COLLEGE BOYS AND GLENWOOD GIRLS
"Isn't he stunning!" gasped Tavia.
"Do you think so? I never call a pretty boy 'stunning,'" replied Dorothy.
"I like Tom's looks best. He's so vigorous and athletic."
"But Roland's curly hair! And that complexion--so hyacinthy."
"Precisely my objection," argued Dorothy. "I always object to 'hyacinthy'
boys."
"Well, I'm just a little glad of it, Doro, for the fact is I think I might
inveigle him into taking care of me at the 'doings.' Now, I happen to know
he fancies you, and my only chance is that you may turn him down."
Dorothy laughed merrily. She was no prude, and made no pretense of being
one. She enjoyed most of the nonsense that girls between fifteen and
eighteen years of age usually enjoy. The strange young men, Tom Jennings
and Roland Scott, whom the White boys had taken to the woods on the
"evergreen hunt," called that very morning--came to make their "party
call," they said.
Dorothy and Tavia were busy with the Christmas wreaths when the strangers
happened in. Ned and Nat had gone to town, and it devolved upon the girls
to be "civil" to the new boys.
To be sure, Joe and Roger helped some, but Roger managed to say rather
embarrassing things about beaus, and Roland's love, that youth having
asked the little chap to take some "regards" to Norah.
Tom laughed, but Roland almost blushed. Dorothy and Tavia could scarcely
appreciate the joke, but managed to guess that the boys had been talking
about them.
Finally Tom came to the rescue by telling about the "ghost scream." Tavia
was much interested, but Dorothy laughed at the idea. She had any amount
of explanations to offer for the queer occurrence, but none of them was
accepted as being plausible.
Tom and Roland both declared they would go out again some day and look the
whole thing over carefully.
Then Dorothy told the visitors of the Christmas plans--at least, she
attempted to tell them, but was interrupted by the coming of Ned and Nat.
So the girls were excused and the boys left to their own resources.
It was after all this that Dorothy and Tavia gave their personal views of
the two young men from college.
"They may help along our charity play," suggested Dorothy. "They look as
if they might be able to act, especially Mr. Jennings."
"Yes, I fancy he could act some parts--a big part with a whole lot of
sitting down in it," said Tavia.
"And Mr. Scott might be something on the Christmas tree," returned
Dorothy. "In a pretty, striped dress he would make a dear little
cornucopia, his blond head sticking out of the top like a sweet little
doll."
"I'm just going to tell him that," threatened Tavia. "Then I will be more
sure than ever of--his attention."
"Tavia! you wouldn't do anything like that!"
"Why not? You were only complimenting him."
"Now, really, if you do, Tavia, I shall be positively angry," and Dorothy
frowned indignantly. "When we are exchanging confidences I don't think it
fair to betray them."
"Oh, all right, if you feel that way about it. But I really do think
these two boys quite an acquisition. They will help out wonderfully."
"But college boys are old enough to be engaged," said Dorothy, "and
perhaps we will get no more of their attention than was bestowed upon us
to-day," and she made a wry face to express her fears on that score.
"Engaged! All the more fun. I just simply love to make girls jealous. Now,
what girl on earth would be able to hold her admirers against you?"
"Don't be silly!" snapped Dorothy. "It's all very well to joke, but when
you get personal--"
"Oh, I beg your pardon! And there's Aunt Winnie. I promised to line the
darning bag--"
Tavia's love for idleness was no hidden sin--she seemed to glory in it.
But occasionally it betrayed her good intentions. She really did intend to
put the pretty blue lining in the dainty darning bag which Mrs. White was
making as a gift for old Mrs. Brown, the family mender. Now the chatter
about the college boys had completely driven the task from her mind.
As Mrs. White appeared in the hall Tavia grasped the neglected little
article. Dorothy had been sewing as she talked. She loved to do certain
kinds of stitches, particularly those of floss silk on fine flannel, and
this morning she had almost finished the shawl for John's wife's new baby.
Mrs. White had been out, and was just returning. She wore her handsome
prune-colored gown, with her mink-tail furs, and both Dorothy and Tavia
looked up in undisguised admiration as she entered the room.
Dorothy rose to assist her in removing her wraps.
"Well, it is finally settled," Mrs. White began. "I do think these charity
affairs are growing more complicated every year. I have not told you all
about it yet; in fact, I could not do so until this morning's meeting was
over. Now it is all arranged, so I must tell you about it."
"Aren't you cold, auntie?" asked Dorothy. "Shall I get you a warm drink?"
"No, my dear. We had chocolate at Mrs. Davis's. There, now, I am quite
comfortable," and as Dorothy laid the wraps aside her aunt settled among
the blue cushions, which, as Nat said, "grew in Dorothy's room."
"Is it to be a play?" asked Tavia, always impatient where acting might be
concerned.
"Well, not exactly," answered Mrs. White. "We think scenes from Mother
Goose will be simpler, and just as entertaining. Mrs. Brownlie has
offered her house, and I am to do most of the coaching."
This last was uttered with a note of dismay--to coach young people did not
seem a very delightful task, so many difficulties being sure to come up
unexpectedly.
"And we are to select the scenes," went on Mrs. White, "so you may start
in to think of Mother Goose just as soon as you like. For my part, all I
can remember is the old woman who lived in a shoe, and I am going to get
the boys to make me a shoe big enough to hold all the small children in
the Birchlands."
