Dorothy Dale's Engagement by Margaret Penrose

"Now, Tavia!"

"Now, Dorothy! " mocked Octavia Travers, making a little face as she did so; but then, Tavia Travers could afford to "make faces," possessing as she did such a naturally pretty one.

"We must decide immediately," her chum, Dorothy Dale, said decidedly, "whether to continue in the train under the river and so to the main station, or to change for the Hudson tube. You know, we can walk from the tube station at Twenty-third Street to the hotel Aunt Winnie always patronizes."

"With these heavy bags, Doro?"

"Only a block and a half, my dear Tavia. You are a strong, healthy girl."

"But I do so like to have people do things for me," sighed Tavia, clasping her hands. "And taxicabs are _so_ nice."

"And expensive," rejoined Dorothy.

"Of course. That is what helps to make them nice," declared Tavia. "Doro, I just love to throw away money!"

"You only think you do, my dear," her chum said placidly. "Once you had thrown some of your own money away-some of that your father sent you to spend for your fall and winter outfit-you would sing a different tune."

"I don't believe I would-not if by throwing it away I really made a splurge, Doro," sighed Tavia. "I _love_ money."

"You mean, you love what money enables us to have."

"Yep," returned the slangy Tavia. "And taxicab rides eat up money horribly. We found that out, Doro, when we were in New York before, that time-before we graduated from dear old Glenwood School."

"But _this_ isn't getting us anywhere. To return -- "

"‘_Revenons à nos moutons! _' Sure! I know," gabbled Tavia. "Let us return to our mutton. He, he! Have I forgotten my French?"

"I really think you have," laughed Dorothy Dale. "Most of it. And almost everything else you learned at dear old Glenwood, Tavia. But, quick! Decide, my dear. How shall we enter New York City? We are approaching the Manhattan Transfer."

"Mercy! So quick?"

"Yes. Just like that."

"I tell you," whispered Tavia, suddenly becoming confidential, her sparkling eyes darting a glance ahead. "Let's leave it to that nice man."

"Who? What man do you mean, Tavia? " demanded Dorothy, her face at once serious. "Do try to behave."

"Am behaving," declared Tavia, nodding. "But I'm a good sport. Let's leave it to him."