In room nineteen Dorothy had not yet gone to her bed. She felt nervous and restless. Then too, she had fully decided to leave Glenwood and she had to think over what that meant for her, for her father and for Aunt Winnie.
What explanation could she make? She had never been a coward, why could she not face this thing and show everybody that she deserved no blame?
Surely Major Dale's Little Captain should display better courage than to let a crowd of foolish schoolgirls drive her from Glenwood!
Dorothy was thinking over the whole miserable affair when a timid knock came to her door.
It was too late for any of the girls—perhaps it was Mrs. Pangborn!
Dorothy opened the door promptly.
Viola Green stood before her—in a nightrobe, with her thick black hair falling about her like a pall.
"Viola!" whispered Dorothy, as kindly and quietly as if that girl had not stood between her and happiness.
"Oh, let me come in," begged the black-eyed girl in a wretched voice. "Quick! Some one may see me!"
"What is it?" asked Dorothy, making a chair ready and then turning up the light.