Certainly something had happened, or would happen, shortly, was the prevailing opinion.
But while the pupils were all eagerness for developments the teachers were weighing matters carefully. Mrs. Pangborn was a prudent woman, and was never known to have to rescind an official action.
“But we must manage it,” she had told Dorothy in the morning interview. “Of course it might have been better if you had acquainted me with the fact that this antagonism had been shown, but I cannot blame you for refraining from seeming unnecessary ‘tattling.’ However, I am very glad you have come to me now. You must assure Miette that no harm has been done, and I am sure I can adjust the matter for her. I think it best I should not talk to her myself at present, as she might feel called upon to give me the information she is so desirous of keeping secret.”
Dorothy was greatly relieved that Mrs. Pangborn did not blame her, and after the talk she felt that perhaps, as Mrs. Pangborn said, it would be all satisfactorily settled for Miette.
But Miette continued to worry, and it was two days before she could be induced to leave her room and go back to school work.
Dorothy was accustomed to helping those in difficulties. Her father, the major, used to call her his little Captain, and even as a child she went naturally to those who were in distress, and in a child’s confident way, often brought comfort where those of experience failed to give solace. This habit was the result of her early training, as well as the consequence of a loving heart. Now Dorothy, as a young girl, found the talent she had so successfully developed most useful, and with the power she was well equipped, not only to carry her own difficulties to some satisfactory termination, but to see deep down into the heart of those unable to cope with their own trials, weaker in character than Dorothy, and consequently more easily discouraged.
In little Miette, however, she found a strange problem. The child seemed willing enough to confide her story to Dorothy, but was withheld from doing so by some unknown reason. And not knowing the real circumstances, Dorothy could do as little “in the dark” as a lawyer might be expected to do when a client refuses confidence.
But in spite of this Dorothy felt that it was Miette who needed her now, and Miette whom she must assist in some way, although the mystery surrounding the little stranger seemed as deep to-day as it was the day she entered Glenwood.
The note that Nita Brandt picked up from the floor in the class room and gave to Miss Bylow was in the hands of Mrs. Pangborn, but that lady had not thought of such a thing as reading the child’s scrawl. She knew it was intended for some friend of Miette and no matter what the contents might be she could see no necessity of reading it, as the note was not to be sent away.
The transgression of which Miette was accused was that of having written this note after, and directly after, Miss Bylow had announced that no notes were to be written in the class room.