Dorothy’s last clear thought was:  “To-morrow something must happen to make it all right, for to-morrow is the day before Christmas.”

The sun was streaming in her window when she opened her eyes.  She jumped up with a start, for she was to get an early train, go first to the hospital, then search out the wretched Miss Dearing.

“I could never be happy on Christmas, and think perhaps she might be starving.  When I find her I will—­ But how can I tell what I may have to do?”

Hurriedly she partook of breakfast and jumped into the depot cart that Nat had driven up to the door.

“Take care that Tavia does not worry,” Dorothy cautioned the young man.  “I know she has a trouble, and I am sure somehow it will be all adjusted by to-night.  I depend upon the witches of Christmas Eve.”

Nat laughed and assured her he “would keep track of Tavia.”  Then the train steamed in, and Dorothy was gone.

“Suppose she fails to meet me,” mused the girl, whose very red cheeks were the source of some remarks from a lady in the opposite seat.

Dorothy always looked pretty, but she looked charming when the clear red blood rose to her cheeks and made her deep blue eyes flash like stars, actually ignited with the torch of anticipation.

“But I am sure she will be there.  Miss Pumfret is the sort of woman I should think would never break her word.”

Nor was she disappointed in her estimate; Jane Pumfret waited—­even had a cab ready to drive with Dorothy to the hospital, there to see the new patient, Captain Nick Mayberry.

“Perhaps I had better go first and prepare him,” suggested Dorothy as they reached the door of the private room and saw the one spotless bed—­the gift of the young ladies’ auxiliary.

“No need, dear,” objected Miss Pumfret.  “Now that I’ve made up my mind to it I actually can’t wait.”

The next moment Dorothy drew back to allow brother and sister their own happy moment—­Jane Pumfret had the old white-haired man in her arms, was embracing him like a child, and the nurse smiled in complete satisfaction as she, too, stepped aside with Dorothy.

“That is all he wants,” she said, “He has worried constantly, and I was so afraid she would not come—­I know Miss Pumfret.”

Just then the telephone rang.  The nurse picked up the receiver.  She listened to the call from the office.  Then she answered: 

“I’m awfully sorry, but I cannot see how we can take her.  We haven’t a single public bed unoccupied.”

She waited a moment, then resumed:  “Poor thing.  I hate to have you turn her away, but what can we do?”

“A bed,” thought Dorothy.  “Why, of course, Miss Pumfret will provide a private one for her brother, and perhaps—­”

But she did not wait to think further.

“Nurse,” she interrupted, her voice carrying through the ’phone, “perhaps that patient could have our bed.  Captain Mayberry is to go to the private wing.”