Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School Part 17

Numbers of Glenwood girls were picked up at various stations, and, as each was espied, the chair car party hailed them, Viola being acquainted with the last year's girls. Before the last station--some twenty miles from the destination of the students--had been struck off the time-table, there were actually twelve "Glenwoods," aboard. Those from Dalton felt just a bit "green" Tavia admitted, never before having mingled with a boarding school "tribe," but on the whole the scholars were very sociable and agreeable, and made all sorts of promises for future good times.

"You see," explained Rose-Mary Markin, a very dear girl from somewhere in Connecticut, "we count all this side of Boston in the Knickerbocker set, 'Knicks,' we call them. The others are the Pilgrims; and isn't it dreadful to nickname them the 'Pills?'"

Tavia thought that "the best ever," and declared she would join the Knicks (spelled "Nicks" in the school paper) no matter what the initiation would cost her.

"Viola is secretary of the Nicks," volunteered Amy Brook, a girl who wore her hair parted exactly in the middle and looked cla.s.sical. "We have lots of sport; plays and meetings. You will join, surely, Dorothy, won't you?"

"But I will not be secretary this year," interrupted Viola, without allowing Dorothy to answer Amy. "It's too much trouble."

"But you can't resign until the first regular meeting in November,"

said Amy, surprised that Viola should wish to give up the office.

"I intend to resign the very first thing," a.s.serted Viola. "The Nicks can get along with a pro-tem until the regular meeting."

Mrs. Green now fixed her strange gaze upon her daughter, and Dorothy, who was plainly more interested in the delicate little woman than in the schoolgirls' chatter, noticed a shadow come into the pale face.

Evidently Mrs. Green could stand no arguments, no confusion, and, when the girls continued to discuss the pros and cons of a secretary pro-tem, Dorothy suggested that they change the subject as it might be distressing to Mrs. Green. Quick as a flash Viola was all attention to her mother, inquiring about her head, offering to bring fresh ice water, and showing unusual anxiety, so it seemed to Dorothy's keen observation, when the lady was not really ill.

Then, at the first opportunity Viola called the girls down to the end compartment, and told them that her mother had only just recovered from a serious illness.

"She had a dreadful attack this time," said Viola, "and she should never have come on this journey."

"Then why did she?" asked Tavia, in her blunt way.

"Well, she seemed so set upon it," declared Viola, "that the doctors thought it more dangerous to cross her about it than to allow her to come. Our doctor is on the train, but mother does not know it. I do wish she could get strong!"

The tears that came to the girl's eyes seemed very pitiable--every one of the party felt like crying with Viola.

Dorothy attempted to put her arms about the sad girl, but Viola was on her feet instantly.

"We must go back," she said.

"Then we can arrange to sit in another place," suggested Dorothy.

"Perhaps if she were quiet she might fall off asleep."

Viola left the compartment first. There were people in the aisle--in front of her mother. What had happened?

"Oh!" screamed the girl. "Mother! Let me go to her!" and she hurried through the car, pus.h.i.+ng aside the trainmen who had been summoned.

"Mother! Mother!" called the frightened Viola, for her mother was so pale and so still!

"Oh, she is dead!" whispered Tavia, who had succeeded in reaching the chair.

"Open the windows!" commanded Viola. "Call Dr. Reed, quick! He is in the next car!"

It seemed an eternity--but in reality was only a few minutes--before the doctor reached the spot. Dorothy could see that Mrs. Green had not fainted--her eyes were moving. But poor Viola! How could they ever have thought ill of her when this was her sorrow: this her sad burden!

Dorothy Dale resolved in her heart, at that moment, that never a care nor a sorrow should come to Viola Green if she could protect her from it. She would be her champion at school, she would try to share this secret sorrow with her; she would do anything in her power to make life brighter for a girl who had this awful grief to bear.

"It's her mind," Dorothy had heard someone whisper. Then the doctor had the porters carry the sick woman to a private compartment, and with her Viola remained, until the train reached Hanover. There Dr. Reed left the train and with him went Mrs. Green in care of an attendant.

