"Say, Sis!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Do you realize that this is the very day you are to go for an automobile ride with Nat White?"
"And that you are to go in the same machine with Ned White? Course I do, you selfish girl. So taken up with common money that you never noticed my get-up. Look at this," and Tavia drew from the folds of her skirt a cloud of something. "Automobile veil," she explained, giving the flimsy stuff a turn that sent it floating through the air like a cloud of smoke.
"Splendid!" declared Dorothy.
"Gloriotious!" remarked Tavia, "the real thing. I found it in an old trunk among dear old grandma Travers' things, and grandma loved it dearly. I persuaded mother to let me inherit it, and smell," putting the gray cloud of silk to Dorothy's face, "that perfume is lavender. Grandma always used it."
"What a dear old lady she must have been," said Dorothy, looking over the dainty article critically. "You are not really going to wear it," she faltered, realizing the value of such an heirloom.
"No, I am not, but—you are! There, Doro, darling, it is a gift for you from—me. You will always keep it and—love it—"
"Indeed I will do no such thing as to take your dear grandma's things. You must always keep this yourself—"
"But I want you to, Doro. It will make me happy to know I have given you something good—something I have loved, and something you will love for me. There," and she put the scarf over Dorothy's blond head, "you look like an angel. Grandma herself will be proud all the way from heaven, to see this fall upon the shoulders of one so worthy in face and in heart," and the two stood there clasped in each other's arms, the silvery veil of love falling about the shoulders of both, and binding "all the way to heaven," in its folds of sweetest lavender the hearts of two young girls.