"Bless the baby's heart! Hear her talk!" and the woman in the soft gray robe threw her arms about Dorothy. "All the same, when my heart gets unconquerably lonely for my daughter, I shall command her to come to me."
Tavia was "standing afar off." Her burning cheeks grew more scarlet every moment, and were plainly a matter of great embarrassment to her. She did want to offer her thanks with those of Dorothy, but somehow, her words were scorched when they reached her lips, and they "stuck there."
"My dear," exclaimed Mrs. White, presently noticing Tavia's confusion.
"Have you been in poison ivy? Your cheeks show a poison!"
"Only mullen leaves," answered Tavia promptly, relieved to have made the confession without further parleying.
"Mullen leaves," in a surprised voice, then adding quickly, "Oh, of course, we all used to do that. You were painting to go out to camp," said Mrs. White.
"Tavia was going to help play a joke on Rosabel," interrupted Dorothy, anxious to make the matter as light as possible, and help Tavia with her honesty.
"Why, that would be too bad," said Mrs. White, "Poor Rosabel has trouble with her skin. It is always flaming red, and it seems almost impossible to cool down the sudden flashes. It is caused by a nervous condition."
Tavia dropped her eyes. What if Dorothy had not spoken against the joke, and if they had really gone to camp?
"Your train leaves shortly after lunch," continued Mrs. White, "so you had better be getting ready. I am sorry the boys are not here to see you off, but I will drive you over myself and see that you are safely en route for Dalton. I almost wish I were going myself. It seems an age since I have seen the dear major."
"Oh, do come!" exclaimed Dorothy joyously, "Wouldn't it be splendid."