"Well Jack, I like you just as well as if you grew in a hot house—better, because you have taught me the value of life's storms—you have grown outside and know the music of the winds," and with the flowers she gave her friend all the hug she dared risk in the presence of the "railroad line" on Tavia's neck.
"But you have the sweetness of the greenhouse," insisted Tavia, "and that blows off with the music of the winds."
"Well, we will not quarrel over our virtues," said Dorothy, "the thing to discuss at present is what are you going to do with the railroad money?"
"What money?" inquired Tavia, showing surprise.
"Your damages, of course. How much do you calculate your other braid was worth?"
"Not worth talking about."
"But if you were offered a fair price for it you would not refuse?" persisted Dorothy.
"No, I'd take most anything from a cream soda to a twenty-five cent piece."
"Well, my dear, now compose yourself. Get a good hold on the chair near you, or better still sit down, since you insist on getting out of bed. I have a very lively piece of news for you—the sensational kind."
"Let her go," called Tavia grasping the chair with both hands.