Tavia bounded around the room as if in high glee. “Now Doro, we’ve got it,” she declared. “Jean knows about the company, and, my word for it if there is anything wrong it’s among her folks, not with your father. Makes me feel more positive than ever that it will come right for the Major, for they have got to come to light. I am just waiting for Jean to be lighted up here. Wait!” and Tavia gave Dorothy a hug, “wait until her uncle stops sending money. Then we will see where the haughty Jean will be!”
But Dorothy was stunned. “She knows my position,” she said dolefully. “Perhaps she has already begun to shun me as one too poor to be in her set.”
“Doro!” Tavia was determined to turn the matter into hope instead of anxiety. “You know perfectly well that she never had a set. Also you know that she—couldn’t even use the single letter ‘D’ that belongs to a Dale.”
Dorothy smiled. “You are improving, Tavia. By essay day you will be able to do something surprising. But I cannot sit moping. There’s study to do.”
Turning to her little table, Dorothy got out her books and note book. Her head was not very clear for her work, but it would work when she wanted it to, and she set about her task willingly. Not so with Tavia. Anything but to do a thing on time. Always that just one minute more, for Tavia.
“I’ll run out for a few minutes,” she said. “I am afraid Ned has gone into joyful hysterics over the doggie.”
Closing the door, Tavia noticed a bit of paper in plain sight on the floor outside. She never could resist reading another person’s letters. Picking it up she saw it was a torn envelope addressed to Jean Faval.
“Whew!” she breathed. “More news!” and she crushed it in her hand.
In a safe spot she looked at the contents of the torn envelope. What she read caused her to gasp.
There was no beginning, neither was there an end, for the superscription as well as the signature had been torn off.