“Since I heard they were after me.”
“Well, come. This is Miette, a great friend of mine,” Miette had been watching in wondering silence, “she will keep our secret safe.”
They started off, the boy shuffling along after them. Dorothy could not hide her pleasure—she was plainly glad to have come across this queer boy, and he seemed glad, too, to have met Dorothy. Occasionally he would ask a question as they walked along, but in answering those put by Dorothy he seemed very cautious.
“This is Glenwood School,” she said, as the big brown building on the hill rose up before them.
“I—I can’t go there,” objected the child.
“Only to the basement,” Dorothy replied, “I will have you cared for without bringing you where the pupils are. The president, Mrs. Pangborn, is a very kind woman, and when I tell her your story I am sure she will help take care of you, until we can arrange something else.”
Miette seemed speechless. What in the world could Dorothy be doing? Dragging this dirty boy along, and talking as if he were an old friend? Surely Dorothy Dale was a strange girl. Someone had told her that when she came to Glenwood. Now she understood why.
At the gate they met Tavia and Edna. The two had been after hazel nuts and were returning with hats full of the knotted green burs.
“’Lo there!” called Tavia, “want some hazels? Good mind not to give you one, you were so stingy about your old walk.”
The boy lowered his head, and pulled the ragged cap down on his eyes.