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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Just when a fellow expects to have a first-rate time, she puts up something that knocks it out." Dorothy was disconsolate. Her eyes showed the result of a sleepless night, and her usually pink cheeks were quite pale. "She would never stay away of her own accord over night," she sighed, "whatever she might do during the day." "Now, Doro, dear," consoled Cologne, "you must not look at it that way.
You know perfectly well you would rather dig Jacks-in-the-pulpit out by our back wall, than snatch those honeysuckles at your window." "Perhaps," said Tavia vaguely. "But I guess you are right, Doro. You always are. I am just afraid to think of anything but what we've got." "Not even the five hundred?" "Oh, that is what upsets me. I shall expect it to make us millionaires."
Vere rose before him, as one who came softly to bring him the answer to his questionings. And he knew that his vexation arose from the secret apprehension of a future in which he would desire to stand between her and the Marchesino with clean hands, and tell Doro certain truths which are universal, not national. Such truths would come ill from one whom the lectured held unclean.
Did you find him?" called Dorothy, as that very moment she raised a clump of brush to hide the "togs" under, and at the same time she hailed the boys who just turned into the open field from the search through the woods. "Nary a find!" called back Nat. "Guess you were 'seeing things, Doro. We have come to the conclusion that the bandit lit on your brain." "Maybe," replied Dorothy.
"Now Doro, you are going to cry, 'cause your eyes look like polly-wogs. And you must be glad that I'm a man, like Joe, now," and the boy sprang from her arms, and stood up like a "major" before her. Then he was a "man," and her baby no longer. It was not the curls so much, but taking her baby from her, that hurt so.
But the warning came too late, for at that very moment Ned had thrown a picture, frame and all, into the box that Dorothy had started to pack the tea set in. There was a crash, and even the reckless girls paused, for the sound of broken china is as abhorrent to any girl as is the bell for class to the Glenwoods. Tavia dropped the pop gun she had been holding. "Doro, I am so sorry," she said.
At Doro, which they reached on the 13th of February, the Turks having plundered the nearest villages, the natives turned out with their arms, and war drums were beaten as a sign that they intended to attack the camp.
She had found the path to Jane Pumfret's affection it was cheek, just plain cheek, sometimes called courage. Yes, it was late, but Dorothy still had Tavia to console if only she could insist upon Tavia spending Christmas at The Cedars Dorothy had unlimited faith in the magic of the day before Christmas. Nat called to her as she started up to Tavia's room. "I say, Doro, maybe I could help.
"Wonder if we will see the man of the horse? He who made such beautiful bows, and acted so actly. Wasn't he lovely? My, I have dreamed of him, Doro!" "Foolish," replied the other. "Nat said he fancied that chap would make trouble." The thought that Cologne might have whispered to Dorothy something about Tavia getting a letter from this man just flashed across her mind.
There! Why did I? I have no idea. I was hot from a horrible vicolo. He was cool from the sea. What chance had I against him? And then he is through and through Neapolitan, and gives no quarter to a woman, even when she is 'una vecchia." As she finished Hermione broke into a laugh, evidently at some recollection. "Doro made his eyes very round. I can see that," said Artois.
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