"Gave you up! And about that story! Why didn't you tell them?"
"Oh, I had promised Viola, and she was afraid she would be dismissed—"
"Promised Viola!" and Tavia stared blankly at Dorothy. "You poor little darling! And no one here to take your part!" and she held Dorothy to her heart a moment. "Who knows the story as she told it—I always knew she would tell it!"
"Perhaps some of the Pilgrims may know. They split and formed the Rebs."
"Without me? I'll bet they died an early death! I'm the only thoroughbred Reb in America!" and she brandished her hatpin wildly above her head. "But you just stay here a minute. My ten minutes alloted for clearing up the mystery is escaping," and at this Tavia flew out of the room.
It seemed she could not have gone down the corridor when she ran into Dorothy's room again.
"Well, of all the frosts!" she exclaimed. "I almost passed away when that stuttering girl from Maine tried to tell me. But I haven't seen Mrs. Pangborn yet. I'll just run into the office and show her my hat," and she was gone again.
"How good it was to have Tavia back," thought Dorothy. It seemed as if everything had been made right already. But Tavia would surely do something surprising. What would she say to Mrs. Pangborn?
But while Dorothy was thinking it over, a very lively little chat was taking place in the principal's office. At the first word about the "Story," Tavia blurted out the entire tale in such a way that even Mrs. Pangborn was obliged to admit she "knew how to string words together."
"My dear!" said that lady, when Tavia stopped, "I think this matter has gone so far it will be best to make a public explanation."