Mr. Travers recalled that this was the first morning he could remember when his two children sat at table with him.  They were always busy or sleeping—­any place but where they should be at breakfast time.

“Now, I must see Dorothy before school,” said Tavia, leaving the table.  “Johnnie, just eat all your toast while I clear up.  Then you can bring in fresh water, and some wood to have ready for noon, in case mother should not get home in time to do everything.”

Mr. Travers was also in a hurry to get down to the Green, he had made an appointment to talk with Major Dale and he did not delay after breakfast.  A new world had been discovered by him—­the land of prosperity; ambition for his children, and perhaps even contentment for the incompetent little woman who had suffered too, and who now might find a way and heart to do what seemed not worth while before.

But Dorothy had “anticipated” Tavia’s visit and was at the door before the latter had entirely cleared away the table.

“Why!” exclaimed Dorothy, when her eyes rested on the flowers, “you are celebrating!”

“Good reason why!” responded Tavia proudly, “my dad’s a squire!”

“I am so glad,” murmured Dorothy, giving Tavia a kiss.  “Now you will be somebody, won’t you?”

“I am already—­somebody else.  You won’t know me; better ask for an introduction,” and she walked haughtily to the sink with the last of the dishes.

“Delighted, I’m sure!” simpered Dorothy, imitating the society voice.

“Pray be seated,” went on the new Tavia, “I’ll be disengaged directly.”

Tavia’s happiness was so entirely self-evident there was no need for her to make formal expression of it to Dorothy, yet, as she had promised herself to be “just like other girls” Tavia felt the obligation to say something polite.

“I know, Dorothy,” she began, “we owe everything to you.  But it has really made a new world for us, and now, you will see how we appreciate it.  I am going to get through school, if I can, and perhaps, when we get better off, I may go on with you at school and grow up—­like you.”

“Tavia dear,” said Dorothy earnestly, “I am sure you will always be my friend, whether you have a fancy education or not.  We have learned more than can be taught from books—­we have learned to help each other, and to understand each other.”

“Yes, I cannot imagine anything ever coming into our lives that would keep us apart—­even distance does not separate minds and hearts.”

Tavia had finished her work now, and surprised Dorothy by neatly washing out the dish towels.

Dorothy was ready to go now for it was getting close to the hour for school.

“I must tell you something in confidence,” said she, “father thinks he has a clew to the little Burlock girl’s whereabouts.”

“Yes, and I thought the same thing when what do you suppose?—­Aunt Mary writes me that the woman—­Mrs. Burlock—­is dead!”