“It is no joke. Seriously,” said Tavia. “You see, Doro, I have been thinking, and more deeply than you would believe.”
“Don’t do it,” laughed Dorothy. “It might grow upon you. Then you would no longer be Terrible Tavia, thoughtlessly threading her way through the thistles of this terrestrial life.”
“Goodness!” exclaimed her chum. “That must have hurt you.”
“Not much, but it was a strain,” confessed Dorothy.
“Now! listen to me,” commanded her chum. “I have been thinking it out. You are forever helping people, Doro, while I go along having a good time myself, and never thinking of a living soul but myself.”
“Why, Tavia! that is not so,” Dorothy said, gravely.
“Oh, yes, it is. Don’t contradict. Look at this trip. You began helping people almost as soon as we started. There was old Lady Petterby.”
“For pity’s sake! what did I do for her?” demanded Dorothy, in honest amazement.
“You put yourself out to make her comfortable.”
“I did not.”