Part 14 (1/2)
”Well, I do, Mrs. Vincent. It was every bit her own fault. She hates Tzaritza, and I love her,” was Rosalie's vehement if perplexing conclusion as she cast herself upon the big dog. Tzaritza welcomed her with a grateful whine and crept closer, though she never raised her head. She was waiting the word of forgiveness from the one she loved best of all, but Peggy was awaiting Tzaritza's exoneration. Mrs.
Vincent, who had sent for the resident trained nurse, was examining Polly's arm and now said:
”It is all very distressing, but I am glad no more serious for Polly.
The arm is badly bruised and will be very painful for some time, but I can't discover a scratch. Miss Allen, will you please look after this little girl,” she asked, as the sweet-faced trained nurse entered the room, her white uniform snowy and immaculate, her face a benediction in its sweet, calm repose.
”Go with Miss Allen, dear, and have your arm dressed.” Polly paused only long enough to stoop down and kiss Tzaritza's head, the caress being acknowledged by a pathetic whine, then followed the nurse from the room.
Peggy was terribly distressed.
”Do you think I would better send her back to Severndale, Mrs. Vincent?”
she asked.
”Has she ever attacked anyone before, Peggy?”
”Never in all her life.”
”I hardly think she will again. She may remain. Come here, Tzaritza.”
Tzaritza did not stir.
”Up, Tzaritza,” commanded Peggy, and the affectionate creature's feet were upon her shoulders as she begged forgiveness with almost human eloquence.
”Oh, my bonny one, how could you?” asked Peggy as she caressed the silky head. Tzaritza's whimpers reduced some of the girls to tears. ”Now go to Mrs. Vincent,” ordered Peggy, and the hound obediently crossed the room to lay her head in that lady's lap.
”Poor Tzaritza, you did what you believed to be your duty, didn't you?
None of us can do more. I wish some of my other problems were as easy to solve as the motives of your act. Go on with your fudge party, girls. It will prove a diversion. I must look to other matters now,” and Mrs.
Vincent sighed at the prospect of the coming interview with Miss Sturgis. It was not her first experience by any means.
CHAPTER XI
BEHIND SCENES
The girls were hardly in a mood to return to their fudge-making, so Stella produced a box of Whitman's chocolates and the group settled down to eat them and discuss the events of the past exciting half hour. Polly squatted upon the rug and with her uninjured arm hauled about half of Tzaritza upon her lap. Tzaritza was positively foolish in her ecstatic joy at being restored to favor.
”Poor Tzaritza, you got into trouble because I lost my temper, didn't you? It was a heap more my fault than yours after all.”
”Oh, there's nothing wrong with Tzaritza. It's the Sturgeon. Hateful old thing! I just hope Mrs. Vincent gives her bally-hack,” stormed Rosalie.
”Suppose we did shout and screech? It's Sat.u.r.day night and we have a right to if we like. But what under the sun did Mrs. Vincent want of you, Peggy?”
”Oh, nothing very serious,” answered Peggy, smiling in a way which set Rosalie's curiosity a-galloping.
”Yes, what _did_ she want?” demanded Polly, turning to look up at Peggy.
”Can't tell anybody _now_. You'll all know after Thanksgiving,” answered Peggy, wagging her head in the negative.
”Oh, please tell us! Ah, do! We won't breathe a living, single word!”
cried the chorus.