So the Cedars rustled to their hearts' content, and the pines whispered
derisively at their attempt to make themselves heard in the world of
music makers--poor little stunted cedars! So small beside the giant
pines, so useless in a tree's great province--to give shade; but that
file of trees, scarcely taller than a hedge, had for years and years
made the division between one land and another, so they stood for that
at least. As Nat had explained to Tavia "they knew where to draw the
line."

The morning that followed was one of those beautiful streaks of Nature's
capriciousness when she allows spring to turn back and give orders to
summer. It was late in June, yet the air was soft and balmy, and the
sunshine behaved so nicely that Tavia, looking out of her window
actually found dew on the honeysuckle, and saw there was no need to
close blinds at even ten o'clock--which was late for dew certainly, and
late for a girl like Tavia Travers to get her first romp out of doors.

Dorothy looked in mischievously.

"We didn't call you," she said smiling, "because you were so anxious
about your cheeks, you know. Let me see. I do declare, Tavia Travers, is
that a blush? Or did you dream you were Rosabel? Now don't try to tell
me that's perfectly natural. It isn't--it's simply divine," and she gave
her friend a reassuring kiss.

"When we get to talking such nonsense," said Tavia with as much severity
as she could summon on short notice, "I think we should do something for
it--get busy at something you know. It is plainly the result of
downright idleness."