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?”
“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.