the latter had entirely cleared away the table.

"Why!" exclaimed Dorothy, when her eyes rested on the flowers, "you are
celebrating!"

"Good reason why!" responded Tavia proudly, "my dad's a squire!"

"I am so glad," murmured Dorothy, giving Tavia a kiss. "Now you will be
somebody, won't you?"

"I am already--somebody else. You won't know me; better ask for an
introduction," and she walked haughtily to the sink with the last of the
dishes.

"Delighted, I'm sure!" simpered Dorothy, imitating the society voice.

"Pray be seated," went on the new Tavia, "I'll be disengaged directly."

Tavia's happiness was so entirely self-evident there was no need for her
to make formal expression of it to Dorothy, yet, as she had promised
herself to be "just like other girls" Tavia felt the obligation to say
something polite.

"I know, Dorothy," she began, "we owe everything to you. But it has
really made a new world for us, and now, you will see how we appreciate
it. I am going to get through school, if I can, and perhaps, when we get
better off, I may go on with you at school and grow up--like you."

"Tavia dear," said Dorothy earnestly, "I am sure you will always be my
friend, whether you have a fancy education or not. We have learned more