"I am positive Tavia thinks I know all about it," concluded Dorothy, "and
I have just a mind to ask her outright. It would be so much easier than
beating about the bush this way."
"Doro! Doro!" screamed Roger at her door. "Come on! Get ready! We're going
out--for another--Christmas tree! Out to ghost park."
"I--can't!" called back his sister, but the next moment Nat was beside
her.
"Come on," he ordered, "get on your togs. We've got to get a hospital
tree. The ladies insist it shall be handpicked, and we've got to go to
Tanglewood Park."
"But do I really have to go?" begged Dorothy. "It's cold to ride, and I
wanted to--?"
"Put pink bows on red slippers! Oh, chuck it, Doro! I perfectly hate the
smell of Christmas. Tom and Roland are going, and so is Tavia."
He made a queer face as he said this--one of those indescribable boy
illustrations quite beyond interpretation.
"Is she?" asked Dorothy, not knowing anything better to say.
"And Tom and Roland, I repeat. We are going to duck the kiddies. Too cold
for little boys."
"Oh, then I shan't go," declared Dorothy. "We've been promising Joe and
Roger so long."
"But they don't want to go," insisted Nat. "Sammy Blake is launching his
iceboat."
"Oh, I suppose that is a superior attraction even to ghosts," said
Dorothy, laughing, "But why do we have to get a tree from the park?
Couldn't we buy one?"
"Just like a girl.
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