Small things grow quickly when they have plenty of room, and Dorothy’s escapade, being the one thing worth talking of at Glenwood, soon amounted to a sensational story, fanned by the gossips and nurtured by her rival in the school.
What girl has gone through school without some such similar experience? And does it not always occur at the most unexpected times?
Are there always, and everywhere, “school rivals?”
Mr. Armstrong said good-bye to Dorothy at the tanbark path that led to Glenwood Hall. Excited over her strange experience, Dorothy had no thought of what others might wonder! Where had she been? Why did she leave the grounds so early? What was Dorothy worrying about?
“See here, Doro,” Tavia confronted her, as together they prepared for breakfast—late at that. “What ails you? You promised to tell me to-day.”
“What ailed me, Tavia, does not exactly ail me now. I have just learned how some girls have to make a living.”
Saying this Dorothy sank back, rather unlike herself, for the morning had been warm, and her duties anything but refreshing.
“Dorothy, tell me, what is it?” demanded Tavia.
“You look at me as if I were a criminal,” replied the blonde Dalton girl. “I can never be coerced,” she finished.
“Dorothy, you are so unlike yourself. And you have no idea how much trouble that Jean Faval can make,” insisted Tavia, with more spirit than she usually showed.