"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 cla.s.s 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 sc.r.a.p 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 circ.u.mstances?
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."
"That"s a pity," said Viola, and this time her tone admitted of any number of interpretations. But Miss Crane expected all this and was fully prepared for it.
"Especially that matter about Dorothy Dale," went on the teacher. "She is determined that the whole thing shall be cleared up at once."
"It ought to be," said Viola coolly, without appearing to take the least interest in the conversation.
"In the first place," argued Miss Crane, "Mrs. Pangborn wished me to say to you that a full explanation on your part would in the end save you much--trouble."
"State"s evidence!" almost sneered Viola.
"Not at all," contradicted her visitor. "Simply a matter of common justice."
"I believe that"s what they call it," persisted the girl, tossing her head about to show a weariness of the "whole miserable thing."