Tavia knew very well that by explaining to Nat about Lance Petterby’s letters she could easily bring that young man to his knees. In her heart, in the very fiber of the girl’s being, indeed, had grown the desire to have Dorothy Dale’s Aunt Winnie tell her that she, too, would be welcome in the White family. Now Tavia doubted if Aunt Winnie would ever do that. Jennie was to go home to Sunnyside Farm the next day. This final decision had probably spurred Ned to action. Because of certain business matters in town which occupied both Ned and Nat at train time and the fact that Dorothy was busy with some domestic duty, it was Tavia who drove the _Fire Bird_, the Whites’ old car, to the station with Jennie Hapgood. A train from the West had come in a few minutes before the westbound one which Jennie was to take was due. Tavia, sitting in the car while Jennie ran to get her checks, saw a tall man carrying two heavy suitcases and wearing a broad-brimmed hat walking down the platform. “Why! if that doesn’t look——Surely it can’t be—I—I believe I’ve got ’em again!” murmured Tavia Travers. Then suddenly she shot out from behind the wheel, leaped to the platform, and ran straight for the tall figure. “Garry Knapp!” she exploded. “Why—why—Miss Travers!” responded the big young man, smiling suddenly and that “cute” little dimple just showing in his bronzed cheek. “You don’t mean to say you live in this man’s town?” He looked about the station in a puzzled way, and, having dropped his bags to shake hands with her, rubbed the side of his head as though to awaken his understanding. “I don’t understand your being here, Miss Travers,” he murmured. “Why, _I’m_ visiting here,” she said, blithely. “But _you_——?” “I—I’m here on business. Or I think I am,” he said soberly. “How’s your—Miss Dale! _She_ doesn’t live here, does she?” “Of course. Didn’t you know?” demanded Tavia, eyeing him curiously. “No. Who—what’s this Major Dale to her, Miss Travers?” asked the young man and his heavy brows met for an instant over his nose. “Her father, of course, Mr. Knapp. Didn’t you know Dorothy’s father was the only Major Dale there _is_, and the nicest man there ever _was_?” “How should I know?” demanded Garry Knapp, contemplating Tavia with continued seriousness. “What is he—a real estate man?” “Why! didn’t you know?” Tavia asked, thinking quickly. “Didn’t I tell you that time that he was a close friend of Colonel Hardin, who owned that estate you told me joined your ranch there by Desert City?” “Uh-huh,” grunted the young man. “Seems to me you _did_ tell me something about that. But I—I must have had my mind on something else.” “On _somebody_ else, you mean,” said Tavia, dimpling suddenly. “Well! Colonel Hardin left his place to Major Dale.” “Oh! that’s why, then. He wants to buy my holdings because his land joins mine,” said Garry Knapp, reflectively. Tavia had her suspicions of the truth well aroused; but all she replied was: