Dorothy was asleep. She dreamed of everything--the superintendent's
office, of Miss Allen's sweet face, of how confused the other clerk
became--it was all perfectly clear yet so closely interwoven as to be
inextricable, after the manner of most feverish dreams.

It seemed she had been sleeping a long time when she heard whispering at
her door--or, rather, just outside the second door that led into Tavia's
room.

"But it was so foolish," she heard some one protest. "I wouldn't think it
so wrong as so foolish."

It was Nat's voice. Then she heard Tavia whisper:

"Hush! she might be awake!"

"I'd advise you to make a clean breast of it," insisted the other. "It is
bound to leak out some way."

"Not unless you tell," said Tavia.

"As if I would," spoke Nat again.

By this time Dorothy was wide awake, and realized that she had overheard a
conversation not intended for her ears. She coughed and cleared her
throat. Tavia was beside her almost instantly.

"Do you want anything?" she asked, with ill-concealed anxiety. "Is your
headache better?"