnie with his book under his arm.

While Ned and Dorothy were thus busy with family affairs, Nat and Tavia,
seated on the rear seat, were discussing purely personal matters. Nat
told of the tour he and his brother had made from North Birchland, the
trip being undertaken with other members of a club, which was holding a
meet not far from Glenwood School. Tavia found plenty of small
interesting talk to "give and take" with Nat.

"Dorothy," she asked suddenly, "do you think we could get off all day
to-morrow and take a run out to where the auto meet is being held? It
would be all sorts of fun and--"

"To-morrow?" echoed Dorothy. "Why you know we have our English exams. and
our geometry to make up. Besides, Mrs. Pangborn would never allow us to
go to a boys' camp."

"Allow us! Just as if we were in the kindergarten! Let's make up some
excuse and go! Now, Doro, don't look so shocked! Surely you have the
right to go out with your own cousins?"

"Tavia, don't talk such nonsense!" exclaimed Dorothy severely. "You know
perfectly well we are under the school rules, and that we are in honor
bound not to violate them. As if any sensible girl would risk her good
standing for such an escapade!"

"What's the'standing' at Glenwood compared to the'sitting' in the Fire
Bird?" asked Tavia flippantly. "Besides, just think of all the jolly
fellows we would meet; wouldn't we, Nat?"

"There's a great collection of wild ducks out there at the auto camp,"
Nat answered rather reluctantly, for he plainly saw that Tavia's
surprising proposition had caused Dorothy serious annoyance.

"Well, I've a mind to go myself. Will you come for me, boys? I could
disappear at class hour, when all the 'tattle-tales' will be sure to be
busy, scheming out of their work. Then I could get back in time to have
my head tied up at lunch hour--head-ache all the morning, you know.
Simplest thing in the world."

Even the boys scarcely smiled as Tavia unfolded a possible plan to
deceive her teachers, and to dishonor her own name. Her friends were well
accustomed to her pranks and prattle, and usually regarded her nonsense
as mere babble. But, somehow, Tavia, was "growing up," lately, and it
seemed quite time for her to take life more seriously.

"Tavia," spoke up Dorothy finally, "you came to Glenwood upon my aunt's
recommendation, and under my--"

"Wing!" broke in Tavia, throwing her arms out toward the slender form of
the girl seated ahead of her in the auto.

"At any rate," finished Dorothy, "I'm perfectly sure that my cousins will
never take part in any such nonsense."

"Oh, Mr. Flea, you've bitten me, and you must die!" sang Tavia, making a
series of melo-dramatic gestures, that caused the boys to laugh and even
made Dorothy smile in forgiveness.

"Thus are my social ambitions nipped in the bud--extinguished in their
first, faint gleaming," went on Tavia, assuming a tone of tragedy. "Well,
my fairy-godmother, Dorothy Dale Glenwood, when that day comes that I am
forced to spurn the lines of the Social Swim, and you find me beyond the
ropes, clinging helplessly to the tail-end of my former prestige, carried
out with the great, surging tide of struggling humanity, then you will
remember that I had attempted a correct debut, and it ended in a splash
of Dale indignation!"

Somehow Tavia's nonsense had a ring of reality to-day. Perhaps it was the
narrow escape at the bridge that had tinted her pictures with such a
serious tone--she seemed preoccupied, and gave her chatter in words
contradicted by her voice and manner. It was some minutes before any one
spoke. All appeared to be enjoying the "valedictory," and presently
Tavia, promising to "turn over a new leaf," made a grab for a branch of a
tree the auto just then passed under, and swished the foliage she
captured until every leaf showed its silvery under-side against the deep
blue sky. She laughed at her joke.

"Of course you know," said Ned, as he swung the car into a cross-road
that led to Glenwood, "mother expects you to come to North Birchland,
with Dorothy, this summer, Tavia. We'll try to make you
comfortable--ahem! Nat has a brand new tandem, besides white duck duds to
burn--"

"Nixy! To wear," corrected his brother. "Mother says white ducks are
economical for man--and beast."

"Of course you'll come with me, Tavia," said Dorothy, noting instantly
that her chum had not responded to the kind invitation that Nat had
delivered for his mother.

"Perhaps," replied Tavia, vaguely.

"Are you going to spend all your time at Dalton?" continued Dorothy, much
puzzled at Tavia's manner