I bought Christmas
presents."

The check called for fifteen dollars and was made out to bearer. Tavia
offered it to Dorothy, who did not take it.

Miss Brooks insisted upon going. She felt she had finished her business at
The Cedars.

Tavia drew Dorothy into the library as the door closed upon the visitors.
Her eyes were blazing, although her hands seemed cold as they touched
Dorothy's arm.

"You know I gambled," she stammered. "I deliberately bought a ticket in a
lottery."

"I know you made a mistake," insisted Dorothy. "I could never call that
gambling."

"Then take the check, if you are not afraid of it," went on Tavia. "Part
of it belongs to Nat--the other five is what I borrowed from you."

"Borrowed from me? Why, I gave you that--outright. It was my Christmas in
advance. Just jump into your things, and come down to send a telegram
home. Send them five dollars by wire--they will get it in the morning.
There is no present like the one that comes on Christmas morning, you
know."

"Dorothy!" exclaimed Tavia, "I can't oppose you this time. I know that
five dollars will make my father and my mother know that I--but it would
be deceiving them," she broke off. "I am not fit to even send the gift."

"Hurry! hurry!" begged Dorothy. "I want to send some Christmas greetings
by wire, and they will be too busy to take our messages if you wait
later."

Tavia threw her arms about Dorothy.

"You dear old nuisance!" she exclaimed. "I wonder you could not leave some
little thing for the angels to do to-morrow."

"Oh, I expect them to give me their undivided attention," declared
Dorothy. "I have had such a queer holiday up to this time that I have
simply asked for a great big lump of 'peace' in my stocking."

"You deserve it, Doro, dear," and Tavia, to hide the tears that would come
into her eyes, placed her arms about Dorothy and hid her face on her
shoulder.

Dorothy did get peace, and great happiness, too. Yet there were many
happenings still in store for her, and what some of them were will be told
in another book, to be called "Dorothy Dale's Camping Days." It was a
never-to-be-forgotten outing and one that produced some astonishing
results.

"And to-morrow is Christmas," said Dorothy softly. "I feel just like the
carol singers, when they used to chant: 'God rest you, merry
gentlemen--'"

"Only you're not a--" began Tavia, looking up.

"No, I'm not a gentleman, but I'm merry--quite happy now, and I certai