"He was staying with some relatives, wasn't he?"
"Yes, cousins, I believe."
"Why couldn't somebody tell them? They might stop it; and it must be stopped, or—you know what Miss Marr might do? She might, you know, send her home,—expel her at once."
"Yes, I thought of that; and that was one reason I had for not telling her."
"Oh, it's all so silly! What fun could there be in sneaking off to drink ice-cream soda with Raymond Armitage?"
"No particular fun in the soda itself. The fun to Dorothea was just the sneaking off. You can see she thinks she's having 'great larks,' as she'd call it,—is being independent and having adventures and being a great flirt, and that Raymond Armitage admires her for it. And Raymond Armitage is simply laughing in his sleeve at her. Oh, I should think any girl would have better sense, better taste; and Anna Fleming talks about her family."
"But she isn't the only one of her family. There's her cousin; look at him: he's a little gentleman if ever there was one. What would he say to her if he knew? And just think! there she was back again, playing on her violin with him as cool as you please, directly after her lark, and no doubt pluming herself on it."
"I wonder what excuse she made to get off as she did?"
"Excuse? You don't suppose she made any excuse? Not she. She just skipped out, in the rest hour, when Miss Marr and the other teachers were off duty; and she managed to come back at the right time. Oh, it makes me more and more indignant the longer I think of it, for it's a bigger shame because Miss Marr is so nice about our school parties and our receptions, and treats us like ladies, and trusts us to be ladies, and not to deceive her. But hark! it's striking six, and I must get ready for dinner."