Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School

"I certainly would not do anything that would bring trouble on you," reflected Dorothy aloud, "especially if that might worry your poor, sick mother."

"Oh, you darling! I knew you would promise. Now, no matter what Mrs. Pangborn says, promise you will not do more than admit you took the ride – be sure not to say why you took it!"

Dorothy was not suspicious by nature, else she would have seen through the thin veil that hung between Viola and that word "promise." She was using it too frequently for good taste, but she wanted and insisted on getting a real, absolute Promise.

"But it might be rude for me to refuse to tell why we were in the wagon, and at the same time to say we were in it."

"Rude!" echoed Viola. "What small account that would be compared to my dismissal from school."

Dorothy tried to think – just as Viola had planned, she was not able to reason it all out clearly – it was too complicated. The night was getting old, it was ten o'clock and every Glenwood girl was expected to be sleeping honestly, but these two were still far from reaching a satisfactory settlement of their difficulty.

"One thing is certain, Viola," said Dorothy firmly, "I cannot and will not do anything that would seem disrespectful to Mrs. Pangborn. Not only is she a grand, sweet woman, a kind, just teacher, but she was my mother's friend and is still my father's friend. So that it would be impossible for me to do, or say, anything rude to her!"

This was a declaration of principles at last. And Viola for the moment seemed beaten. But girls of her type have more than one loophole in such an emergency.

"I had no idea of asking you to do anything unlady-like," she said with a show of indignation. "It was you who made use of that word. I merely asked that you would, if possible, not make known to Mrs. Pangborn the details of the story. Of course I was foolish to think you would care about their effect upon me, or my dying mother."

Viola rose to leave. Tears were in her eyes and she did look forlorn.

"I will do all I can to save you," Dorothy assured her, "and if I can avoid the story, without being impertinent, I promise to do so."

"Oh, bless you, Dorothy Dale!" exclaimed the now truly miserable girl. "I am sure, then, that it will be all right. When you make a promise you know how to keep it!" and before Dorothy could say another word her visitor was gone.

CHAPTER XIX

THE TANGLED WEB

What happened that night seemed like a dream to Dorothy. Accustomed to think of others and to forget herself, she pondered long and earnestly over the grief that Viola had shown. Surely there was some strange influence between mother and daughter. Dorothy remembered the looks akin to adoration that Mrs. Green continually gave her daughter that day in the train. Viola had certainly done an imprudent thing in telling the story, Dorothy had no idea it was more than imprudent; neither did she know how seriously that act had affected herself. Even now, as she tried to grasp the entire situation, it never occurred to her that this was the story that stood between her and the friendship of the Glenwood girls. For the time that unpleasant affair was almost forgotten – this new problem was enough to wrestle with.

Early the next morning Mrs. Pangborn sent for Dorothy. The president's appearance immediately struck the girl as different; she was in mourning.

"I hope you have not lost a dear friend," said Dorothy, impulsively, before Mrs. Pangborn had addressed her.

"Yes, Dorothy," she replied, "I have – lost my father."

There was no show of emotion, but the girl saw that no grief could be keener.

"I am so sorry," said Dorothy.

"Yes, my dear, I am sure you are. And your father knew him well. They were very old friends."

"I have heard him speak of Mr. Stevens."

"Yes, I suppose you have. Well, his troubles are over, I hope. But, Dorothy, I sent to ask you about that story some of the young ladies have been circulating about you. Of course it is all nonsense – "

"What story have you reference to, Mrs. Pangborn?"

"You must have heard it. That you and Octavia were seen getting out of a police patrol wagon in Dalton. It is absurd, of course."

"But we did ride in a patrol wagon, Mrs. Pangborn," answered Dorothy, trying hard to keep Viola's tearful face before her mind, to guide her in her statements.

"How foolish, child. It might have been a joke – Tell me about it!"

"If you would excuse me, Mrs. Pangborn, and not think me rude, I would rather not," said Dorothy, her cheeks aflame.

"Not tell me!" and the lady raised her eyebrows. "Why, Dorothy! Is there any good reason why you do not wish to tell me?"

"Yes, I have made a promise. It may not be of much account, but, if you will excuse me, it would relieve me greatly not to go over it."

