"Well, Tavia," said Nat not unkindly, but with more determination than it was usual for him to show, "I don't believe in letting money go as easily as all that, and if there is any possibility of us recovering it, it is 'up to us' to try. You know I am no 'knocker,' but I would rather have my 'tenner' than that slip of baby-blue paper."
Tavia did not answer. She was beginning to feel the consequences of her error. She never could stand being thus obligated to Nat—and she a guest at his house! Her humiliation was crushing. Nat had never spoken to her that way before.
The ride home was made with little conversation. Tavia was planning; Nat was evidently thinking very seriously about something—something he could not care to discuss.
All the Christmas preparations had lost interest for Tavia now, and when, that afternoon, Dorothy and Mrs. White went on with their work of love, she sat up in her own room writing and re-writing a letter. Finally it read:
"Dear Old Mumsey: I hope you have received your pin, and that you have carefully hidden away Johnnie's steam engine. I know he will be delighted with it. Now, mumsey, dear, I have a great favor to ask. Could you possibly let me have five dollars more? I will send it back before my holiday is over, because I only want to lend it to some one, and I am sure to get it back. But, you see, no one has ever asked such a favor of me before, and I do wish I could accommodate them. Don't say anything to dad about it, but just send it along if you possibly can, and I will surely send it back very soon. I am having a lovely time, but feel I ought to be home with you all for my real Christmas.
"Lovingly, your daughter,
"Octavia."
"There," she finished, "I guess that will do. I do hate to bother poor, darling, little hard-working mother, but what can I do? Perhaps I will be home for Christmas, too."
Then she wrote another letter—to her father. She made the same request, couched in different terms. Perhaps they would each send the money, and then she could pay Nat.