They were within sight of the depot newsstand now.
“Closed!” exclaimed Dorothy. “The shutter is down!”
“Well, then,” said Tavia desperately; “I’ll get a Gleaner from Cecilia Reynolds. I saw her have one at lunch.”
Dorothy was getting more and more nervous as they neared the hall. She slipped her arm in Tavia’s, and the latter gave her a reassuring press. Truly these two, who all their girlhood days had shared each others’ joys, and sorrows, were best fitted now to face the new trouble together, whatever it might be.
The afternoon was shading, but the air was delightful and the red maples were already losing their leaves.
“Suppose you sit here on the bench, Doro,” suggested Tavia, “while I go get the paper.”
Only too glad Dorothy assented, and Tavia ran off.
The time seemed hours to Dorothy before Tavia returned, and, when she did so, the color, that very rarely left her healthy cheeks, was missing.
“What is it?” asked Dorothy.
“A meeting of the entire school has been called—suddenly,” replied Tavia, “and I have been asked to have you come up at once. There is nothing but excitement. Even the new teachers are in the assembly room. I could not get a word from anyone, but was met at the door with the order to go and get you. We had better go.”