“You seem to know a great deal for a miss of your age! Have you had much experience with heart attacks?”
“I didn’t say it was a heart attack,” said poor Dolly, torn by her knowledge of what had really caused the trouble.
“It must have been, from what you say. That’s what I mean, you are too young and inexperienced to attend alone on a suffering victim of heart disease. Why didn’t you call some help?”
“I did want to, sir, but Miss Partland wouldn’t let me.”
“You may go. Return to the class and tell them they are dismissed. Let them all go to their next recitation at the proper time.”
“Yes, Mr. Macintosh.”
“Stop a minute.” Dolly turned. “Do you know anything more about this affair than you have told me?”
Dolly hesitated. What should she do? She did know more about it; she knew of the joke the boys had made up, and she felt almost sure that it was owing to this foolish jest that Miss Partland had imagined she felt ill so vividly, that at last she really did feel so. And yet, if Dolly “peached” on the boys, she well knew what they would think of her! It was a hard position. But, she thought quickly, it couldn’t help Miss Partland to tell of the joke now, and then again the illness might not have been caused by the joke after all, Dolly had been so engrossed with her difficult problem that she had not seen the successive boys and girls look at Miss Partland with such evident sympathy, anxiety and even consternation.
Her hesitation naturally made the Principal think she was withholding some information of importance, and he said so.
“No, Mr. Macintosh,” said Dolly, firmly; “I do not feel sure that I am. The only thing I know, is not positively connected with Miss Partland’s illness, although it may be. But as I am not sure, I am not justified in even speaking of it to you.”