The happy party were making their way to the room Dorothy and Tavia used, numbered nineteen, when, passing the office, Mrs. Pangborn, the president of Glenwood, called to Dorothy.
“Dorothy, will you step into the office, dear, for just a moment? Then you may go with the others—I see they are looking for fun, somewhere.”
“Come along, Miette,” and Cologne hooked her arm into the black sleeve. “No use waiting for the parson. You see, we call Dorothy Dale ‘Parson,’ because she’s a D. D.” she explained.
“O-h-h!” answered the French girl, in the inimitable “chromatic” voice peculiar to her country.
Then they ran along—to room nineteen.
Meanwhile Mrs. Pangborn was talking to Dorothy.
“This little strange girl has had some sadness in her life lately,” she said, “and I would like you to be especially kind to her, Dorothy. I know you are always kind to new pupils,” the president hurried to add, “but in this case I am most anxious that Miette shall not be pained, and sometimes girls do not realize the small things that hurt sensitive strangers. For instance, I would not like the girls to ask Miette about her relations,” finished Mrs. Pangborn.
“I’ll do all I can,” promptly replied Dorothy, “but, as you say, Mrs. Pangborn, girls do not realize how easily strangers may be offended,” she finished, thinking of the pained look that had overspread Miette’s face when Nita spoke of her parentage.
“Well, my dear, I know I can depend upon you. And should you discover that any girl might take a seeming dislike—that is, disregard actual courtesy—I should be obliged if you would report it to me. I must see that this child is as happy as we can make her,” and at this Mrs. Pangborn smiled pleasantly and Dorothy went out to join her companions.
“There is some mystery,” Dorothy told herself, “about the pretty little Miette. I don’t relish playing spy, but, of course, as Mrs. Pangborn says, she must be allowed to be happy.”