Part 10 (1/2)
”Certainly,” replied Dorothy coolly. ”Why not?”
”Oh, nothing, of course,” returned Viola, ”Only after yesterday folks might think--oh, you know country folks can never understand the trick of deciding things quickly. You had not thought of it--of going away before, had you?”
Dorothy was too indignant to speak. What ever could the girl mean by such insinuations? Even Alice seemed dumbfounded, and Tavia positively dangerous. She walked straight up to the chair Viola occupied.
”Miss Green,” she called. ”'After yesterday,' as you express it, is precisely the same as before yesterday, to all concerned. The experiences were unusual--”
”I should think so--” the stranger had the temerity to remark, but Alice had risen to go, while Viola stepped down from the porch, without offering a word of apology or explanation. ”And where are you going, Dorothy dear?” asked Alice tenderly, trying to undo the harm that her visitor had been so successful in creating.
”To the Glenwood School, in the mountains of New England, I believe,”
answered Dorothy.
”Indeed?” spoke up Miss Green again. ”That is where I attend. How strange we should meet just before the term opens,” and she smiled that same unpleasant smile that had chilled Dorothy when Alice introduced them.
”You do!” exclaimed Tavia rather rudely. Then she added: ”Dorothy Dale, who told you you could go away to school? You have not asked my permission yet. To the mountains of New England! I would like to see you run away and leave me!”
”It would be unpleasant indeed!” called back Viola. ”You had better come to Glenwood too!”
”Maybe I will,” snapped Tavia. ”One thing is certain. Dorothy Dale will have friends whereever she goes and if I could go, I would be most happy to look on while she reaps her new conquests. Dorothy is a regular winner, Miss Green. You will have to look out if she goes to Glenwood. She will cut you out with your best friends. She always makes one fell swoop of the entire outfit!”
A look of deep scorn was the answer Viola made to Tavia's attempt at raillery. Evidently she had made up her mind that Dorothy Dale would never ”cut her out” at Glenwood.
And Mrs. White had remarked to her brother, Major Dale, that a jealous girl was a dangerous enemy!
CHAPTER VII
TAVIA'S DANGER
”Whatever can that girl mean?” exclaimed Dorothy, when Alice and Viola had pa.s.sed down the walk.
”Mean! The meanest thing I ever met! Did you see her refuse my hand?”
asked Tavia. ”Well, it's a good thing to be able to size up a girl like that at the first meeting; it saves complications. But who cares for green violets? What I want to know is, are you really going away, Doro?” and the look on Tavia's face could not be mistaken. She would be dreadfully grieved if compelled to part with Dorothy's companions.h.i.+p.
”Aunt Winnie thinks I should go, and father has decided it is best. Of course I shall hate to leave you, Tavia,” and Dorothy wound her arm affectionately around her friend. ”In fact I shall never, never, find any girl to take your place in my heart,” and something very like tears came into Dorothy's voice.
”I knew it! I just knew you would go away when you got that hateful Indian money. And what in the world will I ever do in Dalton? Now I have learned how much pleasure I could have, visiting your friends and riding in automobiles, and then, just when I get to realizing what a good time we could have, you up and leave me! I might have know better than to go out of my own limits!” and here Tavia actually burst into tears, a most remarkable thing for her to do.
”I am so sorry,” said Dorothy with a sigh, putting her arm around the weeping girl.
”There! What a goose I am! Of course I would not have done differently if I could do it all over again. The good times we have had are the most precious spots in all my life. And, Doro dear, you did not drag me out of my sh.e.l.l--I was always running after you for that matter, so you need not think the loneliness will be any fault of yours--except that you are such a dreadfully dear girl that no one could help loving you. You really should try to curb that fault.”
Tavia had dried her tears. She was that sort of girl who is both too proud and too brave to show ”the white feather” as she often expressed the failing of giving away to emotion that might distress others.
”I do wish you could go along,” said Dorothy.
”Well, I don't believe I would really like to go, Doro,” Tavia surprised her by saying. ”I should probably get into all kinds of sc.r.a.pes with that Green Violet, and the sc.r.a.pes would likely make it unpleasant for you. Besides I have been thinking I ought to go to work. I am old enough to do something--fifteen next month you know--and I would just like to get right out into the world--go with the tide.”
”Tavia!” exclaimed Dorothy in alarm, for these rash sentiments had of late been strangely common with Tavia. ”You do not know what you are talking about. Go with the tide--”