Part 17 (1/2)

Numbers of Glenwood girls were picked up at various stations, and, as each was espied, the chair car party hailed them, Viola being acquainted with the last year's girls. Before the last station--some twenty miles from the destination of the students--had been struck off the time-table, there were actually twelve ”Glenwoods,” aboard. Those from Dalton felt just a bit ”green” Tavia admitted, never before having mingled with a boarding school ”tribe,” but on the whole the scholars were very sociable and agreeable, and made all sorts of promises for future good times.

”You see,” explained Rose-Mary Markin, a very dear girl from somewhere in Connecticut, ”we count all this side of Boston in the Knickerbocker set, 'Knicks,' we call them. The others are the Pilgrims; and isn't it dreadful to nickname them the 'Pills?'”

Tavia thought that ”the best ever,” and declared she would join the Knicks (spelled ”Nicks” in the school paper) no matter what the initiation would cost her.

”Viola is secretary of the Nicks,” volunteered Amy Brook, a girl who wore her hair parted exactly in the middle and looked cla.s.sical. ”We have lots of sport; plays and meetings. You will join, surely, Dorothy, won't you?”

”But I will not be secretary this year,” interrupted Viola, without allowing Dorothy to answer Amy. ”It's too much trouble.”

”But you can't resign until the first regular meeting in November,”

said Amy, surprised that Viola should wish to give up the office.

”I intend to resign the very first thing,” a.s.serted Viola. ”The Nicks can get along with a pro-tem until the regular meeting.”

Mrs. Green now fixed her strange gaze upon her daughter, and Dorothy, who was plainly more interested in the delicate little woman than in the schoolgirls' chatter, noticed a shadow come into the pale face.

Evidently Mrs. Green could stand no arguments, no confusion, and, when the girls continued to discuss the pros and cons of a secretary pro-tem, Dorothy suggested that they change the subject as it might be distressing to Mrs. Green. Quick as a flash Viola was all attention to her mother, inquiring about her head, offering to bring fresh ice water, and showing unusual anxiety, so it seemed to Dorothy's keen observation, when the lady was not really ill.

Then, at the first opportunity Viola called the girls down to the end compartment, and told them that her mother had only just recovered from a serious illness.

”She had a dreadful attack this time,” said Viola, ”and she should never have come on this journey.”

”Then why did she?” asked Tavia, in her blunt way.

”Well, she seemed so set upon it,” declared Viola, ”that the doctors thought it more dangerous to cross her about it than to allow her to come. Our doctor is on the train, but mother does not know it. I do wish she could get strong!”

The tears that came to the girl's eyes seemed very pitiable--every one of the party felt like crying with Viola.

Dorothy attempted to put her arms about the sad girl, but Viola was on her feet instantly.

”We must go back,” she said.

”Then we can arrange to sit in another place,” suggested Dorothy.

”Perhaps if she were quiet she might fall off asleep.”

Viola left the compartment first. There were people in the aisle--in front of her mother. What had happened?

”Oh!” screamed the girl. ”Mother! Let me go to her!” and she hurried through the car, pus.h.i.+ng aside the trainmen who had been summoned.

”Mother! Mother!” called the frightened Viola, for her mother was so pale and so still!

”Oh, she is dead!” whispered Tavia, who had succeeded in reaching the chair.

”Open the windows!” commanded Viola. ”Call Dr. Reed, quick! He is in the next car!”

It seemed an eternity--but in reality was only a few minutes--before the doctor reached the spot. Dorothy could see that Mrs. Green had not fainted--her eyes were moving. But poor Viola! How could they ever have thought ill of her when this was her sorrow: this her sad burden!

Dorothy Dale resolved in her heart, at that moment, that never a care nor a sorrow should come to Viola Green if she could protect her from it. She would be her champion at school, she would try to share this secret sorrow with her; she would do anything in her power to make life brighter for a girl who had this awful grief to bear.

”It's her mind,” Dorothy had heard someone whisper. Then the doctor had the porters carry the sick woman to a private compartment, and with her Viola remained, until the train reached Hanover. There Dr. Reed left the train and with him went Mrs. Green in care of an attendant.