Ruth stooped to take off her skates at once.  “I’m really as hungry as a bear,” she confessed, “and a cup of your chocolate will be fine.”

When the girls entered the house Dorothy stopped short as she caught the sound of voices in the library.  She listened intently a second, then she frowned, put her finger on her lips, and grasping Ruth by the hand led her softly across the hall and up-stairs.  Not until they had reached the large room in the third story and had closed the door did she break the silence which enfolded them.

“For pity’s sake,” asked Ruth as she took off her coat and hat, “what is it and who is it?”

“Oh, it’s only Miss Cynthia,” answered Dolly carelessly.  “I didn’t want mother to know I’m in the house.”

“Who’s Miss Cynthia?” pursued Ruth with great curiosity, “and why don’t you want your mother to know?”

“Why, Miss Cynthia Atwood, of course.  Don’t you know her yet?  You’re fortunate, that’s all I can say.  She lives in that funny little house near the library, and she’s the last surviving member of one of the oldest families here.  I ought to know, for she’s told me times enough.”

“But why don’t you like her?” persisted Ruth, who was toasting herself in front of the open fire while Dorothy got out the materials for the chocolate.

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Dolly with a shrug.  “She’s tiresome and inquisitive, and she’s always coming round to make visitations on days when she ought not to be out, and then we girls or the boys have to see that she gets home safely.  I can’t help slipping out of her way whenever I can.”

“Well, you certainly slipped this time,” said Ruth with a laugh.  “I didn’t really know what was going to happen to me.  What a good-timey looking room this is, Dolly,” she went on, glancing about her.  “I always feel when I am up here as if I can’t go away until I’ve tried every one of these games.”

It was a huge room, rather bare of ornament except for the pictures Frank and Dorothy had put up, but wholly suggestive of good times, as Ruth had said.  Nothing was too good for use, and everything promised pleasure of the most wholesome kind.

“Father and mother like us to have our best times at home,” said Dolly sipping her chocolate with a critical air, “and Frank and I have had this room for a playroom ever since I can remember.”

“It must be fine to have a brother or sister,” said Ruth wistfully.  “I don’t think only children have half so much fun.”

“They miss some quarrels, too,” laughed Dolly.  “Poor old Frankie!  He’s splendid discipline for my temper, for he can be the most exasperating boy I ever saw.  I suppose I’m just as exasperating, though,” she added honestly.

“Is that four o’clock?” asked Ruth suddenly.  “Dear me, I must go, though I’d much rather stay here.  Your chocolate is great, Dolly, and those nice little wafers were perfect with it.”