Dorothy sat up in bed and drew the child toward her:
“My dear, you haven’t given me a chance yet, you’ve been so busy telling me who you are. But I’ve enjoyed it and I thank you for coming to wake me up. Now I must get up and dress. Maybe you will show me to the bathroom, though I don’t like to go about in this way.”
“That’s a school nightie you’ve got on. Where’s your bath robe?”
“In my trunk.”
“Where’s your trunk?”
“I suppose it’s at John Gilpin’s house. That is, if he didn’t throw it out of the cart with the empty barrels.”
“Why did he throw out the barrels?”
“To make a place for Robin to lie on.”
“What Robin?”
“The messenger boy who was hurt. He was bringing my telegram and he fainted and fell and the motor car – but I mustn’t stop now to talk. I must get dressed.”
“Couldn’t you talk without stopping? I could.”
“I believe you, child. Will you show me?”
“Of course – if you’ll tell the rest. Wait. If you want a robe I’ll get Gwendolyn’s. It’s right yonder.”
So it happened that the first act of the supposed charity pupil was to borrow a garment of the very girl who had so misjudged her, and who entered the dormitory just as Dorothy was leaving it for the lavatory.
Curiosity had sent Gwendolyn and Laura Griswold, her chum and “shadow,” back to this apartment at this unusual hour, but at sight of Dorothy disappearing toward the bath wearing Gwendolyn’s robe, its owner forgot her curiosity in indignation. Stopping short, midway the great room, she clasped her hands in a tragic manner and demanded of Laura:
“Did you ever in your life see anything so cool as that? The impudent girl! How dare she? I wonder what else she’s taken! And that mischievous little Pill with her. That child’s the nuisance of this school. Even if she is Lady Principal’s niece, she shouldn’t be given the liberty she has. But I’ll report.”
“Yes, indeed, I’d report!” echoed Laura. “First, have to sleep in the school things; then help herself to yours. It’s simply outrageous. Why not go right away? It’s recess and Miss Tross-Kingdon has no class.”
“She has worse. The Bishop’s in the reception-room, and Dr. Winston, too. They were all talking very fast and I wanted to stop and listen. But I didn’t quite dare, for she was facing the door and might see me. But I did hear the Bishop say that if she was a Calvert she could hardly fail to be all right. She came of good stock – none better. I wondered who he meant; but Lady Principal saw me looking in and asked me if ‘I wished anything?’ Hateful woman! She has the most disagreeable manners!”
“Never mind. Anyway, let’s go tell her!” advised Laura, and the pair departed.
However, the electric bell rang just then, announcing that recess was over and the telling had to be postponed to a better season. A few moments later a maid came to say that as soon as Dorothy was ready the Lady Principal would receive her in the west parlor. But she might stop in the breakfast-room on the way, where a dish of cereal and a bowl of hot milk was awaiting her. The maid added to the “Little Pill”:
“As for you, Miss Grace, the Minims are ready for their calisthenics and your teacher wants you.”
“But I don’t want her. I want to go with Dolly.”
“You’re too big a girl for dolls, Miss Grace, and quite big enough to obey orders.”
Grace’s sharp little face darkened and she made a mocking grimace to the maid, retorting:
“You don’t know anything, Dora Bond! You don’t know that the Dolly I play with is this new girl. I shall go with her. I hate them exercises. They make my back ache. I’m excused to-day, anyhow. I heard Auntie Princie tell a lady how I wasn’t a bit strong and that she had to indulge me a lot. I shall do as I please. I shall go where I like. I shall, so, old Bondy! So there!”
Dorothy was surprised by the unpleasant expression which had settled on the little girl’s face, but said nothing. Following Bond’s direction, she hurried through a long hall to a sunshiny breakfast-room and the simple meal prepared for her. She hastily drank the milk, but had no appetite for the cereal. Her heart was in a flutter of anxiety about the coming interview with Miss Tross-Kingdon. She had at once disliked and feared that lady, on the night before, and felt that her present appearance, in a rain-spotted frock and with her hair so hastily brushed, must only add to the sternness of this unknown Lady Principal.
However, the clinging hand of Millikins-Pillikins gave a little comfort. She didn’t feel quite so lonely and timid with the child beside her and, as she made her graceful curtsey at the open door, all her fear vanished and she became once more the self-possessed Dorothy of old. For, rising and crossing the room to meet her was her acquaintance of the night, who had brought her to Oak Knowe in his own car from John Gilpin’s cottage.
With extended hands he grasped hers and, turning to Miss Muriel, remarked:
“Any time you need a nurse, madam, just call upon this little lady. She was the best helper I had last night. Quick and quiet and intelligent. She must train herself for that vocation when she is older.”
The color flew to Dorothy’s cheeks and she flashed him a grateful smile, for the kind words that so soothed her homesick heart.
The other gentleman in the room did not rise, but held out a beckoning hand and, with another curtsey to Doctor Winston, Dorothy excused herself to him and obeyed the summons. This other was a venerable man with a queer-shaped cap upon his white head and wearing knee breeches and gaiters, which made the young American remember some pictures of old Continental statesmen.
“So this is my old friend Betty Calvert’s child, is it? Well, well! You’re as like her as possible – yet only her great-niece. Ha, hum! Little lady, you carry me straight back to the days of my boyhood, when my parents came from England – strangers to your Baltimore. But we were not strangers for long. There’s a distant blood relation between our house and yours and we youngsters found in beautiful Bellevieu a second home. So you must remember that, since your aunt has done me the honor to send you away up here to this school of mine – of ours, I should say – you have come to another home just as I did then. Dear little Betty! What a mischief she was! Are you mischievous, too, I wonder?”
Then he turned to the Lady Principal, warning her:
“Look out for this little miss, Miss Tross-Kingdon! She looks as meek as a lamb, just now, but blood will tell and she’ll bear watching, I believe.”
The dear old man had drawn Dorothy close to his side and was smiling upon her in a manner to win the heart of any girl and to cure her of her homesickness – at least for the time being. When he released her, he rose to depart, resuming for a moment the business talk with