“One word more,” spoke Mrs. Pangborn, “you know we have a number of new girls this term, and I would ask you and your friends, as you are so well acquainted with Glenwood, to do all you can to make them happy and contented. I don’t like seeing the strangers gathered in little knots alone. It is not friendly, to say the least.”
“But, Mrs. Pangborn, those girls seem to want to keep by themselves. They have refused every effort we have made to be friendly,” Dorothy answered.
“They may be shy. That little one from the South is the daughter of a friend of mine. Her name is Zada Hillis, and I am most anxious that she shall not get homesick,” insisted Mrs. Pangborn.
“I will do all I can to make her contented,” Dorothy replied, “but she seems on such friendly terms with some of the other girls—in fact Jean Faval has taken her up quite exclusively, and Jean refuses to be friends with me.”
Dorothy was glad she had said that much, for, somehow, she traced her unpleasant interview to the sly work of Jean and her chums.
Mrs. Pangborn turned to her books, indicating that was all she wished to say, and Dorothy left the room.
Tavia was outside waiting for her.
“All right, sis?” she asked, noting that Dorothy was trembling with suppressed emotion.
Dorothy merely pressed Tavia’s arm. She could not just then trust herself to speak.
“Come on,” Tavia said. “We’ll go back to our room. Perhaps I can make you feel better by telling how that thing happened.”