Mrs. Pangborn did not answer at once. For a girl to admit she had ridden in a police van and for that girl to be Dorothy Dale! It seemed incredible.

"Dorothy," she began, gravely, "whatever may be back of this, I am sure you have not been at fault – seriously at least. And since you prefer not to make me your confidant I cannot force you to do so. I am sorry. I had expected something different. The young ladies will scarcely make apologies to you under the circumstances."

She made a motion as if to dismiss Dorothy. Plainly the head of Glenwood School could not be expected to plead with a pupil – certainly not to-day, when her new and poignant grief could not be hidden.

"I shall say to the young ladies," said the teacher, finally, "that they are to show you all the respect they had shown you heretofore. That you have done nothing to be ashamed of – I am sure of this, although you make the matter so mysterious. I would like to have compelled the girl who spread this report to make amends, but I cannot do that. You do not deny her story."

At that moment Dorothy saw, or at least guessed, what it all meant. That had been the story of her trouble! It was that which made the girls turn their backs on her – that which had almost broken her heart. And now she had put it out of her power to contradict their charges!

Mrs. Pangborn had said "good morning," Dorothy was alone in the corridor. She had left the office and could not now turn back!

Oh, why had she been so easily deceived? Why had Viola made her give that promise? Surely it must have been more than that! The story, to cause all the girls to shun her! And perhaps Mrs. Pangborn believed it all! No, she had refused to believe it. But what should Dorothy do now?

Oh, what a wretched girl she was! How much it had cost her to lose Tavia! Tavia would have righted this wrong long ago. But now she stood alone! She could not even speak of leaving the school without strengthening the cruel suspicion, whatever it might be.

What would she do? To whom would she turn?

Heart-sick, and all but ill, Dorothy turned into her lonely little room. She would not attempt to go to classes that morning.

CHAPTER XX

SUSPICIONS

"What did she say?" eagerly asked a knot of girls, as Viola Green made her appearance the morning after her interview with the head of Glenwood school.

"Humph!" sniffed Viola, "what could she say?"

"Did she send for Dorothy?" went on the curious ones.

"I have just seen her step out of the office this minute and she couldn't see me. Her eyes wouldn't let her."

"Then she didn't deny it!" spoke Amy Brook. "I could scarcely make myself believe that of her."

"Ask her about it, then," suggested Viola, to whom the term brazen would seem, at that moment, to be most applicable.

"Oh, excuse me," returned Amy. "I never wound where I can avoid it. The most polite way always turns out the most satisfactory."

"And do you suppose she is going to leave school?" asked Nita Brant, timidly, as if afraid of her own voice in the matter.

"She told me so last night," said Viola, meekly. "I don't blame her."

"No," said a girl with deep blue eyes, and a baby chin, "I do not see how any girl could stand such cuts, and Dorothy seemed such a sweet girl."

"Better go and hug her now," sneered Viola, "I fancy you will find her rolled up in bed, with her red nose, dying for air."

"It is the strangest thing – " demurred Amy.

"Not at all," insisted Viola, "all sweet girls have two sides to their characters. But I am sick of the whole thing. Let's drop it."

"And take up Dorothy again?" eagerly asked Nita.

"Oh, just as you like about that. If you want to associate with girls who ride in police wagons – "

"Well, I do want to!" declared Nita, suddenly. "And I don't believe one word against Dorothy Dale. It must be some mistake. I will ask her about it myself."

"If you wish to spare her you will do nothing of the kind," said Viola. "I tell you it is absolutely true. That she has just this minute admitted it to Mrs. Pangborn. Don't you think if it were a mistake I would have to correct it, when the thing has now been thoroughly investigated?"

It was plain that many of the girls were apt to take Nita's view. They had given the thing a chance to develop, and they were satisfied now that a mistake had been made somewhere. Of course the clever turns made by Viola, kept "the ball rolling."

"There's the bell!" announced Amy, reluctantly leaving the discussion unfinished. This was the signal for laying aside all topics other than those relative to the curriculum of Glenwood, and, as the girls filed into the chapel for prayers, more than one missed Dorothy, her first morning to absent herself from the exercise.

Miss Higley was in charge, Mrs. Pangborn also being out of her accustomed place.

