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Sign in. It is Christmas Eve. The little Ghastlys are not expecting Father Christmas to bring them presents because he never does. But Princess is determined that they shall hang up their stockings and is sure that this year he will come.

The Ghostly Ghastlys Book 2: Branwing

Princess doesn't know that the little Ghastlys haven't always been good, and maybe that is why Father Christmas never been before. When a baby reindeer falls off a sleigh, the little Ghastlys try their hardest to find Father Christmas to take the reindeer home. They even go to the North Pole to see if he is there, but of course, on Christmas Eve he is too busy to be at home. This is the sixth book in the series and the Ghastly family are now established at the Ghostly Ghastly House, which is popular with the visitors to the town.

Branwing and Princess are now married and back from their honeymoon, and the little Ghastlys are becoming fixit ghosts. Pooch Parsons. The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault. Charles Perrault. Peter Pan.

Minions: The Junior Novel. Sadie Chesterfield. Rapunzel: A Magic Beans Story. Jacqueline Wilson. Starrie Sky. Mark Twain Samuel Clemens. Big Nate: Pray for a Fire Drill. Lincoln Peirce. Shannon Hale. Grimm's Fairy Tales: all tales and 10 legends. Brothers Grimm. Dare to be Strong. Dale Mayer. The Scarlet Pimpernel Mobi Classics. Baroness Orczy. Grasping at Eternity. Previous page. Kindle Edition. Next page. Unlimited One-Day Delivery and more.

There's a problem loading this menu at the moment. Learn more about Amazon Prime. Books By Barbara Godwin. Get it by Saturday, Jul More Information. Anything else? Provide feedback about this page. Back to top. Get to Know Us. When the carriage comes just tap at the door and tell me, and I will rejoin my aunt. When the maid was gone, Betty locked her door. She lighted the candles beside the cheval-glass, and looked at herself in the mirror and laughed.

For the first time, with glad surprise and innocent pleasure, she realised how pretty she was. And pretty she was indeed, with her pleasant face, honest eyes, finely arched brows, and twinkling smile that produced dimples in her cheeks. I am dead sleepy now, and forty winks will set me up for the night. Then she laid herself upon the bed. A numbing, over-powering lethargy weighed on her, and almost at once she sank into a dreamless sleep.

So unconscious was she that she did not hear Martha's tap at the door nor the roll of the carriage as it took her aunt away. For some moments she did not realise this fact, nor that she was still dressed in the gown in which she had lain down the previous evening. I have slept so long and like a log, and never went to the ball. Why did you not call me? The maid smiled. The maid took up the satin dress. It was crumpled, the lace was a little torn, and the train showed unmistakable signs of having been drawn over a floor.

Why, deary me! It is quite full. Betty looked at the programme with dazed eyes; then at the camellia. It had lost some of its petals, and these had not fallen on the toilet-cover. Where were they?

What was the meaning of this? Betty was sorely perplexed. There were evidences that her dress had been worn. The pearl necklace was in the case, but not as she had left it—outside. She bathed her head in cold water. She racked her brain. She could not recall the smallest particular of the ball. She perused the programme. A light colour came into her cheek as she recognised the initials "C.

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Other characters expressed nothing to her mind. I cannot explain it. Twenty minutes later, Betty went downstairs and entered the breakfast-room. Lady Lacy was there.

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She went up to her aunt and kissed her. After a first ball you must be tired. But you gave the lion's share of the dances to Captain Fontanel. If this had been at Exeter, it would have caused talk; but here you are known only to a few; however, Lady Belgrove observed it. I like to go to a ball; it recalls my old dancing days.

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But I thought you looked white and fagged all the evening. Perhaps it was excitement. As soon as breakfast was concluded, Betty escaped to her room. A fear was oppressing her. The only explanation of the mystery was that she had been to the dance in her sleep.

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She was a somnambulist. What had she said and done when unconscious? What a dreadful thing it would have been had she woke up in the middle of a dance! She must have dressed herself, gone to Lady Belgrove's, danced all night, returned, taken off her dress, put on her afternoon tea-gown, lain down and concluded her sleep—all in one long tract of unconsciousness. You would like to go?