“I never told any fortunes to your girls,” said the woman. “I told them the truth. If they would tell you the truth, they would bear me out.”
“I did not come to discuss your methods,” said the principal, “but just to say to you that I will not allow my girls to visit this place——”
“But I would like to tell you,” interrupted the woman, “that I only told those girls what I really knew. I did not tell any fortunes.”
Mrs. Pangborn stopped to realize what the woman meant. How could she know, this stranger, such things as she had told those girls, for, since the happening, bit by bit, information was coming to the principal that aroused her suspicion. She had heard, for instance, that the torn letter was mentioned to Jean Faval. Mrs. Pangborn had handled that letter when it came to Jean, in the regular mail. A maid had reported that she had seen a letter at Dorothy’s door, but, believing it to be left there for some one, she had not carried it off in her cleaning. That was how Tavia came to get it.
“Will you tell me who informed you of my pupils’ affairs?” Mrs. Pangborn asked.
“No, I cannot do that,” replied the woman, “but you may know that some one did tell me of them.”
Here was a new problem—some one had come to this woman, and told her what to tell the girls! Who could it be, and what could have been their motive in doing so?
“You see,” said the woman, “you have no charge against me. I did not tell any fortunes!”
As she understood that this was why the woman had argued simply to clear herself, Mrs. Pangborn left the place.
It would not be well, she decided, to make any inquiry just then, as the girls had been through so many little troubles in the short term. But she, of course, would have to have them guarded—especially Jean, Zada and Tavia. She had no fear that Dorothy would do anything dishonorable.