election of real old cheroot spruces."

"Yes," groaned Ned, "five miles away."

"I don't think it's very cold," ventured Dorothy.

"But the air is full of snow," announced Ned.

"Well, do we go to Tanglewood Park or back to The Cedars?" asked Ned.

"How long will it take to go to the Park?" questioned Dorothy.

"Oh, we may as well try it," concluded Ned, turning the Fire Bird in the
direction of the open road and starting off.

"Your haunted house, you know, Tavia," said Nat as they whizzed along.
"Now we will, have a chance to make the very intimate acquaintance of a
real, up-to-date ghost."

"Oh, is that the place?" said Tavia in surprise. "Well, I'll just be
tickled to death to pay a visit there. I have never quite made up my mind
whether the light was in the house or--"

"A halo around the head of old Bagley, your tongue-tied driver. Now, take
it from me, Tavia, it was simply the brilliancy of your own--"

"Oh, here, quit!" called Ned from the front seat. "If there is one thing I
like more than another on a day like this it isn't spooning."

"There's the snow!" announced Dorothy as some very large, lazy flakes
tumbled down into the laps of the party in the Fire Bird.

"Won't amount to much," Nat predicted. "Never does when it starts that
way. The larger the flakes the shorter the storm. Like a kid howling--the
louder he starts the sooner he quits."

"Well, that's worth knowing," said Tavia, laughing. "I won't feel so badly
next time the baby on my right starts in."

Meaning Nat, Tavia enjoyed her little joke, but the young man pretended
not to understand.

Lightly the Fire Bird flew along the hard road, and soon the tall trees of
old Tanglewood Park could be seen against the dull, dark landscape.

"We won't have time to get half a dozen trees, Doro," said Ned, "so if you
have it in mind to supply all the poor kids between here and Ferndale, as
you usually do, you had best cancel the contract."

"I did hope to get one for little Ben," confessed Dorothy. "He is always
so delighted when I tell him how things grow away out in the woods. Poor
little chap! Isn't it a pity he can never hope to be better?"

"It sure is," replied Ned, with more sympathy in his voice than in, his
words. "But I really think it will be dark very early this evening."

"Almost that now," put in Nat, who had been listening.

"Better for ghosts," declared Tavia. "I have always heard that no
respectable ghost ever comes out in