Tavia was rubbing her face.

"What's this on my cheeks?" she asked, bringing down her hand, smeared with cold cream.

"I thought you were feverish," said Dorothy, "and I put a little cream on your face-cold cream might be better than nothing, I thought, as we had no alcohol."

Tavia did not seem her natural self, and Dorothy, not slow to note the change in her, was only waiting to see her companion more fully awake, and so out of danger of being shocked suddenly, before calling for help, or, at least, for some medicine.

"My head aches awfully," said the girl on the bed. "I would like a drink of water-if-if it is not too much trouble."

A call bell was just at the door and Dorothy touched the gong as she went out into the hall to get the water.

She had scarcely returned with the drink when Miss Higley, in gown and slippers, entered the room. The light had been turned on by this time, and Tavia could see that the teacher was present, but, whether too sick or too sleepy to notice, she seemed to take the situation as a matter of course, and simply drank the water that Dorothy held to her lips, then sank wearily back on her pillow.

Miss Higley, without saying a word, picked up the hand that lay on the coverlet and felt the pulse. Dorothy stood looking anxiously on.

Tavia really seemed sick, and the tinge of scarlet crayon, that remained after Dorothy's cold cream wash, added a higher tint to the feverish flush that now suffused the girl's cheeks.

"Yes, she has a fever," whispered Miss Higley. "But it is not a very high one. I will go and get my thermometer. Meanwhile pick up your garments, Dorothy, so you can take my room, while I stay here the rest of the night."

Before Dorothy could answer Miss Higley had tiptoed noiselessly from the apartment. Dorothy did not like to leave Tavia-surely it was not anything that might be contagious. But when the teacher returned she insisted on Dorothy going directly to the room at the end of the hall, while she took up her post at the bedside of Tavia.

It seemed so hard to Dorothy to leave her friend there alone with a comparative stranger. As she reluctantly closed the door on Tavia and Miss Higley, Dorothy's eyes were filled with tears. What could be the matter? All the joking had turned into reality in that short time!

But Tavia was surely not suffering any pain, thought Dorothy, as she seemed so sleepy and did not even murmur when Miss Higley gave her the fever medicine. It flashed across Dorothy's mind that it might have been better to have acquainted Miss Higley with the way Tavia's attack came on-to tell her of the scene before the mirror-but somehow, Dorothy felt that she should not be told-that it would be easier for Tavia if her strange actions were not mentioned to any one-even to Tavia herself.

Dorothy felt the matter would not be a pleasant one to discuss.

And as no one knew it but Dorothy, she would keep it to herself, unless some development in Tavia's illness would make it necessary to give the entire history of the case.

With a head almost bursting, it seemed, from the stress of the complication of worry and anxiety, Dorothy finally settled down on Miss Higley's cretonne couch, while the teacher tried to make herself comfortable in Dorothy's place, and Tavia Travers lay still and heavy with a fever, all unconscious of the changes that were going on about her.

CHAPTER V AN UNTIMELY LETTER

For three days after that eventful night Tavia was obliged to keep to her room. She had a fever-from a cold the doctor thought-nothing contagious he was positive-but, as a precautionary measure Dorothy was given another room, until the fever should be entirely broken.

But the two friends were not to be separated much longer, for Tavia had quite recovered now, and was up and about her room, receiving notes and flowers from the girls, and recuperating generally.

"The first good rest I've had in months," Tavia told Dorothy, as they sat together again on the little window seat, looking out on the tennis court.

"I do really believe you look better than you did before you were taken ill," agreed Dorothy, giving her friend a look of unmistakable admiration.

"That's lucky for me," Tavia replied with something that sounded like a sigh.

"Why?" asked Dorothy in some surprise.

"Oh, nothing," was the answer, given rather evasively. "But a girl can't afford to get scrawny. Fancy yourself slinking down like a cornstalk in the fall! Why, even the unapproachable Dorothy Dale could not well stand the slinking process, to say nothing of an ordinary gawk like me going through it," and Tavia slyly looked into the mirror. She evidently had some particular reason for being so anxious about her good looks.

Dorothy had been noticing this peculiarity of Tavia's for some time-she had been so extreme about her toilet articles-using cold cream to ma.s.sage her face daily, then brushing her hair ardently every night, to say nothing of the steam baths she had been giving her face twice a week.

All this seemed very strange to Dorothy, but when she laughed at Tavia's new-found pastimes the latter declared she was going to look nice for the summer; and that any girl who did not take care of herself externally was quite as blamable as she who neglected the hidden beauty of heart or brain.

And there was no denying that the "grooming" added much to the charms of Tavia's personality. Her hair was now wonderfully glossy, her cheeks delicately pink, her arms round and her hands so shapely! All this, applied to a girl who formerly protested against giving so much as half an hour daily to her manicure needs!

Dorothy was anxious to have a serious talk with Tavia, but considered it too soon after her illness to bring about that conversation, so she only smiled now as Tavia set all her creams and stuffs in a row, then stretched herself out "perfectly flat to relax," as the book directions called for. Fancy Tavia doing a thing like that!

"When I dare-that is as soon as that old Rip Van Winkle of a doctor lets me off," said Tavia suddenly, "I'm going to get a set of exercisers for myself. I don't believe we have half enough muscle work."

"Why, my dear, one would imagine you were training for the circus ring,"

said Dorothy laughing.

"Hardly," replied the other. "I never was keen on bouncing, and circus turns all end with a bounce in the net. Those nets make me creepy-a mattress for mine when on the rebound. Have you been to the post-office?"

"No, but I'm going. Want any stamps?"

"No. But if-if you get a letter for me I wish you wouldn't put it into Mrs. Pangborn's box-I expect a little note from a girl, and I'm sure it need not be censored, as the rest of the letters are."

"But the rule," Dorothy reminded her gently.

"I believe the United States postal laws are of more importance than the silly, baby rules of Glenwood school," snapped Tavia with unexpected hauteur, "and it's against the law for one person to open the letters of another."

"But Mrs. Pangborn takes the place of our mothers-she is really our guardian when we enter her school. We agree to the rules before we are taken in."

"No, we were 'taken in' when we agreed to the rules," persisted the other. "Now, as it's your turn to do the post office this week, I think you might do me a little favor-I a.s.sure you the letter I expect is not from some boy. Other girls can smuggle boys' letters in, and yet I can't contrive to get a perfectly personal note from a perfectly sensible girl, without the missive being-pa.s.sed upon by-google-eyed Higley!"

"Oh, Tavia! And she was so kind to you when you were sick."

"Was she? Then she ought to keep it up, and leave my letters alone!"

"Well," sighed Dorothy rising, "I must go for the mail at any rate."

"And you won't save my one little letter?"

"How could I?" Dorothy pleaded.

"Then if you do get it-see it among the others-couldn't you leave it there? I will be able to walk down to the post office myself tomorrow."

"But you couldn't get the mail."

"Oh, yes I could," and Tavia tossed her head about defiantly.

Dorothy was certainly in a dilemma. But she was almost due at the post-office, and could not stay longer to argue, so, clapping on her hat, she bade Tavia good-bye for a short time.

"It palls on me," Tavia told herself, as she again approached the gla.s.s and took up the cold cream jar. "Who would ever believe that I would stoop so low! To deceive my own darling Dorothy! And to make a fool of myself with this 'mugging' as Nat would say."

She dropped heavily into a chair. The thought of Dorothy and Nat had a strange power over the girl-she seemed ashamed to look at her own face when the memory of her dearest friends brought her back again to the old time Tavia-the girl free from vanity and true as steel to Dorothy Dale.