We couldn't possibly buy trees last week, because--they
would not be hand-picked. This week why can't we buy them and--hang the
handpicked," he finished. "Now, do you understand, little girl, that the
tree is to be in the near-infant ward in the hospital?"
"Oh, I suppose there's no use arguing," decided Dorothy. "I may as well
give in."
"May better. Hurry along, now. We're to have a buffet lunch, and get gone
directly after. It's time to eat now," and he glanced at his watch.
Certainly the morning had passed--and the afternoon would no doubt be
equally short. Dorothy hurried to get her warm wraps, called to Tavia, and
was at the lunch-table before Nat had returned from the garage, whence he
brought the Fire Bird.
"If you do not get caught in a snowstorm this time," commented Major Dale,
"I will begin to lose faith in my prophetic bones. They ache for heavy
snow."
"Put it off until to-morrow, Uncle Frank," advised Nat. "Then we may get
the runners out."
"No, it's not that long off," insisted the major, cringing perceptibly
under the aches and pains for the coming storm. "I shouldn't wonder but it
reached us by sundown."
Ned was much better, able to sit near the window and wave to the departing
ones.
Tavia looked almost happy. Somehow, since she determined to "stick to
Dorothy," much of her apparent trouble seemed to have disappeared.
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