When they were gone Viola returned to her companions weeping and almost sick herself.

"The doctor would not let me go back home," she sighed, "and as soon as mother was conscious she insisted on me going on to school. Dr. Reed can always manage her so well, and if I were with him perhaps mother would fret more. But I did think she would get over those awful spells--" and the girl burst into fresh tears.

"Viola, dear," said Dorothy soothingly. "Try to be brave. Perhaps the trip may benefit her in the end."

"Oh, don't try to be kind to me," wailed the unhappy girl. "I can't stand it! I hate everybody and everything in this world only my darling little sweet mother! And I cannot have her! She can never go with me to her own country now, and we had planned it all! Oh, mother darling! Why did you inherit that awful sickness! Why can't we cure you!" and so the sad daughter wailed and wept, while her companions looked on helplessly.

"But you will let me be you friend," pleaded Dorothy. "Try to think it will all come right some day--every sorrow must unfold some blessing--"

"My friend!" and Viola looked with that same sharp glance that her mother had shown--that queer glare at Dorothy. "Dorothy Dale, you do not know what you are talking about!"

And every girl present had reason to remember this strange remark when days at Glenwood school proved their meaning.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CATEGORY

"Isn't it great!" exclaimed Tavia, shaking out her blue dress, and tying a worn handkerchief over its particular closet hook so that no hump would appear in the soft blue texture. "I never would believe boarding school was such fun. Here comes Rose-Mary with more Nicks to introduce. I hear her laughing--hasn't she got the jolliest little giggle--like our brook when it bubbles over."

"I wish, Tavia, you would confine your wardrobe to your own half of the closet," Dorothy remonstrated, as she took down several articles that had "crossed the line."

"Oh, I will, dear, only I was just listening to what those girls were saying. I thought I heard Viola's voice. Isn't it strange she does not call on us. I told her our room was Number Nineteen."

"I suppose she's busy, every one appears to be except Rose-Mary. She doesn't seem to mind whether her trunk is unpacked first day or on Christmas," said Dorothy, working diligently at her own baggage.

"I would just love to go the rounds with her," declared Tavia, "if you did not insist upon going right to work. I would rather have fun now and unpack later."

"But there is no later. We must go to bed at eight thirty, my dear, and we have no time to spare. School will begin to-morrow."

"All the more reason why we should have the fun now," persisted Tavia, who was nevertheless getting her clothes on the hooks in short order.

"There! I'm all hung up," she declared, banging the closet door furiously, in spite of Dorothy's hat box trying to stop it.

"But your hats," Dorothy reminded her. "They have got to go on that shelf, and there isn't an inch of room left."

"Then I'll just stick the box under the bed," calmly remarked the new girl, making a kick at the unlucky box and following it up to the "goal."

"Against the rules," announced Dorothy, pointing to a typewritten notice on the door. "Read!"

"Haven't time. You read them and tell me about them. I'll take the box out if it says so, but if we have to keep things in such angelic order why in the world don't they give us room?"

"Room? Indeed this is a large room, given us especially, and it is quite a favor to be allowed to room together--only real sisters ever get a double."

"Heaven help the singles!" sighed Tavia in mock devotion. "But come on, Doro,--we are missing all the fun. I did think I heard the mob at our door."

Without further leave or license Tavia dragged Dorothy from her work and closed the door of Number Nineteen behind her. In the hall they found Rose-Mary, whom the girls called "Cologne," Amy Brook, Nita Brant, and Lena Berg. All were trying to talk at once, each had "the very most delicious vacation" to tell about, and to Dorothy it appeared the first requisite for boarding school ways was the coining of absurd and meaningless phrases. Tavia fell right into line, and could discount anyone of the crowd. "Splendifiorous, glorioutious and scrambunctious," were plainly hard to beat, and no one seemed willing to try. Cologne had a way of saying things in a jerky little jump that suggested b.u.mping noses, Amy Brook fairly strangled with dashes and other unexpected shorts stops, while Nita Brant "wallowed" in such exclamations as:

"Fine and dandy! Perfectly sugary! Too killingly, dear, for anything!"