“You will have to have the doctor,” Edna declared, “and I shouldn’t be surprised if a committee of the Glens came to wait on you at recess. They simply cannot get over the fact that you and I were not in the scrape.”
“Don’t blame them, but we were not. Where we were is not for them to know. Can I trust you, Ned, when I am not along?”
“Indeed I am only too glad to get off this far, but I keep thinking it will all come out. If it does——”
“We’ll load it on poor Doro. She’ll get us out of it, as she always does. With my brain, if I only had a trace of Doro’s character, I would make the world stand up and ignore the sun,” said Tavia.
By this time Dorothy had returned with her mail. Her pretty face was clouded, and she avoided the gaze of Tavia and Edna.
“What’s the news?” asked Tavia.
“Nothing very special,” she replied, putting her letter away. “There’s the bell. Edna, you and I, and the other good ones, are expected to answer questions as usual,” she said, whereat Edna jumped up and left the room.
“Father wrote,” said Dorothy to Tavia, when they were alone, “that I was not to worry, that things would surely straighten themselves out. Now is that not the very thing to make one worry?”
“It would put me fast to sleep,” declared Tavia, “but of course, I have not your fine instinct to scent danger. You ought to go stealing dogs with me, or breaking your ankles. That’s the sort of thing that knocks nerves out of joint. Doro, I am sure I hear Jean jumping out of the window!”
“Don’t be absurd,” Dorothy said. “I guess Jean has better sense than to get further into trouble. Well, I must go to class. Be sure, whoever comes to look after you, that you are at least civil.”