LITMIR.BIZ

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momsey would devote her charity to her poor little son,” said the young man, drily. “He is the one who needs it most!”

      “Never mind, dear,” and Dorothy put her arms around him, “you shall have a dolly, too.”

      “Here’s Ned,” he interrupted, “I wonder if he got my skates sharpened? I asked him, but I’ll wager he forgot.”

      The other brother, a few years Nat’s senior, pulled off his furlined coat, and entered the library, where the cousins were chatting.

      “Getting colder every minute,” he declared. “We had better take the cutter out to Sanders’s – that is, if Doro insists upon going.”

      “Of course I do,” Dorothy cried. “I wouldn’t disappoint little Emily for anything. Funny how you boys have suddenly taken a dislike to going out there.”

      “Now don’t get peevish,” teased Ned. “We will take you, Coz, if we freeze by the wayside.”

      “Did you get my skates?” Nat asked.

      “Not done,” the brother replied. “Old Tom is busy enough for ten grinders. Expect we will have a fine race.”

      “And I can’t get in shape. Well, I wish I had taken them out to Wakefield’s. He would have had them done days ago. But if we are going to Sanders’s, better get started. I’ll call William to put the cutter up.”

      “Here come Ted and Mabel now. They’re sleighing, too,” exclaimed Dorothy. “Won’t we have a jolly party!”

      “That’s a neat little cutter,” remarked Ned, glancing out of the window. “And Mabel does look pretty in a red – what do you call that Scotch cap?”

      “Tam o’Shanter,” Dorothy helped out. “Yes, it is very becoming. But Neddie, dear?” and her voice questioned.

      “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied indifferently. “Mabel was always kind of – witchy. I like that type.”

      “And Ted is – so considerate,” Dorothy added with a mock sigh. “I do wonder how Bob and Tavia are getting along?”

      “Probably planning suicide by this time – I say planning, you know, not executing. It would be so nice for a boy as good as Bob to be coerced into some wild prank by the wily Tavia.”

      “She did not happen, however, to lead you into any,” retorted Dorothy, “and I take it you are a ‘good boy’.”

      “Oh, but how hard she tried,” and he feigned regret. “Tavia would have taught me to feed out of her hand, had I not been – so well brought up.”

      This bantering occupied the moments between the time Ted’s sleigh glided into view, and its arrival at the door of the Cedars.

      “’Lo, ’lo!” exclaimed Mabel, her cheeks matching the scarlet of her Tam o’Shanter.

      “Low, low! Sweet and Low!” responded Nat. “Also so low!”

      “No – but Milo!” said Ned, with a complimentary look at Mabel. “The Venus mended.”

      “‘High low,’” went on Ted. “That’s what it is. A high – low and the game! To go out there to-night in this freeze!”

      “Strange thing,” Dorothy murmured, “how young men freeze up – sort of antagonistic convulsion.”

      “Oh, come on,” drawled Ned, “when a girl wills, she will – and there’s an end on it.”

      It did not take the girls long to comply – Dorothy was out with Ted, Mabel, Nat and Ned before the boys had a chance to relent.

      “Those bundles?” questioned Ted, as Dorothy surrounded herself with the things for Emily.

      “Now did you ever!” exclaimed Dorothy. “It seems to me everything is displeasing to-day.”

      “No offence, I’m sure,” Ted hastened to correct, “but the fact is – we boys had a sort of good time framed up for this afternoon. Not but what we are delighted to be of service – ”

      “Why didn’t you say so?” Dorothy asked.

      It seemed for the moment that the girls and boys were not to get along in their usual pleasant manner. But the wonderful sleighing, and the delightful afternoon, soon obliterated the threatening difficulties, and a happy, laughing party in each cutter glided over the road, now evenly packed with mid-winter snow.

      The small boys along the way occasionally stole a ride on the back runners of the sleighs, or “got a hitch” with sled or bob, thus saving the walk up hill or the jaunt to the ice pond.

      “Oh, there’s Dr. Gray!” Dorothy exclaimed suddenly as a gentleman in fur coat and cap was seen hurrying along. “I wonder why he is walking?”

      “For his health, likely,” Ted answered. “Doctors know the sort of medicine to take for their own constitutions.”

      By this time they were abreast of the physician. Dorothy called out to him:

      “Where’s your horse, Doctor?”

      “Laid up,” replied the medical man, with a polite greeting. “He slipped yesterday – ”

      “Going far?” Ted interrupted, drawing his horse up.

      “Out to Sanders’s,” replied the doctor.

      “Sanders’s!” repeated Dorothy. “That’s where we’re going. Who’s sick?”

      “The baby,” replied the doctor, “and they asked me to hurry.”

      “Get in with us,” Ted invited, while Dorothy almost gasped. Little Emily sick! She could scarcely believe it.

      Dr. Gray gladly accepted the invitation to ride, and the next cutter with Ned, Nat and Mabel, pulled up along side of Ted’s.

      “You may as well turn back,” Dorothy told them. Then she explained that little Emily was sick, and likely would not want her Christmas tree trimmed.

      “But I’ll go along,” she said, “I may be able to help, for her mother is sick, even if she is with her.”

      After all her preparations, it was a great disappointment to think the child could not enjoy the gifts. Dr. Gray told her, however, that Emily was subject to croup, and that perhaps the spell would not last.

      At the house they found everything in confusion. Emily’s sick mother coughed harder at every attempt she made to help the little one, while Mr. Sanders, the child’s grandfather, tried vainly to get water hot on a lukewarm stove.

      “Pretty bad, Doc,” he said with a groan, “thought she’d choke to death last night.”

      Without waiting to be directed, Dorothy threw aside her heavy coat, drew off her gloves, and was breaking bits of wood in her hands, to hurry the kettle that, being watched, had absolutely refused to boil.

      “You can just put that oil on to heat, Miss Dale,” Dr. Gray said, he having bidden the sick woman to keep away from Emily. “We’ll rub her up well with warm oil, and see if we can loosen up that congestion.”

      Emily lay on the uneven sofa, her cheeks burning, and her breath jerking in struggles and coughs.

      Dorothy found a pan and had the oil hot before the doctor was ready to use it.

      “Quite a nurse,” he said, in that pleasant way the country doctor is accustomed to use. “Glad I happened to meet you.”

      “I’m glad, too,” Dorothy replied sincerely. “Never mind, Emily, you will have your Christmas tree, as soon as we get the naughty cold cured,” she told the child.

      Emily’s eyes brightened a little. The tree still stood in a corner of the room. Outside, Ted was driving up and down the road in evident impatience, but Dorothy was too busy to notice him.

      Soon the hot applications took effect, and Emily breathed more freely and regularly. Then the doctor attended to the other patient – the mother. It was a

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