“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!

With a conceited toss of her head Sarah Ford stepped to the front.

“She’s mean,” was whispered around.  “Perhaps teacher knows only the meanest girl would ever take Doro’s place.”

Meanwhile two very miserable girls were crying their eyes sore in the back seat.

“Oh, Doro!” sobbed Tavia, “to think you lost it on my account.”

“It was not on your account,” wailed Dorothy, “but on account of an unreasonable teacher.”

“Hush!  She’ll hear you.”

“Hope she does,” went on the crying girl.  “I would just like her to know what I think of her.  I don’t care if I never come in this old school again.”

“I never will,” whispered Tavia.

The ranks were formed now, and the girls marched out.  An unpardonable expression covered the face of Sarah Ford as she passed the tearful ones.

“There,” hissed Tavia, sticking out her tongue at the unpopular leader.  “Sneak!” she hissed again, and made the most unmistakable face of contempt and defiance at the haughty Sarah.