“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 role,” 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.”