Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School Part 24

"When?" gasped Viola. Then to hide the joy that Dorothy's words brought her, she continued, "Do you have to go? Is someone ill?"

"No, not at home. But I am afraid I'll be ill if I do not stop this worrying," and Dorothy indeed looked very pale and miserable. Even Viola could not help noticing that.

"I wouldn't blame you," spoke Viola. "It's dreadful to be homesick."

"But I am not homesick," replied Dorothy. "I would not allow that feeling to conquer me when I know what it meant for father to let me come here. I must make good use of my time, and not be foolish. But no matter how I try to be happy, it seems useless. And I know I am not strong enough to keep that up. So," and Dorothy sighed heavily, leaning her head against the blanket that covered the foot of her bed, "I feel I must go away!"

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She loved Glenwood and could not bear the thought of leaving the school which had been so pleasant before Tavia went, and before that awful afternoon in the hall.

"What I really wanted to ask you, Dorothy, is about that story."

"What story?"

"You are not listening to me, Dorothy, and I am just as miserable as I can be. Do tell me you will do what I ask."

"I certainly was listening, and I am sorry you are miserable. But what is it you want me to do?"

Viola decided instantly upon a bold strike. She would make her demand and then follow it up so closely Dorothy would not know just what she was giving her promise to.

"Mrs. Pangborn sent for me to-night, and gave me such a dreadful scolding, I just cried myself sick," said Viola, "and now when she sends for you, and asks you about that ride, I want you to promise you will not deny it!"

"Certainly I shall not deny it! Why should I?"

"Then, if she wants to know what it is all about, just don't give her any more information. Say you did ride in the patrol wagon and that I had not told a lie. She actually said she would dismiss me if--if you said I had told what was not true. And oh, Dorothy! You know that would kill mother! Just as sure as a shot from a gun would kill her, my dismissal from Glenwood would do it!"

"But why should you be dismissed? If you only told the story in fun, and it has done no harm--"

"Of course that's exactly the way to look at it. But I'm so afraid Mrs. Pangborn will take another view of it. Promise me, Dorothy! Oh, please promise me!" and Viola actually knelt before the girl on the bedside. "When Mrs. Pangborn asks for an explanation just say I told the truth, that you did ride in the police wagon. And then if she insists on hearing all the story make some excuse, but do not tell it!

Oh! if you knew how worried I am! And how dreadful it would be if she took it into her head to dismiss me!"

As Viola expected, she did bewilder Dorothy. Why should Viola weep and carry on so? But of course her mother was very delicate and perhaps it might get mixed up so that Viola would be blamed!

As if anything could be more mixed than that story was at present!

Dorothy arranging to leave school because she could not find out why her companions had taken a sudden dislike to her, and Viola there telling her why, and yet keeping the real truth as far from her as it had ever been hidden.

"But why should I not tell Mrs. Pangborn about the ride if she asks me?" insisted Dorothy, trying to see what was hidden from her.

"Because, don't you see, those girls may have made foolish remarks, and they will be blamed on me. Just because I was silly enough to believe they could see through a joke. And if you do not tell the story, there can be no further complications. It may be a little hard but, oh, Dorothy! do promise me!" and again Viola grasped both Dorothy's cold hands in hers.

"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 a.s.sured 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.