In the first place, I knew I would
have bad luck, for I dropped my comb while I was dressing."
"Break it?" asked Ned slyly.
"Yep," replied Tavia; "and it was a nice one, too--dark, didn't show--"
"Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy warningly, for Tavia usually kept Dorothy busy
correcting her possibly impolite speeches.
"All right, Doro. It simply was 'a nice one,' and when I dropped it I knew
perfectly well that I would 'bust' something."
"Did you?" asked Roger, not noticing Tavia's slang.
"Well, I don't know about the cart, but certainly I nearly strangled
yelling at the man with the reins."
Dorothy looked annoyed. She did not mind Tavia's usual queer sayings, but
she knew perfectly well that her aunt would not like such vulgar
expressions. The boys might smile, but even they knew a girl should not
forget to be ladylike in an attempt to be funny.
Dorothy hastened to relieve the tension.
"But when you got out to Gransville, was it dark?" she asked.
"Almost," continued Tavia. "The blackness seemed to be coming down in
chunks. Well, I finally reached the old shack and bribed the man into
hitching up the cart. Of course, it was awfully cold, and he didn't relish
the drive."
"Don't blame him," put in Nat.
"What?" asked Ned. "Not even with Tavia?"
A sofa cushion flew in Ned's direction at that, but Tavia continued:
"The strange part of it was we had to pass a haunted house.
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