"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.
