it was very near christmas, and events were crowding about the cedars. dorothy, as usual, had assumed more than her share of responsibility, for tavia somehow acted queerly. she spent much time running back and forth to the post-office, and it was evident to all that she and nat were not the friends they had been previously. besides this, ned had spoken to dorothy, and had actually asked her not to "flirt" with those college boys!
this was unlike ned, and a positive shock to dorothy. to be sure, he chose the word "flirt" indifferently, but to dorothy it had an ugly sound, and that night, after all her worries at the rehearsal, she went to bed with a pair of very red eyes.
perhaps it was the rush and excitement that caused every one to be so irritable and to so misunderstand things. certainly tavia had some worry, and ned did not act like himself, while nat looked miserable. it would be a queer holiday unless things mended promptly.
it was a pleasant morning, and dorothy, feeling that a run in the open air would do her nerves good, seized upon some excuse to go to the village.
she wanted to be alone—to think about what ned had said, to look over everything carefully, and see if he had any excuse for such a remark. had she acted foolishly? could her innocent freedom with tom jennings be misunderstood? was it not possible for a girl to act naturally after she had passed the age of fifteen years?
her head filled with such thoughts as these, in all the power that they may assume when first encountered by a young girl, dorothy hurried along. she would simply tell ned all about it, she decided. he surely would understand that she never dreamed of "flirting."
from the main highway she was obliged to turn into a branch of the road from ferndale to reach the post-office, that little building being situated at the junction of both thoroughfares.
in her excitement she had scarcely glanced before her, but now, as she turned into the ferndale road, she observed a woman coming along the same path. it was miss brooks.
somehow dorothy was glad to meet her. after all, it was not pleasant to think too seriously.
"good-morning," said dorothy with all the vivacity she could summon. "looking for christmas mail too?"
"yes," replied miss brooks, with something of a sigh. "there are many kinds of christmas mail, i suppose."
the reply confused dorothy. she did not want to bring sad reflections to the "little woman in black."
"i guess we will have pleasant weather," dorothy hurried to say vaguely. "i hope so, at any rate, for we must depend considerably upon the weather for the success of our hospital entertainment. you know, we are to have one."
"yes, i've seen the tickets," said miss brooks, walking along with dorothy. then both paused. both had evidently exhausted the commonplace.
miss brooks looked keenly at dorothy. the latter could feel her searching gaze, and wondered secretly what it could mean. presently miss brooks said:
"i believe you are a prudent girl, miss dale, and i wonder if i might trust you with a delicate—matter?"
"if i can help you—yes," answered dorothy promptly.
"it is not to help me," said the other, "but to help your friend, miss travers."
dorothy felt instantly that she referred to tavia's troubles—those troubles which tavia herself had refused to confide in her. should she hear them from another?
in her direct way, without mincing words or risking any misunderstanding, dorothy said decidedly:
"if you are sure i can help my friend i will be glad to do so, but i have no wish to interfere in any personal affair of hers."
miss brooks did not weaken. dorothy's honesty in speaking as she did only seemed the more to convince her that dorothy dale could and ought to help tavia travers.
"i know," she went on, "that miss travers is greatly worried over a matter of money. i advised her how she could be relieved of that worry, but in spite of my advice i have reason to think that she has only made matters worse by writing to her folks at home and asking them for more money."
"writing home for money!" gasped dorothy.
"yes; i am sorry to seem a meddler, but i feel that she will greatly complicate matters unless you are clever enough to step in and interfere. it is the old story of the tangled web; miss travers had no idea of doing anything—irregular. she simply did as thousands of others do, though i must say boys are usually the victims. a girl rarely takes such chances."
dorothy was too surprised to speak. they were near the post-office, and both stood in the road to finish the conversation.
"how can i help her?" asked dorothy simply.
"well, i must confess it may be difficult, but i see no other way to get her out of her troubles, for she is surely multiplying them. the latest phase of her difficulty i may tell you of without any risk of betraying professional confidence," and miss brooks smiled faintly. "she has lately written to her father and to her mother for money—urging some trifling excuse. letters intended for her have fallen into her father's hands. he is a lawyer, or in some way connected with legal affairs, is he not?"
"a squire."
"oh, yes, that's it. well, he has put two and two together, and has sent the last letter she wrote him out to a firm in chicago, asking them to state clearly, and at once, what their business has been with his daughter, as he has reason to believe that it is because of this business that his daughter is worried about money and is trying to get it for some secret purpose. you see, he has inferred that she is trying to get the money on account of her dealings with this firm. the letters written to her show that."
dorothy tried to understand, but it was all very strange. what sort of business dealings could be so dishonorable?
"and how can i help her?" she repeated.
"in one of two ways. either get ten dollars for her in some way that she may return the money to her parents if they have already sent it, or induce her to write at once to her father, telling him frankly all about the matter and stating that she does not now require the ten dollars. she evidently wants that amount to pay some one who has lost on her account."
dorothy was amazed. she could scarcely believe that tavia would have gotten into any complex affair. and that some one should lose money on her account!
"could it be nat?" was the thought flashed through her brain. she had overheard some part of a conversation between nat and tavia, and now tavia showed some ill-feeling toward nat.
"well, i must get along," said miss brooks finally. "i am glad i met you, and hope i have not given you too great a task. good-morning."
dorothy smiled and bowed, but her anxiety had promptly written the lines of care on her fair young face, and even the aged postmaster did not fail to ask her if anything was wrong at the cedars when he handed her the mail.
among the many letters was one for tavia, and it bore the dalton postmark.
