CHAPTER XVI
WHAT VIOLA DID
"When we get to the top we will surely be able to see our way down,"declared Tavia. "So let us keep right on, even though this is not thepath we came up."
"But the others will not find us this way," sighed Dorothy, "and isn'tit getting dark!"
"Never mind. There must be some way of getting out of the woods. Nomountains for mine. Good flat _terra firma_ is good enough forChrissy."
Dorothy tried to be cheerful--there were no bears surely on thesepeaks, and perhaps no tramps--what would they be doing up there?
"Now!" cried Tavia, "I see a way down! Keep right close to me and youwill be all right! Yes, and I see a light! There's a hut at this endof the mountain."
To say that the lost Glenwood girls slid down the steep hill wouldhardly express the kind of speed that they indulged in--they went overthe ground like human kangaroos, and made such good time that thelight, seen by Tavia, actually stood before them now, in a little houseagainst the hill.
Two ferocious dogs greeted their coming--but Tavia managed to coax theminto submission, and presently a woman peered out of a dingy window anddemanded to know what was wanted. She seemed a coarse creature and theplace was such a hovel that the girls were sorry they had come.
"Don't answer her," cautioned Dorothy quickly. "Let's make our way tothe road."
Tavia saw that this would be safest, although she was not sure thewoman would allow them to pass unquestioned past her stone fence. Butwith a dash they did reach the highway and had made tracks alongthrough the muddy narrow wagon road before the woman, who was nowcalling after them, could do anything more disagreeable. The dogsfollowed them up for a few paces, and then turned back while the womancontinued to shout in tones that struck terror into the hearts of themiserable girls.
"We may be running away from Glenwood!" ventured Tavia, spatteringalong, "but this road surely goes to some place--if we can only getthere."
"Oh, I'm so out of breath," panted Dorothy. "We can walk now. Thewoman has ceased shouting."
"Wasn't it dreadful!" exclaimed Tavia. "I was just scared stiff!"
"We do get into such awful predicaments," mused Dorothy. "But Isuppose the others are almost as frightened as we are now,--I wasdreadfully afraid when the woman shouted to us."
"Wasn't she a scarecrow? Just like an old witch in a story book.Listen! I thought I heard the girls!"
"Hark!" echoed Dorothy. "I am sure that was Edna's yoddle. Answer it!"
At the top of her voice Tavia shouted the familiar call. Then shelistened again.
"Yes," declared Dorothy, "that's surely Ned. Oh, do let's run! Theymight turn off on another road! This place seems to be all turns."
When the welcome sounds of that call were heard by both parties littletime was lost in reaching the lost ones. What had seemed to benightfall was really only the blackness of the storm, and now, on theturnpike, a golden light shot through the trees, and wrapt its gloryabout the happy girls, who tried all at once to embrace the two who hadgone through such a reign of terror.
"Hurry! Hurry!" called Miss Crane, skipping along like a schoolgirlherself.
To tell the story of their adventures, the Dalton girls marched in thecenter of the middle row--everyone wanted to hear, and everyone wantedto be just as near as possible to Tavia and Dorothy.
Taking refuge under the cliff seemed exciting enough, but when Dorothytold how they had lost the trail to the mountain top, and how all thefooting slipped down as they tried to make the ascent, the girls werespell-bound. Then to hear Tavia describe, in her own inimitable way,the call of "the witch"--made some shout, ad the entire party ran alongas if the same "witch" was at their heels.
When the report was made to Mrs. Pangborn, that dignified lady lookedvery seriously at Dorothy and Tavia. Miss Crane had explained theentire affair, making it clear that the girls became separated from theothers by the merest accident, and that the storm did the rest.
"But you must remember, my dears," said Mrs. Pangborn kindly, "that, asboarding school girls, you should always keep near to the teacher incharge even when taking walks across the country. It is not at allsafe to wander about as you would at home. Nor can a girl depend uponher own judgment in asking strangers to direct her. Sometimesthoughtless boys delight in sending the girls out of their way. I amglad the affair has ended without further trouble. You must havesuffered when you found you really could not reach your companions.Let it be a lesson to all of you."
"Oh, if Miss Higley had been in charge," whispered Edna, when the girlsrehearsed their interview with Mrs. Pangborn. "You would not havegotten off so easily. She would have said you ran away from us."
So the days at Glenwood gently lapped over the quiet nights, until weekafter week marked events of more or less importance in the lives ofthose who had given themselves to what learning may be obtained frombooks; what influence may be gained from close companionship with thosewho might serve as models; and what fun might be smuggled in betweenthe lines, always against the rules, but never in actual defiance of asingle principle of the old New England institution.
"Just the by-laws," the girls would declare. "We can always suspendthem, as long as we do not touch the constitution."
This meant, of course, that innocent, harmless fun was alwayspermissible when no one suffered by the pranks, and no damage was doneto property or character.
