not do so? Why do you not do so now?"

"I suppose she told you that I--"

"She told me nothing," interrupted Dorothy, "but that you had made some
mistake in a money matter and then suggested that the way for you to
rectify it would be to write to your father and tell him all about it."

"I wonder she did not essay to do that herself--she seems perfectly
qualified to attend to it all for me."

"Now, Tavia," began Dorothy, assuming a voice at once commanding and kind,
"it is utterly useless for you to take that view of the matter. If you
dislike Miss Brooks' interference, pay no attention to it. Do what you
think best. Look the whole question squarely in the face, and then
decide."

All Tavia's contrition and her determination to do what was right, which
sentiment had entirely possessed her when she entered the room, seemed to
have gone with the mention of Miss Brooks' name.

"If she has told Dorothy," thought Tavia, "there is no need for me to
repeat it."

So vanished the blessed power, truth, and so did the confusing and
conflicting powers of deceit throng about her, and more than ever preclude
the possibility of a happy solution for her difficulties.

"I must go home," she said dejectedly. "Dad said I should be home by noon
to-morrow."

CHAPTER XIX

BETWEEN THE LINES

When Tavia had left her, Dorothy felt utterly helpless in facing the
problems that now confronted her.

"One thing is certain," Dorothy told herself. "Tavia must not go home. In
her state of mind, and with her temper, there is no telling what she might
do--leave home, or something else dreadful. If I could only see Squire
Travers first," she argued, "I am sure I could manage it some way."

"But I cannot possibly go to Dalton now," she decided, "with Ned sick, and
the play to-morrow night.

"And how can I persuade Tavia not to go? I suppose she has her bag packed
already."

Dorothy seemed incapable of reasoning further. She threw herself down on
her bed and gazed fixedly at the ceiling, as if expecting some inspiration
to come from the dainty blue and gold papering.

How long she lay there she had no idea of computing--it was not now a
question of time, although the night must be far advanced, but to the
perplexed girl everything about her seemed to surge in one great sea of
difficulties.

She jumped up suddenly.

"I wonder how Ned is?" she thought. "If only he is not seriously hurt. The
doctor said if he slept, and no fever