d that a letter to follow would explain,
until the hour set for the charity performance, the girl was in one
continuous whirl of excitement.

Ned's accident did not prove to be as serious as had been feared, although
there was no possibility of him being about for several days, at least.

In the excitement and emergency Tavia had marshaled all her individual
forces, and proved herself worthy to be a friend and chum of Dorothy Dale.
With her change of heart--her resolution to "stick to Dorothy"--there
seemed to come to her a new power, or, at least, it was a return of the
power with which she had previously been accredited.

So the final work of preparation was accomplished, and now it seemed to be
merely a matter of raising and lowering the curtain.

The characters which Ned was to have impersonated were divided among the
other young men, it being necessary of course, to "double up" on three or
four parts. Agnes Sinclair openly deplored her loss of a partner, but the
others smiled incredulously when she said she preferred to play with Ned
and "hated that big bear, Tom Scott."

Tom made this his excuse for being particularly "grizzly" with the pretty
Agnes, and at the afternoon rehearsal he nearly went through the big gilt
picture frame, in which the illustrations were posed, when he attempted to
introduce a little impromptu "business" in "The Maiden all Forlorn."

Then when Roland attempted to do "There was a Man in Our Town," another of
Ned's parts, his efforts were so absurd and so utterly unlike what the
tableau was expected to be, that it was decided to make it "I Had a Little
Husband, no Bigger than my Thumb." Roland certainly looked diminutive
enough to fit into a pint pot, and also seemed qualified to do as he might
be told with the drum.

Finally all was arranged, or rearranged, and the hour for the play was
almost at hand.

No more delightful weather could have been wished for. It was clear and
cold, while outside a big silvery moon threw a fairy-like illumination
over the scene, and filtered in through the big windows of the
drawing-room of the home of Mrs. Justin Brownlie.

Dorothy laughed her light, happy laugh. After all, perhaps everything
would come out right--it was such a relief to feel that Ned would soon be
better. The worry about him was the very worst part of her troubles. Then,
suddenly, like the recurrence of an unpleasant dream, the thought of Tom's
midnight visit flashed before her mind