But one more day remained of the school term at Glenwood. All the tests had been concluded, and, as there were to be no formal exercises the “last day” was given over entirely¹ to packing up, and making ready for the departure from the institution.

 

Dorothy and Tavia were busy with the others. To Dorothy the prospect² of seeing her dear ones so soon, filled every thought of this day’s work. Tavia, too, seemed more like her old self and “jollied the girls” as she flung things into her trunk with her usual disregard for order.

 

“They’ll all have to come out again,” she replied to Dorothy’s remonstrance³, “so what’s the use of being particular how they go in?”

 

“But your pretty Christmas bag,” begged Dorothy. “Do be careful not to crush that.”

 

[89]

“Oh, indeed there’s nothing to crush. I took the ribbons out of it for the neck and sleeves of my white lawn, and when I extracted them from the flowered stuff there was nothing left but a perfectly⁴ flat piece of cretonne, with a row of little brass⁵ rings on one side. I just ran a bit of faded ribbon through the rings—and just wait until I show you.”

 

At this Tavia plunged⁶ her hands down into the depths of her trunk and presently brought up the article in question.

 

“There!” she exclaimed, clapping the bag on her head. “Isn’t that a pretty sunbonnet?”

 

Dorothy beheld⁷ it in amazement⁸.

 

“It certainly does look sweet on you,” she said, “but what in the world will you want a fancy sunbonnet for? Surely you will not use it in Dalton—and in

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