At that moment Mrs. White appeared on the porch.
"What was that I heard about godmothers?" she asked. "You know, Dorothy, I hold that sacred position towards you, and you must not let any one malign the title," she said, laughingly.
"Oh, this was the fairy kind," replied Dorothy. "Tavia was just saying she had promised to let hers off without further requests after the last was granted."
"When Doro goes away to school," interrupted Tavia, "I shall either become a nun or—"
"Go with her! How would that do?" asked Mrs. White, convinced that the parting of Dorothy and Tavia would mean a direct loss for both.
"If I worked this year and earned the money to go next? Or do they consider the wage-earning class debarred from boarding school society?" asked Tavia.
Again the sentiment Tavia had expressed to Dorothy: the difference in the classes. This was becoming a habit to Tavia, the habit of almost sneering at those who appeared better off than herself. And yet, as Mrs. White scrutinized her, she felt it was not a sentiment in any way allied to jealousy, but rather regret, or the sense of loss that the lot of Tavia Travers had been cast in a different mold to that of Dorothy Dale. It had to do entirely with Tavia's love for Dorothy.
"Now, my dear," began Mrs. White, addressing Tavia, "you really must not speak that way. You know there is a class of people, too prominent nowadays, who believe that the rights of others should be their rights. That there should be no distinction in the ownership of property—"
"Gloriotious!" exclaimed Tavia. "Do you suppose they would let me in their club?"
"I'll tell you, girls," said Mrs. White. "Squire Travers is going to call here this evening by appointment. And if you are both very, very good little girls, perhaps I will have some very important news to give you in the morning."