Directly after the short devotions there was whispering.

"Young ladies!" called the teacher, in a voice unusually severe, "you must attend strictly to your work. There has been enough lax discipline in Glenwood recently. I will have no more of it."

"Humph!" sniffed Viola, aside, "since when did she buy the school!"

Miss Higley's eyes were fastened upon her. But Viola's recent experiences had the effect of making her reckless – she felt quite immune to punishment now.

"Attend to your work, Miss Green!" called Miss Higley.

"Attend to your own," answered Viola under her breath, but the teacher saw that she had spoken, and knew that the remark was not a polite one.

"What did you say?" asked the teacher.

"Nothing," retorted Viola, still using a rude tone.

"You certainly answered me, and I insist upon knowing what you said."

Viola was silent now, but her eyes spoke volumes.

"Will you please repeat that remark?" insisted Miss Higley.

"No," said Viola, sharply, "I will not!"

Miss Higley's ruddy face flashed a deep red. To have a pupil openly defy a teacher is beyond the forgiveness of many women less aggressive than Miss Higley.

"You had better leave the room," she said – "take your books with you."

"I won't require them," snapped Viola, intending to give out the impression that she would leave school if she were to be treated in that manner by Miss Higley.

"Get at your work, young ladies," finished the teacher, fastening her eyes on her own books, and thus avoiding anything further with Viola.

To reach her room Viola was obliged to pass Dorothy's. Just as she came up to number nineteen Dorothy opened the door. Her eyes were red from weeping, and she looked very unhappy indeed.

"Oh, do come in Viola," she said, surprised to see the girl before her. "I was going to you directly after class – I did not know you were out."

"I cannot come now," answered Viola. "I must go to my room!"

"Is there anything the matter?" inquired Dorothy, kindly.

"Yes," replied Viola, using her regular tactics, that of forcing Dorothy to make her own conclusions.

"Is your mother worse?"

"I, oh – my head aches so. You must excuse me Dorothy," and at this Viola burst into tears, another ruse that always worked well with the sympathetic Dorothy.

The fact was Dorothy had spent a very miserable hour that morning, after her talk with the president, and she had finally decided to put the whole thing to Viola, to ask her for a straight-forward explanation, and to oblige her to give it. But now Viola was in trouble – Dorothy had no idea that the trouble was a matter of temper, and of course her mother must be worse, thought Dorothy. How glad she was, after all, that she did make the sacrifice! It was much easier for her to stand it than to crush Viola with any more grief!

Crush her indeed! It takes more than the mere words of a just school teacher and more than the pale face of a persecuted girl to crush such a character as that which Viola Green was lately cultivating.

And as Viola turned into her room she determined never to apologize to Miss Higley. She would leave Glenwood first.

Meanwhile what different sentiments were struggling in Dorothy's heart? She had bathed her face, and would go into the classroom. She might be in time for some work, and now there was no use in wasting time over the trouble. She would never mention it to Viola, that poor girl had enough to worry her. Neither would she try to right it in any way. After all, Mrs. Pangborn believed in her, so did Edna and Molly, and a letter from home that morning told of the recovery of Tavia's mother. Perhaps Tavia would be back to school soon. It might be hard to meet the scornful looks of the other girls, but it could not possibly be as hard as what Viola had to bear.

So thought our dear Little Captain, she who was ever ready to take upon her young and frail shoulders the burdens of others.

But such virtue plainly has its own reward – Dorothy Dale entered the classroom at eleven o'clock that morning, with peace in her heart. Viola Green was out of the school room and was fighting the greatest enemies of her life – Pride, mingled with Jealousy.

It had been that from the first, from the very first moment she set her eyes on Dorothy Dale, whose beautiful face was then framed in the ominous black lining of the police patrol.

It had been jealousy ever since. Dorothy had made friends with the best girls in Glenwood, she had been taken up by the teachers, she had been given the best part in the play (but Viola could not stand that) and now that the play had been abandoned on account of the death of Mrs. Panghorn's father, and that Dorothy had been disgraced, what more did Viola crave?

Was not her vengeance complete?

