There were five bows of ribbon laid out in a row on Tavia’s bureau, each with a cunning little collar of the same attached. Pink, green—real apple green—mauve, tango and orange.
“What under the sun can she be doing with those?” murmured Dorothy, when she chanced to see them, and touching the pretty bows lightly with her fingers. “Why! Tavia must be going to introduce a new style. Are they ribbon bracelets? How pretty!”
It was the day following the hilarious arrival of “the bad pennies” at Glenwood School, after the railroad bridge had burned and delayed them, and Dorothy herself had met little Celia Moran, the girl from the “Findling.”
Mrs. Pangborn had not yet arrived. She had been delayed by some family difficulty, it was understood, and really, for these first days of the new term, “things were going every which-way,” as Tavia herself declared.
29 There was a new teacher in charge, too—Miss Olaine. Miss Olaine was tall, and thin, and grim. Tavia declared she looked just like “a sign post on the road to trouble.”
“And you want to be careful you don’t fall under her eye, Tavia,” Cologne had advised. “The girls who have been here through the vacation say she’s a Tartar.”
“Humph!” the headstrong Tavia had declared, “she may be the cream of Tartar, for all I care. I shall take the starch out of her.”
Now, had Dorothy Dale chanced to hear this reckless promise of her chum she might have been more suspicious of the five pretty ribbon bows. Indeed, she would have been suspicious of every particular thing Tavia said, or did.
PR