"And let me be the mother?" asked Tavia. "I want to whip those Mahon
children, and this would be my chance. They ran a pole out in the road
against my wheel last fall, and you may remember the consequences."
"Oh, yes," and Mrs. White laughed heartily, "that would be a great
opportunity for you, Tavia. But I rather thought of Miss Baker for the
'old woman.' She has that compelling manner, don't you think?"
"She ought to be splendid," agreed Dorothy.
"Are there to be boys?" asked Tavia.
"Why, of course, my dear, there are to be boys. Who ever heard of a
hospital benefit without them. We have to raise one hundred dollars this
year. And I feel the whole responsibility, as I am the local member of the
board of directors. I hope some day we will be able to have a hospital of
our own. Supporting a ward in a city institution is not very
satisfactory."
"But are there enough boys?" asked Tavia. "It seems to me the Birchlands
are populated mostly with girls."
"Oh, that is quite natural for you to think that way," teased Mrs. White.
"But haven't you taken into consideration Mr. Scott and Mr. Jennings? Why,
they are capable of impersonating a number of characters. Think it all up,
girls, and you will help me greatly. I have asked Ned to fetch a Mother
Goose book from the village, and this evening we will devote our time to
selecting the characters."
Somebody whistled outside, and going to the window the girls saw Ned with
Tom Jennings in the Fire Bird.
"Come on," called Ned, "We're going for a ride and want you to come along.
Don't keep us waiting." And he turned the machine without waiting for the
girls to answer.
"Run along," advised Mrs. White. "You have been in all morning, and the
air is delightful."
It took but a few minutes for Dorothy and Tavia to make ready. Storm-coats
and scarfs, besides their muffs, seemed sufficient for their touring
costumes.
Dorothy climbed into the machine and Tavia followed.
"Wouldn't one of you young ladies prefer to sit here?" inquired Tom, with
a view of making it more convenient for the boys to entertain the girls.
Tavia was out of the back seat and ready to take her place beside Ned
before any one had a chance to answer. This, of course, left Tom to
entertain Dorothy.
"As long as it is not Roland," whispered Tavia into Ned's ear, "you will
put up with me this time, won't you?"
Tavia was too frivolous to suit Ned's serious ways. She always bored him,
and she knew it, evidently.
Dorothy was glad to get acquainted with Tom. Somehow he made her think of
soldiers, of fearless brave men like Major Dale, and perhaps her Uncle
Winthrop White, who had died away off in a foreign country, fighting for
science. Perhaps he was of this type when at college.
Nor did it take Tom long to discover what sort of conversation would
interest Dorothy. He talked of his school, and asked about Glenwood. Then
she introduced the Mother Goose subject, and he told of a college play his
class had given wherein all the characters were taken by the students.
"And you should have seen Roland," declared Tom laughing. "If he didn't
make the prettiest Yum-yum! The house went mad over him."
"I'm sure he could assume such a rôle," replied Dorothy. "And you
were--"
"The Mikado, of course. I always come in for the 'Turrible Turk'
proposition."
"We have to select the scenes this evening," remarked Dorothy prudently.
"Then I'm going to get Ned to let me come over," said her companion. "It
will help fill in; our folks are just choked to death in Christmas stuff.
Aunt Emily is interested in the hospital benefit, too, I believe."
"Yes, Aunt Winnie said so," replied Dorothy. "I guess most of the
Birchland ladles help with this benefit. Mrs. Brownlie has offered her
house."
"The lady with the fluffy-haired daughters?" asked Tom.
"Yes, the twins," said Dorothy. "Eva and Edith Brownlie are considered
the very prettiest girls around."
"Oh, are they?" remarked Tom in seeming earnestness. "Well, to tell you
the truth I have given up attempting to judge of girls' looks lately. It
seems to me to be all a question of hair--how deep it can be piled up."
Dorothy laughed. To call hair deep, like so much grass!
But Tom did not notice the discrepancy. Tavia turned around and shouted so
Ned covered his ear.
"Are you going to be the 'Piper's Son?'" she asked Tom.
"If there's anything to be stolen, you may put me down for the steal,"
replied Tom good-naturedly. "Even the proverbial porker might be pressed
into service for a camp outfit, eh, Ned?"
Ned replied that there were some real attractive porkers about the
Birchlands, and that they would probably not mind being stolen for a
hospital benefit.
During all this time the Fire Bird had been gliding along at the even pace
which Ned always selected for a real pleasure ride.
"A joy-ride, with no business end," he argued, "should be run off gently.
No fun in trying to talk above an atmospheric buzz-saw."
"I suppose Nat and Roland have bowled till they're stiff," remarked Tom.
"For my part, I prefer the open to those alleys on a day like this."
"Mother told me to ask you both over this evening to help fix up the play
business," said Ned, "if you have nothing else on."
"Gladly," replied Tom. "I was just hinting for an invitation. You know how
I love classics--Mother Goose will be just pie for me."
"Oh, I forgot," exclaimed Tavia suddenly. "I have an engagement for this
afternoon. I ought to go back, Ned. It must be lunch-time." And, as she
spoke, Dorothy remembered that the day was Thursday, and that Tavia was to
go on that day to see Miss Estelle Brooks, the little woman in black.