“You’d better hurry, then,” declared Ned.
“That’s right,” said Rose-Mary. “It’s getting dark now--and oh! it’s beginning to snow.”
It was snowing hard when Tavia went down to the office to deliver her papers into the strict Miss Olaine’s hands. The mail bag had just come in and the teacher was distributing the letters and cards into the pigeon-holes which served the school for letter boxes. Each member of the senior class had her own little box.
Tavia knew better than to interrupt Miss Olaine at her present task. The whole school had learned by now that the new assistant was not to be trifled with. Miss Olaine was as severe as though she were a prison warden instead of a school teacher.
Idly Tavia watched the distribution of the mail. She saw a fat letter put into her own pigeon-hole and knew it was from her brother Johnny. Dorothy’s box was right next to it. Already there were several letters lying in it, for her correspondence was large.
Then Tavia saw Miss Olaine hesitate with a postal card in her hand. The teacher had evidently picked it up with the message side uppermost. Something on the card caught Miss Olaine’s eye.
She gasped. Then the teacher turned white and staggered to a chair. The girl almost sprang forward to assist her; but Miss Olaine recovered her usual stern manner.
She read the card through, however--there was no doubt of that. Then she turned it over slowly and read the address.
Miss Olaine slowly recovered from her emotion--either fear or amazement, Tavia did not know which. She had evidently forgotten the girl’s presence.
She stood up again. The other letters had fallen, and were scattered on the desk. Miss Olaine held the postal card as though she contemplated tearing it in pieces.
But evidently the remembrance that Uncle Sam’s mail laws cannot be violated with impunity, held the teacher’s hand. Slowly she raised the card and placed it--in Dorothy Dale’s letter box!
“Now, whatever under the sun can _that_ mean?” whispered Tavia to herself. “For Dorothy! And she was going to tear it up----”
“Well, Miss! what do you want?” snapped Miss Olaine, suddenly. She seemed quite to have recovered from her emotion, whatever it had been. She spoke more tartly than usual, and glared at Tavia as though the girl had no business there.