“Can’t ride off on a sheep this time,” remarked Tavia with ill-chosen levity.  “Let’s run!”

“Yes, let’s!” chimed in Dorothy with a knowing look at Cologne.

At this the girls started off; and they did run!

When they reached the foot of the steep hill, Dorothy stopped to look back.

There, on the summit, stood the unmistakable form of the young man.  Beside him posed the equally unmistakable form of the farmer and his whip.

And the sheep were flocked around them!

CHAPTER III

THE DISASTROUS DRAG

“It was perfectly delicious!”

“I’m glad you think so, Tavia.  No, I am not, either; I am very sorry.”

Dorothy put aside her notes, and sighed the last sigh for one night—­that sort of content signal with which young girls usually put the final period to labor.

“Oh, Dorothy!” and Tavia flung herself down directly upon her friend’s nicely pressed robe.  “You always want to put the damper on.  What’s the use of being girls if we can’t be——­”

“Idiots!” added Dorothy, and she wondered why she so strongly opposed Tavia.  “I’ll tell you, Tavia, this business of chatting with strange young men is nothing less than foolish.  I can’t see where it becomes funny.”

“It begins,” said Tavia, balancing her pencil on her third finger, “at the point where Dorothy Dale turns preacher.  A poor sermon is absolutely—­funny.”

“Thank you,” returned Dorothy, without recovering her good nature, “but you must remember, Tavia, that we are leaving Glenwood in two days.”

“I may leave to-night if you keep on,” declared Tavia.  “Dorothy, I never knew you to be so obstinate.”

“Nor have I ever known you to be so foolish.  Tavia, that young man is—­queer.  He is mysterious, and I have a feeling that he means harm.”

“Pure jealousy, Doro,” and Tavia jumped up and flung herself almost upon the girl who sat in the shade of the study lamp.  “I am so sorry he did not take the notion to you.”

Dorothy was accustomed to these outbreaks, and they merely meant a gesture, or whatever fling came with the speech; the words indicated absolutely nothing.  She gave Tavia an answering smile.  “Well, dear, we won’t quarrel, at least this time.  But see that it doesn’t happen again.”

“When shall we go home?  Dear me!  It does seem a long time between holidays,” and Tavia tumbled down in the most nondescript heap.

“I shall be glad to see dear old Dalton,” replied Dorothy.  “Father and the boys are going with me to settle things up there.  Then we will go to Aunt Winnie’s.  I hope you and I will be able to spend our vacations together.  You know I am going to camp with Cologne, and she has included you in the invitation.”

“As Dorothy’s paper-weight—­no, it can’t be that—­I could never keep anything down—­it must have been Dorothy’s watch-charm,” interrupted Tavia, with a slight show of sarcasm.