But the girls were beginning to doubt the story, and those who did not actually disbelieve it were tiring of its phases. The promised excitement did not develop. All the plans of the Rebs were dead, and to be a member of that party did not mean happiness, – it meant actual danger of discipline.

Viola was too shrewd not to notice all this, and to realize that her clientele was falling off alarmingly.

Would she really leave Glenwood? The wrong done Dorothy seemed to be righting itself in spite of all her devices, and that girl, disgraced though she stood in the eyes of many, seemed happier at the moment than Viola herself.

"I wish I had gone home when I had father's last letter," reflected the girl, looking in her mirror at the traces of grief that insisted on setting their stamp upon her olive face. "But now, of course that old cat Higley will make a fuss – Oh, I wish I never had seen these cracked walls. I wish I had gone to a fashionable school – "

She stopped suddenly. Why not get away now to that swell school near Boston? She could surely set aside her mother's foolish sentiment about Glenwood, – just because she had met Mrs. Pangborn abroad and had become interested in this particular school for girls.

Viola had enough of it. She would leave – go home. And then perhaps – she might get to the Beaumonde Academy.

CHAPTER XXI

SUNSHINE AGAIN

A sense of suppressed excitement greeted Dorothy as she entered the classroom. Edna and Molly managed to greet her personally with a pleasant little nod, and even Miss Higley raised her eyes to say good morning.

Certainly Dorothy felt heroic – and she had good reason. Having suffered so long from a mysterious insult, she now had fortified herself against its stigma.

At the same time she was conscious of an awful weight hanging over her head – like the gloom of those who suffer without hope.

"She just looks like a sweet nun," whispered Ned to Amy.

"Doesn't she," agreed Amy. "I wish we could make her smile."

But Dorothy buried herself in her studies, with a determination born of perfect self-control.

The morning wore into mid-day, then the recreation hour brought relaxation from all mental effort. A number of the girls who had been at first conspicuous figures in the Rebs made a particular effort to speak to Dorothy. She met their advances pleasantly, but with some hesitancy – they might only mean to make an opportunity for further trouble, Dorothy thought.

"See here!" called Edna, running along the walk after Dorothy. "Have you taken the black veil? Not that such a vocation is to be made light of," seeing a frown come over Dorothy's face, "but you know we cannot spare you just yet. You may be the dear little nun of Glenwood, but you will have to keep up with the Glens and the Nicks. We are planning a reunion, you know."

"Yes, and we are going to give a play on our own account," said Molly, coming up at that moment. "Mrs. Pangborn has granted permission and we are about to select the operetta – it will be a musical affair this time."

"That ought to be lovely," responded Dorothy. "There are so many fine players among the girls."

"Yes, and you can sing," declared Molly. "We are counting on you for our prima donna."

"Oh, and we might have Viola accompany her on the violin! Wouldn't that be divine!" enthused a girl from Portland.

A hush followed this suggestion. It was the awkward kind that actually sounds louder than a yell of surprise.

"What is it?" asked Rose-Mary, joining the group and giving Dorothy a hug "on the half shell," which in the parlance of schoolgirls means a spontaneous fling of the arms around the one on the defensive.

"Cologne will be sure to suggest something from English Lit." predicted Molly. "She being a star in that line herself thinks the stuff equally pie for all of us. We might try French – I said 'try,' Ned Ebony; you need not strangle yourself with that gasp!"

"Came near it," admitted the one with her mouth open. "Fancy us doing French!"

"Then suppose we go back to the woods – try Red Riding Hood?"

"Fine and dandy!" exclaimed Nita Brant. "I'll be the wolf."

"Because he was the only party who got in on the eating," remarked Edna. "Let me be the squire – and don't all speak at once for the grandmother's fate."

"Think it over girls; think it over!" advised Nita. "Back to the woods might not suit some of our rural friends. For my part I prefer – ahem! Something tragic!"

"Beat Red Riding Hood for tragedy then," challenged one of the group. "Of all the atrocities – "

"And desperate deals – "

"To say nothing of the grandmother's night cap going in the mix up – "

And so they laughed it all off, and marveled that the mere mention of the old story should awaken such comment.

Dorothy seemed to enjoy the innocent sallies. It was pleasant to be with the jolly crowd again, and to feel something akin to the old happiness.

