"Well, I must confess it may be difficult, but I see no other way to get her out of her troubles, for she is surely multiplying them. The latest phase of her difficulty I may tell you of without any risk of betraying professional confidence," and Miss Brooks smiled faintly. "She has lately written to her father and to her mother for money—urging some trifling excuse. Letters intended for her have fallen into her father's hands. He is a lawyer, or in some way connected with legal affairs, is he not?"
"A squire."
"Oh, yes, that's it. Well, he has put two and two together, and has sent the last letter she wrote him out to a firm in Chicago, asking them to state clearly, and at once, what their business has been with his daughter, as he has reason to believe that it is because of this business that his daughter is worried about money and is trying to get it for some secret purpose. You see, he has inferred that she is trying to get the money on account of her dealings with this firm. The letters written to her show that."
Dorothy tried to understand, but it was all very strange. What sort of business dealings could be so dishonorable?
"And how can I help her?" she repeated.
"In one of two ways. Either get ten dollars for her in some way that she may return the money to her parents if they have already sent it, or induce her to write at once to her father, telling him frankly all about the matter and stating that she does not now require the ten dollars. She evidently wants that amount to pay some one who has lost on her account."
Dorothy was amazed. She could scarcely believe that Tavia would have gotten into any complex affair. And that some one should lose money on her account!
"Could it be Nat?" was the thought flashed through her brain. She had overheard some part of a conversation between Nat and Tavia, and now Tavia showed some ill-feeling toward Nat.
"Well, I must get along," said Miss Brooks finally. "I am glad I met you, and hope I have not given you too great a task. Good-morning."
Dorothy smiled and bowed, but her anxiety had promptly written the lines of care on her fair young face, and even the aged postmaster did not fail to ask her if anything was wrong at The Cedars when he handed her the mail.