evidence of illness, and then, for the first time, it occurred to Dorothy that Tavia had been walking in her sleep! And making-up in her sleep!

What could it mean?

How ghastly that hideous color and the streaks made Tavia’s face appear!

And, as Dorothy sat beside the bed, gazing into that besmeared face, while the flicker of the little candle played like a tiny lime-light over the girl’s cruelly changed features, a strange fear came into Dorothy’s heart!

After all, was Tavia going to disappoint her? Would she fail just when she seemed to have turned the most dangerous corner in her short career—that of stepping from the freedom of girlhood into the more dignified realm of young-ladyship? And would she always be just ordinary Tavia Travers? Always of contradictory impulses, was she never to be relied upon—never to become a well-bred girl?

Tavia turned slightly and rubbed her hand across her face. She seemed to breathe heavily, Dorothy thought, and, as she touched Tavia’s painted cheek she was certain it was feverish. With that promptness of action that had always characterized Dorothy’s work in real emergencies, she snatched the cold cream from the dresser where Tavia had left it, and, with deft fingers, quickly rubbed a generous supply over the face on the pillows.

Although Tavia was waking now Dorothy was determined, if possible, to remove all traces of the red paint before Tavia herself should know that it had been on her cheeks. Briskly, but with a hand gentle and calm, Dorothy rubbed the cream off on her own linen handkerchief, taking the red mixture with it. Nothing was now left on Tavia’s face but a thin coating of the cold cream. That could tell no tales.

Tavia turned to Dorothy and opened her eyes.

“What—what is the matter?” she asked, like one waking from a strange dream.

“Nothing, dear,” answered Dorothy. “But I guess you had some night vision,” and she placed the candle, still lighted, on the dresser.

“Did I call? Did I have the nightmare? Why are you not in bed?”

“I got up to see if you were all right,” answered Dorothy truthfully. “Do you want anything? Shall I get you a nice cool drink from the ice tank?”

Tavia was rubbing her face.

 Prev. P 23/126 next