Rose-Mary Markin had become Dorothy's intimate friend. She was what istermed an all-round girl, both cultured and broad minded, a rarecombination of character to find in a girl still in a preparatoryschool. She was as quick as a flash to detect deceit and yet gentle asone of the Babes in settling all matters where there was a question ofactual intention. The benefit of the doubt was her maxim, and, aspresident of the Glenwood Club, the membership of which included girlsfrom all the ranks, there was plenty of opportunity for Rose-Mary toexercise her benificence.
Viola Green had, as promised, resigned from office in the Nicks, andwhat was more she had organized a society in direct opposition to itsprinciples. All the girls who had not done well in the old clubreadily fell in with the promises of the new order, and soon Viola hada distinct following--the girls with grievances against Rose-Mary,imagined or otherwise. Molly Richards kept her "eye pealed for bombs,"she told Dorothy, and declared the "rebs" would be heard from sooner orlater in the midst of smokeless powder.
"It's a conspiracy against someone," announced Molly to Rose-Mary oneevening. "I heard them hatching the plot and--well I wouldn't like tobe unfair, but that Viola does hate Dorothy."
"She can never hurt Dorothy Dale," answered the upright president ofthe Glenwood Club. "She is beyond all that sort of thing."
But little did she know how Viola Green could hurt Dorothy Dale. Lessdid she think how serious could be the "hurt" inflicted.
The mid-year examinations had passed off, and the Dalton girls heldtheir own through the auspicious event. Dorothy showed a splendidfundamental education; that which fits a girl for clear study insubsequent undertakings, and that which is so often the result of thegood solid training given in country schools where methods are notcontinually changing. Tavia surprised herself with getting throughbetter than she had hoped, and credited her good luck to some plainfacts picked up in the dear old Dalton schoolroom.
But a letter from home disturbed Tavia's pleasant Glenwood life--herfather wrote of the illness of Mrs. Travers and said it was necessarythat their daughter should come home. For a few weeks only, themissive read, just while the mother had time to rest up and recover herstrength--the illness was nothing of a serious nature.
It did not seem possible that Tavia was packed and gone and thatDorothy was left in the school. A sense of this loneliness almostoverpowered Dorothy when she realized that her sister-friend wasgone--and the little bed across her room all smooth and unruffled bythe careless, jolly girl who tried to make life a joke and did her bestto make others share the same opinion.
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br /> It was Rose-Mary who came to cheer Dorothy in the loss of Tavia. Shesat with her evenings until the very last minute, and more than oncewas caught in the dark halls, the lights having been turned out beforethe girl could reach her own quarters.
Rose-Mary and Dorothy had similar fancies. Both naturally refined,they found many things to interest them--things that most of the girlswould not have bothered their pretty heads about. So their friendshipgrew stronger and their hearts became attuned, each to the other'srhythm, until Dorothy and Rose-Mary were the closest kind of friends.
Mrs. Pangborn had decided upon a play for mid-year. It would be a sortof trial for the big event which always marked the term's close atGlenwood and the characters would embrace students from alldepartments. The play was called Lalia, and was the story of a pilgrimon her way, intercepted by a Queen of Virtue and again sought out bythe Queen of Pleasure. The pilgrim is lost in the woods of doubt, andfinally brought to the haven of happiness by the Virtuous QueenCelesta. This Pilgrim's Progress required many characters for thequeen's retinues, besides the stars, of course, and the lesser parts.
Dorothy was chosen for Lalia--the best character.
The part had been assigned by vote, and Dorothy's splendid golden hair,coupled with that "angelic face," according to her admirers, won thepart for her. Rose-Mary Markin was made Celesta, the Queen of Virtue:and Viola Green, because of her dark complexion, being opposite that ofCelesta, was elected to be Frivolita, the Queen of Pleasure.
Each queen was allowed to select her own retinue--a delicious task,said the ones most interested.
Mrs. Pangborn made a neat little speech at the Glenwood meeting wherethese details were decided upon, and in it referred to the lesson ofthe story, incidentally hinting that some of the pupils had latelytaken it upon themselves to do things not in strict accord with thehistory of her school--the forming of a society, for instance, withoutthe consent or knowledge of any of the faculty. This secret doing, shesaid, could not continue. Either the girls should come to her and makeknown the object of their club, or this club could no longer holdmeetings.
This came like a thunderbolt from a clear sky--and by some Dorothy waspromptly accused of tale bearing.
But in spite of it all another secret meeting was held and at it the"Rebs," as they actually called themselves, declared open rebellion.They would not submit to such tyranny, and, further, they would nottake part in any play in which Dorothy Dale held an important part.
It was then the bomb was thrown by Viola, the bomb that she carried allthe way from Dalton, and had kept waiting for a chance to set itoff--until now--the hour of seeming triumph for Dorothy.
"I'll tell you the positive truth, girls," Viola began, first beingsure that no one but those in the "club" were within reach of hervoice, "I saw, with my own eyes, that girl, who pretends to be so goodand who goes around with a text on her simpering smile--I saw her getout of a police patrol wagon!"
"Oh!" gasped the girls. "You really didn't."
"I most positively did. Indeed!" sneered the informer, "every one inDalton knows it. Tavia Travers was in the same scrape, and in the samewagon. It was after that affair that they made up their minds, in ahurry, to get out of their home town and come to Glenwood!"