"It's a wonder you wouldn't knock me down!" came a voice, struggling
between cold and laughter.

"Tavia!" he gasped, recognizing the tones in spite of the chattering teeth
and the forced laughter.

"Yes, it's yours truly, Nat. And for gracious' sake, do let me in. What
isn't frozen is paralyzed."

"Where in the world did you come from?" asked the astonished boy as he led
the way to the side door.

"From some place too dark for the earth and too cold for--any other place.
I think, it must have been Mars," Tavia finished, "and Mrs. Mars forgot to
light the lamps."

"But there was no train," remarked Nat, waiting for some one from within
to open the door in answer to his hasty knock.

"As if I didn't know that, Mr. White," replied Tavia saucily. "Do you
suppose I am the kind of girl who rides in a dump-cart in preference to
taking a red plush seat in a train?"

By this time the commotion had been heard, and the door was opened by
almost the entire family.

"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Dorothy, dragging Tavia in bodily.

"No mercy about it," objected Tavia, giving Dorothy a peremptory hug. "I'm
simply dead and buried, without insurance. Frozen stiff, and disjointed in
every limb. Why, I rode here in a dump-cart!"

"Let the girl sit down," interrupted Major Dale, who left his armchair to
welcome Tavia. "My, but you are cold! No, don't go too near the fire. Sit
here on the couch. Children, run off and fetch a hot drink," he added, for
he saw that Tavia was indeed too cold to be safe from possible harmful
consequences.

Tavia dropped into the offered seat, and then she saw Nat--in the light.

"Glory be!" she exclaimed, staring at his costume, which he had entirely
forgotten. "Is it the plumber?"

"Gas man!" sang out Roger gleefully. "We had just turned the meter on when
we heard your noise outside."

Nat was not proud, but he had not calculated on being in overalls when he
met Tavia. Ned nearly went in kinks at his brother's discomfiture. Dorothy
and Mrs. White had hurried off to fetch warm drinks for Tavia.

"You'll have to get up a 'visitor alarm,' I guess, Nat," said Joe, noting
Tavia's plight and Nat's embarrassment. "If we had heard the dump-cart on
the drive we would not have kept her so long out in the cold."

"That's right," answered Nat; "we will surely have to rig up something to
send signals from the gate."

"Like the coal office scales," suggested Roger. "When any one stepped on a
platform at the