“And I think Miette looks so much better—she was quite cheerful when she came in,” went on Tavia.
“Yes, I found out that she never wrote the note in the classroom, and I mean to tell Mrs. Pangborn so, first thing in the morning. Miette was willing to go to her, herself, but I think it may be best for me to speak to Mrs. Pangborn first.”
“What on earth would Glenwood girls do without you?” asked Tavia, laughing. “You are a regular adjustment bureau.”
“Some one has to do it,” replied Dorothy simply.
“Why don’t you let them, then?” asked Tavia, just to tease her friend.
“A natural inclination to meddle,” remarked Dorothy, “keeps me going. I suppose I really should not monopolize the interesting work.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. I don’t happen to know any one who objects.”
But the work with which Dorothy was at present engaged was not so simple as she would have her friend believe.
In the first place, Miette’s troubles were not at all easy to handle. The girl was naturally secretive, and with the obligation of keeping her affairs entirely to herself (as she had explained to Dorothy those were her orders from someone) it was a difficult matter to understand just why she should “go to pieces” over the small happening of having lost a note.
Now Dorothy had at least found out that the note was not written contrary to school orders, so that would be one fact to Miette’s credit, whatever else might remain to her discomfort in the actual loss of the note.