CHAPTER IX DOROTHY AND TAVIA
For more than a week after the happenings at Sunset Lake the pupils ofGlenwood School had little time for anything outside of the regularprogram of the institution. It was a matter of sleep, eat, exercise, thenstudy and recite, and then the same schedule was begun all over again thefollowing day. But this was the end of the term and so much remained tobe 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 tothe usual high standard.
"This mental house-cleaning is perfectly terriblocious!" declared Taviaone morning, showing her aptitude at coining alleged new words, this onebeing 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 inmathematics.
"Perhaps," sighed Tavia.
The conversation was ended abruptly by the sound of the bell summoningthe girls to class, and they went back to the "house-cleaning," eachdoing her best to finish honorably, in spite of the difference of theirrespective motives.
That evening Dorothy and Tavia went to their room early. Tavia seemedtired, and Dorothy did not wish to disturb her by coming in later.
Neither appeared inclined to talk, and, as Tavia went through herelaborate toilet preparations (the facial massage and all theaccompaniments) Dorothy watched her in silence.
Strange as it was to believe Tavia so vain, Dorothy had become accustomedto this nightly process, and now accepted it without comment. Neither hadshe ever told Tavia of that night when, in her sleep, she had gonethrough the making-up process.
But school would soon be over--and then--
For some time Dorothy had been putting off a talk she desired to havewith Tavia--a talk about their vacation plans. Somehow she dreaded toundertake the topic that Tavia had been so obviously avoiding. Butto-night Dorothy felt that she must have an understanding--she must knowwhere her room-mate intended to spend her vacation.
Dorothy was just about to broach the subject when Tavia suddenly turnedto her with this surprising question:
"Dorothy, do you think I'm pretty?"
"Why, of course you are," stammered Dorothy. "You know I have alwaysthought you--pretty."
"But I do not mean what you always thought, Doro. I am awfully seriousnow. Am I really pretty?"
"I don't know," replied her chum. "I could not tell what others mightthink--but I have always thought you the prettiest kind of a girl--youknow that."
"But do you think that in--in a crowd I might be considered--attractive?Are my features good? Do I look--look interesting?"
This was said with such apparent simplicity that Dorothy almost laughed.There stood a pretty girl--without question a remarkably pretty girl--ofa most unusual type--and she was begging for a compliment--no, for anopinion of her personality!
Dorothy did not answer. She could not possibly say that at that momentTavia was a perfect vision, as she stood in her white robe, with herfreshly-brushed hair framing the outline of her sweet, young face. Butthe girl before the mirror wanted to know.
"Dorothy, do tell me," she begged. "What do you think? Am I pretty, ornot?"
"Tavia," exclaimed Dorothy suddenly, "tell _me_, why do you want toknow?"
"Why," and Tavia laughed a little to gain time, "I think any girl oughtto know just--what she is like."
"But all this--this fussing. Why do you do it?"
"To experiment," and Tavia laughed lightly. "They say one can do wonderswith a little care. I am tired of reading that in the magazines so Ithought I would just try it." She had finished with the glycerine androse water now, so the "stuffs" were put away and Tavia sank down with a"glad-of-it" sigh.
"Of course," began Dorothy, breaking into the topic of summer vacation,"you will go home first, before you come to North Birchland. You willwant to see everybody in Dalton--I wish I could go along with you. But Ihave no home in Dalton now."
"Come with me," suggested Tavia. "We have plenty of room."
"Oh, I was only romancing. Of course I should like to see everybody indear old Dalton, but I have to go to daddy and the boys. Isn't itsplendid to have a vacation? It makes school worth while."
"Yes," replied Tavia, vaguely, preparing to turn out the light.
"When do you think you will come to North Birchland?" asked Dorothydirectly.
"I can't tell. I expect to visit Grace Barnum in Buffalo. Her folks areold friends of mother's. I had a letter from her yesterday, especiallyinviting me."
"Oh, did you?" and Dorothy looked surprised. "I did not hear you speak ofgoing to Buffalo. I thought you intended to come to Birchland as soon asyou had seen your folks. You know Aunt Winnie expects you. And so do theboys."
"Oh, I'll get to the Birches some time during the summer I guess," Taviahurried to say, as she noted Dorothy's disappointment. "You can dependupon it I expect to have some of the fine times--you are not to have amonopoly of the good things."
"Then you are going to Dalton first, then to Buffalo, and what time doyou count on getting to Birchland?" persisted Dorothy, determined toknow, if possible, just what Tavia's plans really were.
"Oh, my dear," and Tavia indulged in a discordant yawn, "do let's go tosleep. I'm almost dead."
"But, Tavia, you always make some excuse when I ask you about vacation,"and Dorothy's tone was in no way drowsy--she certainly was not sleepy.
"And you always ask such unreasonable questions," retorted Tavia. "Justas if I can tell what may happen between now and--midsummer."
"Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy with a sob. "I feel just as if somethingdreadful was going to happen. I don't know why but you--you have--changedso," and the girl buried her head in her pillow and cried as if something"dreadful" had really happened.
"Doro, dear," and Tavia clasped the weeping girl in her arms, "what canbe the matter? What have I done? You know I love you better than anyonein the whole world, and now you accuse me of changing!"
"But you have changed," insisted Dorothy, sobbing bitterly. "Everybody istalking about it. And if you knew what a time I have had trying--tryingto stand up for you!"
"To stand up for me!" repeated Tavia. "What have I done that need provokecomment? Surely it is my own business if I do not choose to be the schoolmonkey any longer. Let some of the others turn in and serve on thegiggling committee. I think I have done my share!"
"Oh, it isn't that," and Dorothy jabbed her handkerchief into her eyes,"but you are so--so different. You always seem to be thinking ofsomething else."
"Something else!" and Tavia tried to laugh. "Surely it is no crime tobe--thoughtful?"
"Well, I think it is perfectly dreadful for a girl to go and growstraight 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 doanything I really thought wrong."
"That's just it. You would not think it wrong, but suppose you didsomething that turned out to be wrong?"
Tavia made no answer but the "old lady" look came back into herface--that serious expression so new to her. She seemed to be looking farahead--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 inGlenwood should be asleep. The last hall light had just been turnedout--but the girls from Dalton were still thinking.
Dorothy, usually the one to mend matters, to-night seemed sullen andresolute. Plainly Tavia was hiding something from her, and while Dorothycould bear with any amount of mistakes or impulsive little wrongdoings,she could not put up with a deliberate slight--a premeditated act ofdeception.
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, sheattempted to pet Dorothy back to her usual forgiv
ing 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 Taviaonly pretended to sleep--she had an important letter to write--an answerto the one that had come in on the evening mail, and required to bereplied to by return of post. This meant that the missive must be pennedthat night and dropped in the post-office the very first thing in themorning.
"Dear little Dorothy," Tavia murmured as she looked down on the fairface, to make sure that the eyes were resting in sleep, "I will never doanything to disgrace _you_. Only have a little patience and you willunderstand it all. But I must--must--" and then she broke off with along, long sigh.