“A squire.”

“Oh, yes, that’s it.  Well, he has put two and two together, and has sent the last letter she wrote him out to a firm in Chicago, asking them to state clearly, and at once, what their business has been with his daughter, as he has reason to believe that it is because of this business that his daughter is worried about money and is trying to get it for some secret purpose.  You see, he has inferred that she is trying to get the money on account of her dealings with this firm.  The letters written to her show that.”

Dorothy tried to understand, but it was all very strange.  What sort of business dealings could be so dishonorable?

“And how can I help her?” she repeated.

“In one of two ways.  Either get ten dollars for her in some way that she may return the money to her parents if they have already sent it, or induce her to write at once to her father, telling him frankly all about the matter and stating that she does not now require the ten dollars.  She evidently wants that amount to pay some one who has lost on her account.”

Dorothy was amazed.  She could scarcely believe that Tavia would have gotten into any complex affair.  And that some one should lose money on her account!

“Could it be Nat?” was the thought flashed through her brain.  She had overheard some part of a conversation between Nat and Tavia, and now Tavia showed some ill-feeling toward Nat.

“Well, I must get along,” said Miss Brooks finally.  “I am glad I met you, and hope I have not given you too great a task.  Good-morning.”

Dorothy smiled and bowed, but her anxiety had promptly written the lines of care on her fair young face, and even the aged postmaster did not fail to ask her if anything was wrong at The Cedars when he handed her the mail.

Among the many letters was one for Tavia, and it bore the Dalton postmark.

CHAPTER XVII

SPRUCE BOUGHS AND LAUREL WREATHS

Mrs. Brownlie’s immense parlors were stripped of all movable furniture in preparation for the charity entertainment.

Strong linen crash covered the handsome carpets, and the camp stools to be used on the evening of the performance had already arrived.

That afternoon the Fire Bird brought the evergreens from The Cedars—­those which had been gathered some few days before and had since been stored carefully in the garage—­and an additional supply came from Ferndale, the result of an enterprising expedition to the woods, under the management of Miss Agnes Sinclair.

Besides a necessary rehearsal, the evening was to be spent in decorating for the play.  Mrs. White had requested every one to be on hand early, and now the young folks were arriving.

Little Mary Mahon was the first to come—­in accordance with Dorothy’s arrangements, for Mary was to rehearse her part before the others would get there, and just what her number would be was to be kept secret.