“There is no telling where she may turn up,” continued the missive, “so keep your eyes and ears open, and let me know if there should be any clue to her whereabouts around Glenwood.”
There were other news items of more or less importance—all about Dorothy’s brothers, Joe and Roger, how well they got along at school, and how grieved they were to find that Dorothy had left for Glenwood before they had had a chance to see her again. Mrs. White went on to say in the letter that Major Dale was much improved in health, and that his trip during the summer had made “a new man of him.”
So the missive concluded, and after going over it again, Dorothy was unable to find another word “between the lines.”
“Where can poor Urania be hiding?” she added, when at last she folded up the precious letter from home and put it in her leather case. “I do hope she will escape those cruel men. Oh, when I think of that cave—but—”
“You are reminded that you should forget it,” interrupted Tavia. “Do you know, Dorothy Dale, it is time for class?”
This announcement ended the discussion of affairs at the Cedars, although Dorothy could not so easily disengage her thoughts from the home scenes mentioned and suggested by the letter from Aunt Winnie.
Rose-Mary slipped up to her as they passed in to take their places.
“The ‘rowdies’ are up to some scheme,” she whispered, meaning by “rowdies” the girls who usually succeeded in making trouble, the present attack being aimed at Miette. “I heard them plotting last night.”
There was neither time nor opportunity for reply, but what Dorothy did not say with the glance she bestowed on Cologne was not at all difficult to guess at. She had shot a challenging look out of her deep blue eyes, such as she very seldom indulged in.
“She’ll stand pat for Miette, all right,” Cologne concluded within her own mind, “and the others had best not be too sure of themselves.”