"It's no harm, I'm sure; I've done it lots of times. Come out and I'll
show you."

Out on the lawn Tavia ran about like the girl she used to be. She was
looking for something. Down behind the hedge of Cedars then out on the
open fields patches of clover and daisies were tangled--they grew
outside the Cedars; beyond the line.

"Here it is!" she called to Dorothy. "Such a lovely bunch."

Then running back she brought to Dorothy a long stem of mullen leaves.

"What are they for?" asked Dorothy, for she knew the common plant well
enough.

"To paint our cheeks with, and it doesn't come off! Won't Rosabel be
surprised."

"But I wouldn't think of putting those sticky leaves to my face,"
objected Dorothy.

"Why, they're not poison," said Tavia, beginning to unfold the velvet
leaves that look so soft and are really so very "scratchy."

"Don't!" begged Dorothy. "It is just as bad as paint, and paint is
positively vulgar. I am sure you were mistaken about Rosabel. No
respectable girl would be so foolish."

But Tavia was rubbing the leaves to her pink cheeks with absolute
disregard of everything but "rubbing." That seemed to be the one thing