"Not half as much as we want you to have them," declared Cologne. "The
fact is, we were just waiting for such a chance as this. We are all
gone--soft to-night. Take care we don't kiss you, Doro."

Tears were in Dorothy's eyes. She loved her school friends, and this
was an affecting parting.

Tavia snatched up the banjo. She sang:

"Good night! Good night! Good night! Good night!
Good night again; God bless you.
And, oh, until we meet again,
Good night! Good night!
God bless you!"

The strain swelled into a splendid chorus, and, while they sang, the
girls wrapped up the china pieces, putting each safely in the box
beside the damaged ones.

"Speech! Speech!" came the demand from Tavia's corner, and without
further ceremony Dorothy was lifted bodily up on the table and
compelled to make a speech. It was a dangerous, undertaking, for the
sofa pillows that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere put in so
much punctuation that the address might have been put down as a series
of stops. However, Dorothy did manage to say something, for which
effort she was roundly applauded.

The night bell called them to the sense of school duties still
unfinished.