said Mrs. White finally, “that Tavia is ‘stage-struck.’”

These words came to Dorothy like a blow—something long dreaded but materialized at last—in spite of hopes and promises.

“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” exclaimed Dorothy with a sigh, “you don’t really think Tavia would do anything wrong?”

“No, that I do not, my dear,” promptly answered Mrs. White. “A thing is not wrong unless we intend to make it so. But Tavia has a queer idea of right and wrong. You know she has had no home discipline—no training in character building. She has grown to be as good as she is through the commonest law of nature—she was born good. But she has not gone beyond that same law in growing better than she started out to be—that is moral development, and requires careful culture and prudent discipline.”

“But the stage,” whispered Dorothy, as if afraid the very word would breathe contamination. “Do you think—Tavia would—would ever try to—to go on a public stage?”

“On that point I could not now express an opinion,” answered the aunt kindly, noticing how seriously Dorothy had taken her words. “Of course if she happened to get in with persons interested in that line of work—she might be tempted to try it.”

“But what could she do? There are no plays now—it is summer time!”

“The very time, my dear, when small companies try to get a hearing. There are no good plays to attract persons, and the stay-at-homes need some amusement.”

This had not occurred to Dorothy before. Her dread of Tavia going on the stage had been kept within bounds by the thought that there were no plays given in any of the theatres, for Dorothy knew little about such things, and had never given a thought to those small companies—the “barnstormers.”

“Well,” she announced with a sigh, “I believe I will have to write to her. I can not rest and not know just where she is. Somehow I feel as if my own sister had deserted me—as if she were out among strangers. Oh, Aunt Winnie, you can not realize how much Tavia has always been to me!” and Dorothy dropped her head in her hands to hide the expression of sincere grief that marked her face.

“Well, child, there is absolutely no need to worry. No doubt Tavia is snugly home at this moment, with her own, little, old-fashioned mother—or even out in Buffalo enjoying the visit to her mother’s friends. To sit down and imagine all sorts of horrible 

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