that composed a charming character. Though Dorothy had no mother her aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White almost filled that place in the girl’s heart.

The White family, with whom Dorothy, her father and two brothers had gone to live, since the advent of the legacy, consisted of Mrs. White and her two sons, Nat and Ned. Mr. White had died some years ago, while engaged in a scientific expedition.

Not having a daughter of her own Dorothy’s Aunt Winnie was especially fond of her pretty niece, and, as the girl could barely remember her own mother, she lavished her affection on her father’s sister.

Dorothy’s affection, love and devotion to her father was of a different type from that given to any other living creature, not excepting her own darling brothers, Joe and Roger, and Roger had almost grown up in his sister’s arms, for he had been a tiny baby when his mother was called away.

It was in Dalton that Dorothy had met and learned to love Tavia. The Travers family, of whom Tavia was the most interesting member, lived not far from the Dale homestead. Tavia had grown up with Dorothy, as her most intimate friend and companion, and it was Dorothy’s love for Tavia that had wrought miracles for the girl who lacked proper home training, for her parents were of that class generally designated as improvident.

Tavia always ignored the saving rules of correct society, and, being naturally bright, and strangely pretty was, now that she was in her fifteenth year, in a fair way to be spoiled by those who delighted to hear her witty nonsense, and who looked upon her frolics as entertaining in an otherwise stupid old world.

“Well, shall we go along now?” asked Ned, as he again took his place at the steering wheel.

“Yes, but go slow,” begged Tavia. “We can go home by a different road. We have lots of time, before we have to be back to Glenwood School for tea.”

“Slow it is,” replied Ned, not at all sorry that he could take it easy after the strenuous time. Dorothy had many questions to ask her cousins—all about her father’s rheumatism—whether the electric treatment was doing him as much good as the doctors had promised—how her brothers were getting on at school—how strange it seemed to have Roger at school!—and scores of other things. But she always came back to her father or the boys—to Roger—she could scarcely imagine her baby brother running home to Aunt Winnie with his book under his arm.

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