No wonder, then, that Dorothy and Tavia were anxious about their appearance. Every school girl was expected to wear white, of course, and the bunting stripes of red, white and blue were bought in Rochester, by the school teacher, Miss Ellis, and sold to the children at actual cost--ten cents for each scarf. One thing was certain, no other girls would have such flowers as Dorothy and Tavia had. Such syringias and such daisies! And the ferns that Tavia had growing back of the well for weeks! Tavia had taken charge of the flowers for Dorothy, had made the big bouquet and had covered it with wet paper so it would keep fresh. The Little Captain had made certain that her companion would not be disappointed about her white dress, and although Tavia had to stay from school to wash it the day before, Dorothy went over to help her with the ironing, for Mrs. Travers managed somehow, to have an excuse for her failure in getting her daughter ready--she was that kind of helpless, shiftless person, who rarely had things ready for her children, especially in the matter of Tavia's clothes. "Your dress looks real pretty," declared Dorothy, as the girls hurried along to the school. "Thanks to you for ironing it," responded Tavia, with gratitude in her voice. "I only helped, you did the skirt." "That was plain, but the waist and sleeves--I never could have even smoothed them, to say nothing of making them look this way," and she straightened up to show the beauty of the garment. At the school everything was in commotion. Some girls wanted their scarfs tied, others wanted to carry flags, some insisted they could not go out without hats, while Miss Ellis, always strict, seemed more stern than ever. "Those who were here yesterday afternoon raise their hands," she commanded. Every girl but Tavia raised her hand. "Those who were not here to rehearsal," went on the teacher, "cannot be in the ranks. You know I told you all to be here, or not to expect to go blundering along the roads, disgracing the school. Now, Miss Tavia Travers, please step back." All the commotion ceased. Tavia the patriotic girl--she who had been searching for flowers in all sorts of dangerous and lonely places--not to march? "Teacher," spoke up Dorothy, her cheeks aflame and her voice quivering. "It was not Tavia's fault. She--" "Silence, Dorothy, or you will also lose your place." "But teacher--" insisted the girl, with commendable courage, "I know Tavia--" "Leave the ranks!" called Miss Ellis and Dorothy stepped down--and slipped into a seat alongside her weeping friend. "Sarah Ford, you may lead." This announcement caused no less surprise than did the punishment of Dorothy. To think that Sarah Ford, a stranger in Dalton, whose father was not even a firemen, let alone a soldier, should take first place! It must be admitted that not every girl cared when Tavia left the ranks, for she was not a general favorite: but Dorothy! Major Dale's daughter! and he the head marshal!