"It is not to help me," said the other, "but to help your friend, Miss Travers."
Dorothy felt instantly that she referred to Tavia's troubles—those troubles which Tavia herself had refused to confide in her. Should she hear them from another?
In her direct way, without mincing words or risking any misunderstanding, Dorothy said decidedly:
"If you are sure I can help my friend I will be glad to do so, but I have no wish to interfere in any personal affair of hers."
Miss Brooks did not weaken. Dorothy's honesty in speaking as she did only seemed the more to convince her that Dorothy Dale could and ought to help Tavia Travers.
"I know," she went on, "that Miss Travers is greatly worried over a matter of money. I advised her how she could be relieved of that worry, but in spite of my advice I have reason to think that she has only made matters worse by writing to her folks at home and asking them for more money."
"Writing home for money!" gasped Dorothy.
"Yes; I am sorry to seem a meddler, but I feel that she will greatly complicate matters unless you are clever enough to step in and interfere. It is the old story of the tangled web; Miss Travers had no idea of doing anything—irregular. She simply did as thousands of others do, though I must say boys are usually the victims. A girl rarely takes such chances."
Dorothy was too surprised to speak. They were near the post-office, and both stood in the road to finish the conversation.
"How can I help her?" asked Dorothy simply.