"Tavia Travers! How dare you talk so, of such serious things!"
"How else would you have me talk of serious things? The most serious thing in my life is money—its scarcity. Funerals, of course, take time, and are unpleasant in many respects, but, for right at home trouble, it's money."
"It is nice to think that the dear old captain should be so good to father," said Dorothy. "Father was always his favorite relative, and he particularly liked him on account of his military honors."
"Well, he ought to, of course," put in Tavia, "for your father keeps the name Dale up for military honors. But what in the world are you going to do with all the money? Don't, for goodness' sake, go away for your health, and other things, and leave poor me to die here without nobody nor nuthin'," and the girl burst into make-believe tears.
"Indeed," said Dorothy. "We can enjoy the good fortune in no place better than in dear old Dalton, and among our own good friends," and she put her arms affectionately about Tavia. "But one thing has been definitely decided upon—"
"You are going to buy the Harvy mansion?"
"No, a new hat. Father has just this minute given his consent."
"Make it a tiara and save the expense of hat-pins," suggested Tavia.
"No, I have a hankering for a Gainsborough, the kind the lady hanging over Aunt Winnie's stairs wears—the picture queen, you know."
"Oh, yes, she looks very nice in a picture over the stairs," remarked Tavia, "but my advice to you would be to wear elastic under your chin with a thing like that—or else try Gulliver's Glue. One breeze of the Dalton kind would be enough for a Gainsborough."