go in."

"Indeed I'm all right--" stammered Tavia, but a hot tear fell on
Dorothy's hand, and told a different story.

"Homesick!" whispered Ned as he kissed Dorothy good night. "She'll be
all right to-morrow."




CHAPTER XXIV

THE PAINTED FACE


Human life seems so like that depicted in the elements about us; a patch
of blue here, and a streak of blackness stealing up there to cover it. A
glint of gold there and a flurry of smoke almost upon it. So with life:
brightness is so closely followed by shadows that gloom and glow become
inseparable. Perhaps the contrasts save us from the blinding glare of
extremes; it may be well to have even our joys tempered with moderation.

It had been such a happy day--Tavia felt she had never before known how
to enjoy life. There had been many happy times of course, in Dalton, and
Dorothy had often surprised her with entirely unexpected little treats;
but somehow this was different, there was so much to be enjoyed at once.

Ah, Tavia! that is why reaction comes so suddenly. You left Nature
behind you in Dalton--human wild flowers have a hard time of it when