Brandt, glad to be able to say something “safe.”

“And you, Lispy,” said Lena to Nita. “You and Adele started the epidemic with your water wings. Next time make it life preservers.”

The girlish spirits, “bottled up” during the period of worry came out with a resounding “pop” now, and the walk home proved even pleasanter than the one to the beach.

“For now,” declared Ned, between her jokes, “we are like the man who laughed at the ugly cow from inside the fence—he found it much funnier to laugh at the cow from outside the fence.”

CHAPTER IX DOROTHY AND TAVIA

DOROTHY AND TAVIA

For more than a week after the happenings at Sunset Lake the pupils of Glenwood School had little time for anything outside of the regular program of the institution. It was a matter of sleep, eat, exercise, then study and recite, and then the same schedule was begun all over again the following day. But this was the end of the term and so much remained to be done that it was necessary to “keep going” as the girls expressed it, so that the “last day” would find the records of the year’s work up to the usual high standard.

“This mental house-cleaning is perfectly terriblocious!” declared Tavia one morning, showing her aptitude at coining alleged new words, this one being a “contraction” of terrible and ferocious.

“But how nice it will be when we are all done,” Dorothy reminded her, taking up her books and papers, to attend the last exercise in mathematics.

“Perhaps,” sighed Tavia.

The conversation was ended abruptly by the sound of the bell summoning the girls to class, and they went back to the “house-cleaning,” each doing her best to finish honorably, in spite of the difference of their respective motives.

That evening Dorothy and Tavia went to their room early. Tavia seemed tired, and Dorothy did not wish to disturb her by coming in later.

Neither appeared inclined to talk, and, as Tavia went through her elaborate toilet preparations (the facial massage and all the accompaniments) Dorothy watched her in silence.

Strange as it was to believe Tavia so vain, Dorothy had become accustomed to this nightly process, and now accepted it without comment. Neither had she ever told Tavia of that night when, in her sleep, 

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