“Why, no, I am all right,” said Dorothy, who began to feel herself all over to see if she was really awake and undamaged. “I have been having ghastly dreams, and I thought something was coming after me, only I was not able to get awake to see what it was.”
“Ah! a fit of nightmare, I suppose.” Margaret’s tone was sympathetic, but she yawned with sleepiness, and shivered from the cold. “I found you lying across the bed with your head hanging down, as if you were going to pitch out on to the floor, so I guess you were feeling bad.”
“What is the time?” Dorothy had struggled to a sitting posture, and was wondering if she dared ask Margaret to creep into bed with her, for there was a sense of panic on her still, and she feared—actually feared—to be left alone.
“Oh, the wee sma’ hours are getting bigger. It is just five o’clock—plenty of time for a good sleep yet before the rising bell. Lie down, and I will tuck you in snugly, then you will feel better.”
Dorothy sank back on her pillow, submitting to be vigorously tucked in by Margaret. She was suddenly ashamed of being afraid to stay alone. Now that she was wider awake the creeping horror was further behind her, while the fact that it was already five o’clock seemed to bring the daylight so much nearer.
She was soon asleep again, and she did not wake until roused by the bell. So heavy had been her sleep that her movements were slower than usual, and she was the last girl to leave the dormitory.
To her immense surprise both Hazel and Margaret gave her the cold shoulder at breakfast. They only spoke to her when she spoke to them. They both sat with gloom on their faces, as if the fog in which the outside world was wrapped that morning had somehow got into them.
Dorothy was at first disposed to be resentful. She supposed their grumpiness must be the result of her having disturbed the dormitory with her nightmare. It seemed a trifle rotten that they should treat her in such a fashion for what she could not help. She relapsed into silence herself for the remainder of breakfast, concentrating her thoughts and energies on the day’s work, and trying to get all the satisfaction she could out of the fact that she had pulled up one again this week in her school position.
“Dorothy, the Head wishes to see you in her study as soon as breakfast is over.” There was a constraint in Miss Groome’s voice which Dorothy was quick to feel, and she looked from her to the averted faces of Hazel and Margaret, wondering what could be the matter with them all.
“Yes, Miss Groome, I will go,” she said cheerfully; and she held her head up, feeling all the comfort of a quiet conscience, although privately she told herself that they were all being very horrid to her, seeing that she was so absolutely unconscious of having given offence in any way.