“Mother told me to ask you both over this evening to help fix up the play business,” said Ned, “if you have nothing else on.”

“Gladly,” replied Tom.  “I was just hinting for an invitation.  You know how I love classics—­Mother Goose will be just pie for me.”

“Oh, I forgot,” exclaimed Tavia suddenly.  “I have an engagement for this afternoon.  I ought to go back, Ned.  It must be lunch-time.”  And, as she spoke, Dorothy remembered that the day was Thursday, and that Tavia was to go on that day to see Miss Estelle Brooks, the little woman in black.

CHAPTER XIV

TAVIA’S TROUBLES

“You must contrive to help me, Nat,” urged Tavia, when, an hour or so later, she managed to get a word alone with him.  “I can never deliberately go off alone on an afternoon like this, when every one is so busy.”

“You certainly cannot walk out to Ferndale on a day like this,” answered Nat.  “I’ll have to take you if you must go.  But why don’t you wait until next week, when we might get a better chance?”

“Oh, I simply can’t,” sighed Tavia.  “I feel so mean over the whole thing.  And, honestly, I’m so nervous about it.  Do you suppose that woman has anything to do with—­the matter?”

“Seems to understand it, at any rate.  It won’t do any harm to talk with her.  I’ll manage to get the machine out, and then, all in a flash, you ask if I won’t take you, pretending you did not plan it.  I don’t see any other way out of it.”

“Oh, Nat, you are a dear!” exclaimed Tavia in real joy.  “But I do hate so to get you into trouble.”

“Oh, never mind me,” replied the youth good-naturedly.  “Guess I’m big enough to take care of myself.  Clear off, now, and when you hear three toots you will know that is the signal.  I’ll get ready under pretense of going into town for something, and it won’t take long to get out to Ferndale.”

Tavia ran back to where Dorothy and Mrs. White were busy putting bows of bright ribbon on gifts, and sealing up parcels with the Merry Christmas stamps.  Her cheeks were blazing and her eyes dancing from pent-up nervous strain.  She grew more nervous each moment.  Surely Dorothy would notice it, she thought.  And then, too, Dorothy had told her Miss Brooks had asked to see her on Thursday.  Would she remember that now?

Tavia picked up the unfinished darning bag, but her fingers trembled so she could scarcely thread her needle.  Mrs. White glanced up from her work.

“You have had a lot of trouble with that bag, Tavia, dear,” she said, “I guess you don’t like lining things.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it at all,” stammered Tavia, “but, you see, I have had no practice.  I’ll know how better next time.”

She fancied she heard Nat coming along the drive.  Yes, surely that was the machine.  She waited for the toots.  Her thimble rolled to the floor.  Then her thread tangled.