"Thanks!" she spoke up, all the tears evidently gone. "But if it's all the same to both of you, I would prefer that you keep your pretty saying for Christmas. I'm just dead tired, and fully expect to be asleep in exactly ten minutes."
Dorothy saw that the sudden burst of gloom had been overcome, and knew that Tavia would actually be as good as her word and asleep in ten minutes.
"Good-night, then," called Nat, "and don't forget that to-morrow is the day before Christmas."
"Good-night," added Dorothy, "and don't forget you are to attend to everything to-morrow while I am in the city. See what it is to be on a charity committee! I'll have to have a substitute help with all the most important things—there's heaps to be done yet."
"Good—nig-h-t!" drawled Tavia with a forced yawn. "I am not sure that I will wake up until the day after Christmas."
"To bed! To bed, every one!" called Mrs. White, and then both troubles and pleasant anticipations for a happy ending to the queer holiday became hopelessly tangled in the dreams of the young folks at The Cedars.
Dorothy's last clear thought was: "To-morrow something must happen to make it all right, for to-morrow is the day before Christmas."
The sun was streaming in her window when she opened her eyes. She jumped up with a start, for she was to get an early train, go first to the hospital, then search out the wretched Miss Dearing.
"I could never be happy on Christmas, and think perhaps she might be starving. When I find her I will—— But how can I tell what I may have to do?"
Hurriedly she partook of breakfast and jumped into the depot cart that Nat had driven up to the door.