Dorothy chatted pleasantly to her aunt, occasionally referring to something to Tavia to give her a chance to join in the conversation and Tavia noticed that Dorothy had already cheered up wonderfully.

“I suppose this is the sort of company Doro belongs in,” Tavia thought.  “There is something so different about society people.”

Mrs. White certainly was different.  She knew exactly how to interest the girls, and she also knew how to make them feel at home.  She had asked all sorts of polite questions about Dalton folks, and showed the keenest interest in the new appointment of Squire Travers.  Tavia insisted that Dorothy had elected him, and this item of news Mrs. White begged Tavia would repeat to the “boys” as she declared they would be “just delighted to hear how their girl cousin managed Dalton politics.”

The boys were at camp, Mrs. White told the girls, and an early visit to their quarters was among the treats promised.

From the station to the “Cedars” was but a short ride, and when the carriage turned into the cedar shaded driveway Tavia felt another “spasm” of alarm—­it was such an imposing looking place.

“This is where you may play games,” said Mrs. White, pointing out the broad campus behind the trees.  “The boys have no end of sport hiding in the cedars, and I am sure you girls will find them jolly.  There are some very pleasant neighbors at the next cottage—­one young girl among them.”

“This is splendid,” Tavia said.  “We can invent new games here.  I think ‘tree-toad’ would be a novelty.”

Presently the luggage was taken in by the man, while the girls followed Mrs. White up the broad staircase to their rooms.

“Now, my dears,” said their hostess, as she opened the doors to two connecting rooms, “here is where you will ‘pitch your tents’ as the boys would say.  I hope you will be comfortable, but should you need anything Dorothy knows the plan of this house—­just ask for anything you want.  I’ll leave you now.  We will lunch as soon as you feel refreshed.”

“But, auntie,” called Dorothy, as Mrs. White passed into the hall,” won’t you come here a moment?  I have a very interesting thing to tell you,” and as Mrs. White stepped back to the door again, Dorothy snatched the hat from Tavia’s head.

Instantly the “installment” hair fell to the waist on one side, and clung to Tavia’s neck at the other.

“Why!” exclaimed the aunt.  “What on earth has happened to the child’s locks?”

“Hair tonic model,” laughed Dorothy, “sit down, auntie, and I will tell you.”

Mrs. White took the uninjured mass of golden brown tresses into her hands.

“Some one stole them, of course,” she ventured.

“One more guess!” smiled Dorothy.

At this the scar on Tavia’s neck was discovered.

“Not in a fire?” exclaimed the aunt.

“Exactly,” declared Dorothy, and then she told of the railroad accident.