"Yes, father is working on one, and I am so anxious to hear the result," said Dorothy. "Of course he will not write about it. I expect there will be lots of news when we get back to Dalton." Tavia had been silent for some time. The boys had failed to "wake up her jokes," as they expressed it. "Look here," said Ned tipping her chair back in a perilous way. "You can't claim to be sleepy for your eyes are just like stars. Nor need you pretend to be weeping inwardly for the coil of taffy we all forgot to bring back from Mikes' (if anything happens to that hair I'll have his license revoked), so now own up, what are you moping about?" Dorothy was at Tavia's side instantly. "You are tired, dear," she said. "Perhaps you are weak from shock. Let's 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 first thrust upon the pavements of social concrete. Dorothy was with Tavia in the pretty bedroom. The moonlight made its way in at the curtained windows, and the two girls were clinging to each other there on the cushioned seat, trying to "think it out," Dorothy said. "I had such a lovely time," sobbed Tavia, "and every one had been so good to me. But I could not help it Doro dear. When that Rosabel came I saw the difference--I saw I never could be your friend when we grew up. And then I got to thinking about home--Dorothy, I must go. I must talk about that money with dear mother and father and even little Johnnie--he did seem to need me so much! And I have been so selfish--to leave them all." "Now, Tavia, you make me feel badly. It is I who am selfish to take you away, but I am sure your mother particularly wanted you to come, and your father was so pleased. I tell you, dear it is all that money. You just feel you cannot wait to talk all about it, and I don't blame you at all. You shall go home just as soon as you want to."