ded, and in her own way, helped back to a day of happiness an
unfortunate man, Miles Burlock. This man had for years been in the
strange power of Anderson, but before it was too late Dorothy had
helped Burlock break the chains of strong drink that seemed to have
bound him to the evil companion, and for this interference she had
suffered--she was now the object of Anderson's hatred. Anderson was
after the money that Miles Burlock had to leave at his death, but
Dorothy and her father saved this for its rightful owner, a little
daughter of Miles Burlock, who had for some years been kept away from
her own father by Anderson.

The child, now an orphan, came into the care of Major Dale, her legal
guardian and so Anderson had new cause for his hatred for Dorothy--the
money and child having both been put out of his reach. So this was
Dorothy's sorrow: she had been persecuted because of her goodness.

No one who knew Tavia Travers would have considered her capable of
worry. She was as light-hearted as air, with a great faculty for
mischief and a "hankering" for fun. But she did have a worry, a fear
that some day Dorothy Dale might pass out of her life and end the
attachment that came in childhood and waxed strong with girlhood.
Dorothy was what might be considered a girl of the aristocratic class,
while Tavia belonged to those who consider it a privilege to work for a
living and have a keen appreciation of the opportunity--as Squire
Travers proved when he turned in to show himself the best official, in
the capacity of squire, of which Dalton ever boasted.

Now a new danger threatened Tavia: Dorothy would be almost rich. Would
that help to break the ties of love and friendship between the girls?

Not that Dorothy could ever change in her sincere love for Tavia, but
might not circumstances separate them, and then--?

Tavia had been first to congratulate Dorothy on the good news and the
smashed hat had furnished an incident sufficiently distracting to keep
Tavia from the lamentations that at first filled her heart. Hence it
has been necessary to take the reader through her sentiments in a very
much less interesting way than Tavia herself would have disclosed them.
She had a way of saying and doing things that was inimitable, and
amusing, if not entirely elevating.

"Then you think you will stay in Dalton?" asked Tavia, finally, as
Dorothy succeeded in pulling the smashed hat back into some kind of
shape, if not the rig