"If you are really better, Doro," whispered Roger, kissing her good-night,
"we may go to Tanglewood Park for the Christmas tree. Nat promised we
could--and then perhaps we will see Tavia's ghost."

"Tavia's ghost?" repeated his sister. "Oh, you mean the ghost Tavia was
telling us about. Well, I am sure to be better, and then we may have a
chance to prove that there is absolutely no such thing in this world as
ghosts," and with a fond embrace Dorothy dismissed the boy with the yellow
hair, so like her own, and eyes just as blue. Surely Roger and Dorothy
belonged to the Dales, while Joe, with his dark, rich coloring, was like
the other branch of their family.

It was not an easy matter, however, for Dorothy to actually get to sleep
that night. So many thoughts crowded her brain: Tavia was acting queerly
about something, and it was perfectly plain to everybody she wanted to
talk to Nat alone, directly after the evening meal. Tavia was not a silly
girl--she would never risk such criticism if something quite serious did
not make it necessary. Then how that woman in black looked at Tavia when
they entered the train for home! She had to take the same train to get
back from town; that was easily understood, as few trains passed in and
out to the city, even in holiday time. But why did she sit opposite them
again?

And Tavia was sure she just wanted to confess--about the ring.

So Dorothy's thoughts ran riot, and her head ached proportionately.
Finally she heard Tavia steal into the room; felt she was looking down to
see if slumber had come; then, being satisfied that Dorothy was actually
asleep, she went out and turned the hall light very low.