“Oh, you dear, noble girl!” exclaimed Zada, putting her arms around Dorothy’s neck. “I knew if I told you it would be all right, and I wanted to tell you before, but you would not let me. Now, I can rest,” and she breathed a sigh of relief. “But I must try to forgive the others, as you have been so good to me, I suppose.”
“I never knew I had such enemies,” said Dorothy. “Or perhaps they, too, thought it would be only a joke,” and Dorothy Dale endeavored, for her own peace of mind, and for the hope that her rivals might be friends—she tried to think it was intended for—a joke.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE ROADSIDE ROBBERY
Two whole weeks passed and Dorothy heard nothing but indefinite news from her father. The legal “hearing” had been postponed, he wrote, on account of some of the stockholders being away from the city. Just what “hearing” meant Dorothy did not know, but she did know that at least her father had not been deprived of his liberty.
Meanwhile Jean Faval became morose. All her defiance seemed to have turned into sulkiness, and except for Cecilia Reynolds, who was her very close friend, she scarcely noticed any of the girls.
Tavia she absolutely refused to speak to, much to the delight of the Dalton pupil, who said that was a positive evidence of guilt.
One afternoon, when Winter first showed its power, Jean again made her way to the post-office. She was thinking of what Mrs. Pangborn had said about the contents of the torn letter. She was thinking that, after all, it might have been as well for her to have paid no attention to that fortune teller, and to have told what she knew about the troubles of the Dales.
But the threat hung about her. She was somewhat superstitious, and, although she had only told it to Cecilia (who was so much a part of herself, that Jean denied to Mrs. Pangborn that she had told “anyone”), still now, that she had been blamed, and realizing that Dorothy still held her high place, a spirit of jealousy again made itself felt within Jean’s heart.
“If I could only find out how that old witch knew all she told me—if I could only induce her to tell,” Jean was thinking.