Dorothy Dale's Great Secret. Penrose Margaret

lady was just coming into the office as Dorothy was about to leave.

      “Wait, dear,” said Mrs. Pangborn, “until I see if there is any mail for the girls in your corridor. How is Octavia to-day? I hope she will be able to go out by Sunday. Here, I guess this is a letter for her.” Dorothy almost turned pale as the principal took up the small blue envelope. “Just take it to her – perhaps it will cheer her up,” and she handed Dorothy the missive without attempting to open it or question the postmark. “There, I guess that is all I can give you,” and she put the others in her desk. “Tell Tavia I am anxious to see her out of doors again, and I hope her letter will have good news for her.”

      Dorothy turned away with a smile of thanks, not venturing to say a word. She held the blue envelope in her hand, as if it was some tainted thing, for she well knew that the missive was not from home, the postmark “Rochester” standing out plainly on the stamped corner.

      Tavia saw her coming, and quickly caught sight of the envelope in her hand.

      “There, you old darling!” she exclaimed, giving Dorothy a vigorous hug. “I knew you would bring it to me. How you did ever manage it?”

      “Mrs. Pangborn sent it with kind wishes that it might contain good news,” stammered Dorothy. “I made no attempt to get it to you without her knowledge.”

      “She had it? And gave it back to you? Why, Dorothy, if she had – but of course it would not really have mattered,” and Tavia slipped the letter into her blouse. “I’m awfully obliged. Did you hear from home?”

      “No,” answered Dorothy simply, a flush covering her fair face as she saw Tavia hide the letter. “I’m going out for a few minutes – so you may read that very important note, Tavia.”

      CHAPTER VI

      ON THE LAWN

      “When I was a very small girl,” exclaimed Mollie Richards, otherwise known as Dick, “I used to hope I would die young so I could escape the tooth-filling process, but here I am, doing these dreadful exams, and I haven’t died yet.”

      “Never despair,” quoted Rose-Mary. “The worst is yet to come.”

      “Cheer up, fellows,” lisped little Nita Brandt, “We’ve been promised a clam-bake when it’s all over.”

      “Yes, I fancy it will be all over with me when that clam-bake arrives,” sighed Edna Black. “Since Tavia has ‘turned turtle’ I don’t even have the fun of sneezing for exercise.”

      “It’s an ill wind – and so on,” ventured Dick. “That was a most abominable habit of yours – sneezing when you were too lazy to open your mouth to laugh.”

      “But I never would have believed that Tavia would get so – so – ”

      “Batty,” finished Amy Brooks. “It’s slang, but I know of no English word into which the explicit ‘batty’ may be translated.”

      “And Tavia of all girls,” added Ned, ponderingly.

      “But it seems to agree with her,” declared Cologne. “Haven’t you noticed her petal complexion?”

      “Too much like the drug store variety,” objected Nita. “I like something more substantial.”

      “Sour grapes,” fired back Ned, who could always be depended on to take Tavia’s part. “Yours is so perfect – ”

      “Oh, I know – freckles,” admitted the confused Nita with a pout. “Fair skins always freckle.”

      “Then why don’t you close the ‘fair’ and raffle off,” suggested Dick. “Much easier than sleeping in lemon juice every night.”

      “Molly Richards, you’re too smart!” snapped the abused one.

      “Not altogether so,” replied Dick. “At least this abominable French can’t prove it. I have always believed that the only way to acquire a good French accent would be to get acute tonsilitis. Then one might choke out the gutterals beautifully.”

      The girls of Glenwood school were supposed to be busy preparing for examinations. They had congregated in little knots, out of doors, scattering under the leafing oaks, and the temptation to gossip was evidently more than mere girls could withstand amid such surroundings.

      “There’s Dorothy now,” announced Cologne, as the latter turned into the path.

      “Yes, and there’s Tavia,” followed Ned, showing keen pleasure as the late absent one made her appearance on the lawn.

      “Now we will have a chance to study her complex – ” lisped Nita with rather a malicious tone.

      “Suit you better to study your complex – verbs,” snapped Ned, while Tavia and Dorothy came up at that moment.

      Profuse greetings were showered upon Tavia, for the girls were well pleased to have her back with them, and it must be admitted that every eye which turned toward her came back in an unanimous vote “beautiful.” Even Nita did not dare cast a dissenting glance – she could not, for indeed Tavia had improved wonderfully, as we have seen, under the “grooming.”

      Her hazel eyes shown brighter than ever in her clear peach-blow skin, her hair was not now “too near red” as Nita had been in the habit of declaring, but a true chestnut brown, and as “glossy as her new tan shoes,” whispered Ned to Cologne.

      Tavia wore her brown gingham dress, and much to the surprise of her companions, had “her neck turned in.”

      “What happened to your collar?” asked Dick, with a merry twinkle in her eyes.

      “I happened to it,” answered Tavia promptly. “No sense in having one’s neck all marked up from collars – going about advertising capital punishment.”

      “Behold the new woman! We will make her president of our peace conference. But of course we would not expect her to settle her own ‘squabs’ with Nita. We will have a committee of subs, for that department of the work,” said Cologne as she made room for Dorothy at her side, being anxious to get a private word with her. Tavia found a place between Ned and Dick, and soon the others were at least pretending to be at their books, realizing that too much time had already been wasted on outside matters.

      The morning typified one of those rare days in June, and the girls on the lawn were like human spring blossoms – indeed what is more beautiful than a wholesome, happy young girl?