ur full name?
The very whole of it?"

"Octavia Travers! Birthday is within the octave of Christmas,"
declared the Dalton girl impressively.

"Oct or Ouch! That sounds too much like Auch du lieber Augustine, or
like a cut finger," studied Edna. "Better take yours from
Christmas--Chrissy sounds cute."

"Yes, especially since I have lately had my hair cut Christy--after our
friend Columbus," agreed Tavia, tossing back her new set of tangles.
"I was in a railroad accident, you know, and lost my long hair. I had
the time of my life getting it cut off properly, in a real barber shop.
Dorothy's cousins, two of the nicest boys, were with us--Dorothy went
too. It was such fun."

"All right, it shall be Chrissy then," decided Edna. "It's funny we
always turn a girl's name into a boy's name when we can. Let's go and
see Dick," and at this she dragged Tavia out of the corner of the hall
where they had taken refuge from a girl who was threatening them for
upsetting all her ribbons and laces.

"Oh, there you are, Ned Ebony," greeted Molly as the two bolted into
her room. "Where's everybody. I haven't seen Fiddle yet."

"Viola Green?" asked Tavia. "Funny I should have thought of that name
for her."

"You knew she plays the fiddle adorably."

"No, but I knew she had been named after her grandfather's violin.
What a queer notion."

"Queer girl, too," remarked Molly, "but a power in her way. Did she
come up yet?"

"On our train," said Tavia, too prudent, for once in her life, to tell
the whole story.

"She is going to cut the Nicks," announced Edna. "She told me so first
thing. Then she slammed her door and no one has caught a glimpse of
her since."

Tavia was fairly bursting with news at this point, but she had promised
Dorothy not to interfere with Viola in any way and she wisely decided
not to start in on such dangerous territory as Viola's visit to Dalton.
So the matter was dropped, and the girls went forth for more fun.

Dorothy had met Miss Higley, Mrs. Pangborn's assistant. She proved to
be a little woman with glasses, the stems going all the way back of her
ears. She seemed snappy, Dorothy thought, and gave all sorts of orders
to the girls while pretending to become acquainted with Dorothy.

"The crankiest crank," declared one girl, when the little woman had
gone further down the hall with her objections. "But, really, we need
a chief of police. Don't you think so?"

"Isn't Mrs. Pangborn chie