MISS CRANE AND VIOLA
Viola Green was thoroughly upset. She had quarreled with Miss Higley.
She had more than quarreled with Dorothy. Mrs. Pangborn had told her
plainly that if her story concerning Dorothy was found to be untrue she
would have to leave Glenwood, for that story had touched on the fair
name of a pupil of the school, to say nothing more. Having defamed the
honored name of Dale made the matter of still greater importance.
What should she do? To leave Glenwood seemed to be the only answer to
that oft-repeated question. But to get into Beaumonde required a clean
record from the former academy, and would Mrs. Pangborn furnish such a
record under the circumstances?
It was evening, and the other girls were probably enjoying themselves,
visiting about and settling wherever there was the best prospect of
fudge--the only confection students were allowed to make in their rooms.
But Viola would not go out, she was in no humor for visiting. While
reclining on her small white bed, thinking the situation over until her
head ached from very monotony, a note was slipped under her door. She
saw it instantly but did not at once attempt to pick it up--the sender
might be waiting outside and notice her readiness to become acquainted
with the contents.
Hearing the light step make its way down the hall Viola took and opened
the note.
"Humph!" she sniffed, "from Adele Thomas." Then she glanced over the
note. It read:
MY DEAR VIOLA:
We are all so worried about you. Do please come out of your room or
let some of us in. We wish very much to talk to you, but if you
persist in keeping us at bay won't you please make up your mind to
apologize at once to Miss Higley? There are so many counts against us
this month that the latest is positively dangerous in its present form.
Do Viola, dear, answer, and tell us you feel better and that you will
comply with the request of the committee. Lovingly yours,
LOWLY.
"Apologize!" echoed the girl. "As if my mother's daughter could ever
stoop to that weak American method of crawling out of things!" and her
dark eyes flashed while her olive face became as intense as if the girl
were a desperate woman.
"Don't they know that the blood of the de Carlos flows in my veins?"
she asked herself. "No, that's so, they do not know it--nor shall
they. Let them think me Italian, French or whatever they choose--but
let them not trifle with Spain. Ah, Spain! and how I have longed to
see that beautiful country with mother--darling mother!"
This thought of affection never failed to soften the temper of the wily
Viola. True she had seen fit always to hide her mother's nationality
from the schoolgirls. Often they had questioned her about her foreign
face and manners, but like many who do not admire the frankness of
Americans, it had pleased her to remain simply "foreign."
A supercilious smile crept over Viola's face. She held Adele's note in
her hand and read it again.
"Worried about me!" she repeated, "as if they care for anything but
excitement and nonsense. And they are aching for me to give the next
spasm of excitement! Well, they may get that, sooner than they expect."
A step stopped at her door. Then a light tap sounded on the panel.
Casting aside the note, Viola opened the portal and was confronted by
Miss Crane. Without waiting for an invitation the pleasant little
woman stepped inside.
"Good evening, Viola," she began. "Mrs. Pangborn sent me to have a
talk with you."
"Yes?" replied Viola, in her most non-committal tone.
"She has been much worried of late, so many things have been going on
that did not add to her peace of mind."
"That's a pity," said Viola, and this time her tone admitted of any
number of interpretations. But Miss Crane expected all this and was
fully prepared for it.
"Especially that matter about Dorothy Dale," went on the teacher. "She
is determined that the whole thing shall be cleared up at once."
"It ought to be," said Viola coolly, without appearing to take the
least interest in the conversation.
"In the first place," argued Miss Crane, "Mrs. Pangborn wished me to
say to you that a full explanation on your part would in the end save
you much--trouble."
"State's evidence!" almost sneered Viola.
"Not at all," contradicted her visitor. "Simply a matter of common
justice."
"I believe that's what they call it," persisted the girl, tossing her
head about to show a weariness of the "whole miserable thing."
"You insist that you saw Dorothy Dale and Octavia Travers alight from a
police patrol wagon?" asked Miss Crane severely.
"I do!" answered Viola, as solemnly as if taking an oath.
"And that you were told they had been arrested for some theft? Garden
stuff, I believe?"
"I heard Nat White, Dorothy Dale's own cousin, say so," again declared
Viola.
"And you had reason to believe he was in earnest?"
"Every reason to believe and know so."
Miss Crane stopped. She had expected Viola to break down on this
cross-examination, but evidently her story was not to be shaken.
"Is that all?" asked the girl with a show of hauteur.
"No," said Miss Crane. "I would like you to tell me the whole story."
"And if I refuse?"
"You surely would not risk dismissal?"
"No risk at all, my dear Miss Crane, I court it," and all the Spanish
fire of Viola's nature flashed and flamed with her words.
"Viola! Do you know what you are saying?"
"Perfectly. Have you finished with the 'third degree?'"
"Refrain from slang, if you please. I never countenance such
expressions."
Viola only smiled. Evidently Miss Crane had reached "the end of her
rope."
"And you will make no explanation of why you told such a story to the
girls of Glenwood?" and the calm voice of the teacher rang out clearly
now. "No other reason to give for depriving one of the sweetest and
best of these girls of her happy place among her companions? And that
same girl refuses to tell her own story, because of a promise! She
must bear all the shame, all the suspicion, all the wrong silently,
when everybody knows she is shielding someone. Viola Green, to whom
did Dorothy Dale make that promise?"
"How should I know?" replied the other with curled lip.
"Who, then, is Dorothy Dale shielding?"
"Shielding? Why, probably her dear friend, Tavia Travers. I don't
know, of course. I am merely trying to help you out!"
That shot blazed home--it staggered Miss Crane. She had never thought
of Octavia! And she was so close a friend of Dorothy's--besides being
over reckless! It might be that Dorothy was shielding Tavia and that
she would not and could not break a promise made to the absent member
of Glenwood school.
Miss Crane was silent. She sat there gazing at Viola. Her pink and
white cheeks assumed a red tinge.
Viola was victorious again. She had only made a suggestion and that
suggestion had done all the rest.
"I will talk to Mrs. Pangborn," said Miss Crane finally, and she arose
and quietly left the room.