ends like a love story, we will live happily ever after," and she gave
Tavia such an affectionate kiss, that the girl felt a strange nearness
to her new-found friend as if she had been suddenly adopted, socially at
least, into Dorothy's family.

"And now, my dears," went on their hostess, "I expect the boys out from
camp this afternoon, so you must rest up, and look your prettiest."

Tavia sat up and looked about her.

"Did you ever hear that story about why a widower was like a baby?" she
asked Dorothy. "Well, I feel just like him. They say he cried for the
first six months, then sat up and looked around and it was hard to pull
him through the second summer. Now I am looking around, but when I get
my five hundred I am afraid I will hardly last through the second
summer."

"I know you will like the boys," remarked Dorothy.

"But who will cut my poor old hair?" sang Tavia to the meerschaum pipe
tune.

"We will have to put it up in the folded fire escape fashion," said
Dorothy, "until we can drive out to a barber's. It is too late this
afternoon."

"Whatever will momsey say?" thought Tavia aloud.

"That you would have made a very good-looking boy," replied Dorothy. "I
am sure I never saw a girl to whom short hair was so becoming."