"What happened to Fiddle?" asked Amy Brook. "I thought she would come back to class when her pout wore off."

"Pout?" repeated Dorothy. "I met her in the hall and she seemed to be in great distress."

"Shouldn't wonder," remarked Nita. "Any one who crosses swords with Miss Higley is bound to come to grief sooner or later. If I had been Fiddle I should have apologized at once – easiest way out of it with Higley."

Dorothy was confused. She had no idea of the scene that had taken place in the schoolroom that morning between Miss Higley and Viola. But as it was impossible for her to keep up with the run of school events lately, she ventured no more questions.

"When's Chrissy coming back?" asked Edna. "I'm almost dead without her. Haven't had a single scrap since she went. And I've got the greatest lot corked up ready to explode from spontaneous combustion."

"I hope she'll be back before the end of this term," answered Dorothy. "I heard to-day her mother is entirely recovered."

"Good for the mother! Also more power to her. I think I'll crawl up the skylight and do perfectly reckless stunts on the roof when Chrissy returns just to celebrate," and suiting her words with the jubilant mood the girl waltzed away down the path, making queer "jabs" at the inoffensive air that was doing its best to make life bright and pleasant for the girls at Glenwood.

CHAPTER XXII

MISS CRANE AND VIOLA

Viola Green was thoroughly upset. She had quarreled with Miss Higley. She had more than quarreled with Dorothy. Mrs. Pangborn had told her plainly that if her story concerning Dorothy was found to be untrue she would have to leave Glenwood, for that story had touched on the fair name of a pupil of the school, to say nothing more. Having defamed the honored name of Dale made the matter of still greater importance.

What should she do? To leave Glenwood seemed to be the only answer to that oft-repeated question. But to get into Beaumonde required a clean record from the former academy, and would Mrs. Pangborn furnish such a record under the circumstances?

It was evening, and the other girls were probably enjoying themselves, visiting about and settling wherever there was the best prospect of fudge – the only confection students were allowed to make in their rooms.

But Viola would not go out, she was in no humor for visiting. While reclining on her small white bed, thinking the situation over until her head ached from very monotony, a note was slipped under her door. She saw it instantly but did not at once attempt to pick it up – the sender might be waiting outside and notice her readiness to become acquainted with the contents.

Hearing the light step make its way down the hall Viola took and opened the note.

"Humph!" she sniffed, "from Adele Thomas." Then she glanced over the note. It read:

MY DEAR VIOLA:

We are all so worried about you. Do please come out of your room or let some of us in. We wish very much to talk to you, but if you persist in keeping us at bay won't you please make up your mind to apologize at once to Miss Higley? There are so many counts against us this month that the latest is positively dangerous in its present form. Do Viola, dear, answer, and tell us you feel better and that you will comply with the request of the committee. Lovingly yours,

LOWLY.

"Apologize!" echoed the girl. "As if my mother's daughter could ever stoop to that weak American method of crawling out of things!" and her dark eyes flashed while her olive face became as intense as if the girl were a desperate woman.

"Don't they know that the blood of the de Carlos flows in my veins?" she asked herself. "No, that's so, they do not know it – nor shall they. Let them think me Italian, French or whatever they choose – but let them not trifle with Spain. Ah, Spain! and how I have longed to see that beautiful country with mother – darling mother!"

This thought of affection never failed to soften the temper of the wily Viola. True she had seen fit always to hide her mother's nationality from the schoolgirls. Often they had questioned her about her foreign face and manners, but like many who do not admire the frankness of Americans, it had pleased her to remain simply "foreign."

A supercilious smile crept over Viola's face. She held Adele's note in her hand and read it again.

"Worried about me!" she repeated, "as if they care for anything but excitement and nonsense. And they are aching for me to give the next spasm of excitement! Well, they may get that, sooner than they expect."

A step stopped at her door. Then a light tap sounded on the panel. Casting aside the note, Viola opened the portal and was confronted by Miss Crane. Without waiting for an invitation the pleasant little woman stepped inside.

"Good evening, Viola," she began. "Mrs. Pangborn sent me to have a talk with you."

"Yes?" replied Viola, in her most non-committal tone.

"She has been much worried of late, so many things have been going on that did not add to her peace of mind."