CHAPTER VI
FRISKY FENTON’S MARTYRDOM
The Smallest Sister was reconciled at last to being a boarder.
“I’ve got a new chum,” she announced eagerly, coming to see her sister on an afternoon which Betty, feeling more than usually “caught-up” with her other activities, had decided to devote to Dorothy.
“What’s happened to Shirley Ware?” asked Betty.
“We’re mad at each other—at least I’m mad at Shirley.” The Smallest Sister assumed an air of injured innocence. “We don’t speak any more, except to say good-morning at breakfast if Miss Dick is looking right at us.”
“But that’s so silly, Dorothy,” Betty protested. “Shirley is a dear little girl, and if you’ve quarreled it’s probably more your fault than hers. Tell me all about it, dearie.”
“Well,” Dorothy began sulkily, “I’d just as soon tell you, only Frisky—that’s Francisca Fenton, my new chum—she asked us all not to say anything more about it. I’m not the only one that’s mad at Shirley. Nearly every single girl at Miss Dick’s is too,—only being chums with her makes it worse for me, because I’m so ashamed of her.”
“Who is this Francisca Fenton?” asked Betty, digressing diplomatically for a moment from the main issue. “I never even heard you speak of her before. Haven’t you become chums very fast?”
Dorothy nodded importantly. “She’s one of the older girls. Maybe you haven’t heard me speak of her, but I’ve just nearly worshipped her ever since she came last fall. The other day when I cried because I was so mad at Shirley and so ashamed of her, why, she came and asked me to be chums. Her chum was in it too, you see. I mean she took sides with Shirley.”
“Sides about what?” asked Betty innocently.