“I suppose it’s at John Gilpin’s house. That is, if he didn’t throw it out of the cart with the empty barrels.”
“Why did he throw out the barrels?”
“To make a place for Robin to lie on.”
“What Robin?”
“The messenger boy who was hurt. He was bringing my telegram and he fainted and fell and the motor car—but I mustn’t stop now to talk. I must get dressed.”
“Couldn’t you talk without stopping? I could.”
“I believe you, child. Will you show me?”
“Of course—if you’ll tell the rest. Wait. If you want a robe I’ll get Gwendolyn’s. It’s right yonder.”
So it happened that the first act of the supposed charity pupil was to borrow a garment of the very girl who had so misjudged her, and who entered the dormitory just as Dorothy was leaving it for the lavatory.
Curiosity had sent Gwendolyn and Laura Griswold, her chum and “shadow,” back to this apartment at this unusual hour, but at sight of Dorothy disappearing toward the bath wearing Gwendolyn’s robe, its owner forgot her curiosity in indignation. Stopping short, midway the great room, she clasped her hands in a tragic manner and demanded of Laura: