“Surely Miss Travers did not lose _all_ the money she had?” “All I had in the world!” wailed Tavia. “Except a lonely little five dollar bill.” “Where is that?” asked Dorothy, in surprise. “In the First National Bank,” Tavia said demurely. “Oh, then, _that’s_ safe enough,” said Mr. Knapp. “I didn’t know you had even that much in the bank,” remarked Dorothy, doubtfully. “The First National?” “Yep!” declared Tavia promptly, but nudged her friend. “Hush!” she hissed. Dorothy did not understand, but she saw there was something queer about this statement. It was news to her that her chum ever thought of putting a penny on deposit in any bank. It was not like Tavia. “How do you feel now, dear?” she asked the unfortunate girl, as they stepped out into the open air behind the broad-shouldered young Westerner, who held the door open for their passage. “Oh, dear me!” sighed Tavia. “I’m forty degrees in the shade—and the temperature is still going down. What ever _shall_ I do? I’ll be positively naked before Thanksgiving!” CHAPTER IV SOMETHING ABOUT “G. KNAPP” But how can three people with all the revivifying flow of youth in their veins remain in the dumps, to use one of Tavia’s own illuminating expressions. Impossible! That tea at the Holyoke House, which began so miserably, scaled upward like the notes of a coloratura soprano until they were all three chatting and laughing like old friends. Even Tavia had to forget her miserable financial state. Dorothy believed her first impression of G. Knapp had not been wrong. Indeed, he improved with every moment of increasing familiarity. In the first place, although his repartee was bright enough, and he was very jolly and frank, he had eyes and attention for somebody besides the chatterbox, Tavia. Perhaps right at first Tavia was a little under the mark, her mind naturally being upon her troubles; but with a strange young man before her the gay and sparkling Tavia would soon be inspired. However, for once she did not absorb all the more or less helpless male’s attention. G. Knapp insisted upon dividing equally his glances, his speeches, and his smiles between the two young ladies. They discovered that his full and proper name was Garford Knapp—the first, of course, shortened to “Garry.” He was of the West, Western, without a doubt. He had secured a degree at a Western university, although both before and after his scholastic course he had, as Tavia in the beginning suggested, been a “cowboy person.” “And it looks as if I’d be punching cows and doing other chores for Bob Douglas, who owns the Four-Square ranch, for the rest of my natural,” was one thing Garry Knapp told the girls, and told them cheerfully. “I did count on falling heir to a piece of money when Uncle Terrence cashed in. But not—no more!” “Why is that?” Dorothy asked, seeing that the young man was serious despite his somewhat careless way of speaking.