They all laughed at this, but Dotty said, earnestly, “Don’t go, Doll; you’ll have to tell on the boys and girls, and that will be awful mean.”
“No, I won’t. I’ve a plan of my own, and I won’t say a word about your playing a joke, or anything about any of you. But I do think, Lollie, and you Tad and Tod too, that it’s a mean, horrid thing to play practical jokes, and I think you ought to be told on,—but I won’t tell on you.”
“Ah, now, Dolly, Towhead Dolly, don’t be hard on us,” said Tad, in such a wheedlesome way that Dolly had to laugh. “We didn’t mean any real harm, and she has been awfully cross to us, and we’re not such angels of goodness as you are—”
“I’m not an angel of goodness, Tad Brown, and I’ll thank you to stop making fun of me! But I do believe in being decent to a teacher, even if she is strict in her rules.”
“Come on, Dolly,” said Dotty, as they neared the street where Miss Partland lived; “if you’re going, I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, ho!” jeered Lollie, “two little angels of goodness, little white angels, with shiny wings! Well, fly into old Party’s house, and see what’s the matter with her,—mumps or measles!”
The two girls went to the house, and were invited to go up to the teacher’s room.
They found Miss Partland, sitting in an easy chair, looking disconsolate indeed.
“How do you do, girls?” she said, listlessly; “won’t you sit down?”
The two D’s sat down, and Dolly said, at once, “Oh, I’m glad to see you looking so much better, Miss Partland! You’re not really ill, are you?”