ve school because she could not find out why
her companions had taken a sudden dislike to her, and Viola there
telling her why, and yet keeping the real truth as far from her as it
had ever been hidden.

"But why should I not tell Mrs. Pangborn about the ride if she asks
me?" insisted Dorothy, trying to see what was hidden from her.

"Because, don't you see, those girls may have made foolish remarks, and
they will be blamed on me. Just because I was silly enough to believe
they could see through a joke. And if you do not tell the story, there
can be no further complications. It may be a little hard but, oh,
Dorothy! do promise me!" and again Viola grasped both Dorothy's cold
hands in hers.

"I certainly would not do anything that would bring trouble on you,"
reflected Dorothy aloud, "especially if that might worry your poor,
sick mother."

"Oh, you darling! I knew you would promise. Now, no matter what Mrs.
Pangborn says, promise you will not do more than admit you took the
ride--be sure not to say why you took it!"

Dorothy was not suspicious by nature, else she would have seen through
the thin veil that hung between Viola and that word "promise." She was
using it too frequently for good taste, but she wanted and insisted on
getting a real, absolute Promise.

"But it might be rude for me to refuse to tell why we were in the
wagon, and at the same time to say we were in it."

"Rude!" echoed Viola. "What small account that would be compared to my
dismissal from school."

Dorothy tried to think--just as Viola had planned, she was not able to
reason it all out clearly--it was too complicated. The night was
getting old, it was ten o'clock and every Glenwood girl was expected to
be sleeping honestly, but these two were still far from reaching a
satisfactory settlement of their difficulty.

"One thing is certain, Viola," said Dorothy firmly, "I cannot and will
not do anything that would seem disrespectful to Mrs. Pangborn. Not
only is she a grand, sweet woman, a kind, just teacher, but she was my
mother's friend and is still my father's friend. So that it would be
impossible for me to do, or say, anything rude to her!"

This was a declaration of principles at last. And Viola for the moment
seemed beaten. But girls of her type have more than one loophole in
such an emergency.

"I had no idea of asking you to do anything unlady-like," she said with
a show of indignation. "It was you who made use of th