“Doro, you are a brick,” she said with more meaning than English. “I never could have gotten out of it. You ought to take up law. You are a born Portia.”
“Thank you,” said Dorothy quietly. “Mrs. Pangborn said she will send up some one to see how much you are hurt. She also said——”
“Back to bed,” Tavia interrupted quickly. “I am so ill I shall not be able to go to class for days. And that will cover the first exam nicely. Now, Ned, why didn’t you break your neck, so you could be laid up?”
“What do you suppose will happen to the others?” asked Edna, not noticing Tavia’s remark. “Do you suppose they will be suspended?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” Dorothy said, “but Mrs. Pangborn feels dreadfully. That fortune teller is a woman of very low character.”
“She certainly is,” said Tavia, with a pronounced wink at Edna. “I would not let her tell my fortune.”
“And the girls are all so excited over the things she did tell them,” Dorothy continued. “Why, some of them say she told the positive truth.”
“Good for her!” exclaimed Tavia. “She really ought to tell the truth, once in a while. I find it that way myself. But I wish I could have seen Jean, when the court-martial was in progress. I shouldn’t wonder but she will suggest that the girls jump out of their windows. She can’t stand Glenwood. I wonder where she was brought up, anyhow? I can’t say anything about woods, but our woods were—green, I fancy she used to ride a bronco in Arizona. Not that I wouldn’t like that, either.”
“There’s the mail,” said Dorothy anxiously, “I hope I have a letter.”
“Oh, you will—you always do. I am the one neglected,” Tavia said as Dorothy left the room. “Now, Ned, be careful. Doro is not to know. Didn’t fate favor us? That’s because, I suppose, that for once we were on the right side. And the others in chains! And me with a limp! Ned, couldn’t you pour some of that stuff on my foot? It gets very hot when I get gay.”