The lost note! Perhaps other important matters had been overlooked in its disappearance.
"Is Sarah able to play leap-frog yet?" went on Tavia facetiously. "I hear Squire Sanders has been inquiring for me—just me, Tavia Travers. Ahem! Also my goodness me! Sakes alive! If I had only known the worthy squire wished to hold converse with this—me, you know, I certainly should have postponed my vacation. Who knows what I have missed?"
Dorothy's face showed how pleased she was; it was so good to hear Tavia rattle on that way. As Ralph Willoby had said, her heart was right, and so she made few mistakes where love could be counted on as her guide.
Tavia was stroking Dorothy's head affectionately. The two girls sat on the rustic bench, Dorothy with her head resting upon the other's shoulder.
"I made a discovery in Rochester," said Tavia, when she had exhausted every possible point, covering the sickness of her friend, the fainting in school and all that preceded and followed that occurrence. "Yes, I found out that a woman there, who did washing for my aunt, is named Burlock, and that she has been deserted by her husband—"
"Has she a daughter?" interrupted Dorothy.
"I don't know about that. Aunt Mary said she was such a strange woman, all the time moving, and no one ever could find out just where her rooms were. The way one had to do, to get her to do washing, was to apply to the Charity Bureau."
"But the Bureau must have her address," said Dorothy much interested in the story.
"Well, Aunt Mary said they could not keep track of her either. They know she is a good honest woman, who seems always to be in some trouble—looking for her husband, of course. I made up my mind that the man she is looking for is your friend Miles. Have you seen him lately?"
"No," replied Dorothy, thoughtfully.