“Mullen leaves,” in a surprised voice, then adding quickly, “Oh, of course, we all used to do that.  You were painting to go out to camp,” said Mrs. White.

“Tavia was going to help play a joke on Rosabel,” interrupted Dorothy, anxious to make the matter as light as possible, and help Tavia with her honesty.

“Why, that would be too bad,” said Mrs. White, “Poor Rosabel has trouble with her skin.  It is always flaming red, and it seems almost impossible to cool down the sudden flashes.  It is caused by a nervous condition.”

Tavia dropped her eyes.  What if Dorothy had not spoken against the joke, and if they had really gone to camp?

“Your train leaves shortly after lunch,” continued Mrs. White, “so you had better be getting ready.  I am sorry the boys are not here to see you off, but I will drive you over myself and see that you are safely en route for Dalton.  I almost wish I were going myself.  It seems an age since I have seen the dear major.”

“Oh, do come!” exclaimed Dorothy joyously, “Wouldn’t it be splendid.”

“If I only could, my dear, but I cannot this time.  I will surprise you some day.  Then I will see whether you or Tavia is the better housekeeper.”

“Please do not surprise me,” begged Tavia, “although I should be so very glad to see you—­give me notice, so that you may be able to get in.  Whenever I take to sweeping and bar up the doors with furniture my Sunday school teacher calls.”

“I always was considered a good player at hopscotch,” joked Mrs. White, “so you need not worry about that, Tavia, dear.”

The dress suit cases were to be packed.  They had been full enough coming, but it was soon found impossible to get all the new things in them for the journey back.  Tavia discovered this first, and called it in to Dorothy’s room.

“I can’t get my things in either,” answered Dorothy back, through the summer draperies that divided the apartments.  “We will have to send a box.”

This seemed a real luxury to the girls—­to come home with an express box.

Mrs. White had given Dorothy a fine bracelet as a good-bye present, and to Tavia a small gold heart and dainty gold chain.

Tavia could not speak she was so surprised and pleased at first.  Dorothy had a locket and chain, but Tavia had hardly ever expected to own such a costly trinket.  The maid had brought the gifts up.  Mrs. White was busy dressing.

“I’ll have to hug her,” declared Tavia, kissing the heart set with a garnet.

“Just do,” agreed Dorothy, “she would be so pleased.”

Down the stairs flew Tavia.  Lightly she touched the mahogany paneled door at Mrs. White’s boudoir.

“Come,” answered the pleasant voice.

“I came to thank you,” faltered Tavia, glancing with misgivings at the handsome bared arms and throat before the gilt framed mirror.

“For your heart?” and Mrs. White smiled so kindly.