“Oh,” exclaimed Dorothy, “Isn’t that awful? What shall we do?”
“I said before, young lady, you can do as you please, but I’m wasting good time standing here talking. I’ll just be movin’ along. Come along, Urania.”
But Urania would not move. She put her two feet down so firmly against the planks of the platform that even the strong constable saw he would have to drag her, if he insisted on her going along.
Miette began to cry. Dorothy stepped aside and spoke to the gentleman who had so kindly offered to help her. The thought that she had not sent word to the Cedars that she was coming—that she was not expected—just flashed across her mind.
What if Mrs. White should not be at home? But the major—and yet, in her last letter to Glenwood Mrs. White told that Major Dale was gone away on a business trip, about some property that had to be settled up.
What a predicament? But this was no time to speculate on possible troubles—there were plenty of certainties to worry about.
Urania still defied the officer. And Miette was over on a bench crying.
“Couldn’t you—let these girls go—on my bond?” asked the gentleman, crossing to the officer’s side. “I will be responsible—”
“I have said before those two can go—but there ain’t a bond strong enough in the county to stand for this one—she’s too slippery.”
“Then we must all go together,” declared Dorothy. “I will stay with—my friend.”