“They are not,” said Tavia, in a most positive way, “and I hope the ‘T’s’ get all that’s coming to them.”
“But you were out,” said Dorothy.
“We can prove an alibi,” went on Tavia. “I hurt my foot in the hall—that hole that Cologne spoke of.”
“Tavia!” Dorothy reproved.
“Oh, if it will make you feel better, Ned will drag me to the hole and I will fall over it now, but really I cannot see the necessity. Do they miss me, Ned?”
“If you would give me a chance to speak I’d be glad to tell you that Mrs. Pangborn sent me up here to summon you at once with the others. She does seem to suspect us, somehow.”
“That’s her wicked mind,” said Tavia jokingly. “But, Ned, you have got to go and tell her about my accident. Dorothy refuses.”
“Tavia, I have told you I would do all I could for you, if I really understood what to do.”
“Then listen. This is the real truth. Edna—note I only say Edna when I am deadly in earnest—she and I went off the grounds last night, on an errand of mercy. Honest, Dorothy, we were not with the others, and we went out to help a girl who needed our help. Now will you make my excuse?”
“I believe you, girls, complicated as the matter is,” declared Dorothy. “And I will go to Mrs. Pangborn. But I insist on telling her how your foot was hurt. If she wants to know more of it you will have to tell it all, I suppose,” she finished desperately.