DOROTHY IS “POUNCED UPON”
Dorothy had two very serious problems in her mind all the time, and
they sometimes interfered with the problems put forth by Miss Olaine to
the class. The girl wanted to know where Mrs. Ann Hogan had her farm;
and she wondered how she was to begin, even, to get into communication
with Tom Moran, the big, redheaded brother that little Celia remembered
“just as easy!”
“It’s easy enough to guess where Celia came from--the ‘Findling,’ I
mean. There’s only one foundling asylum in the county and that is in
the city. Celia has been used to the city all her life. I can write to
the matron of the city children’s asylum and find out all _she_ knows
about Celia and her folks.
“But even she wasn’t able to find Tom Moran. It’s pretty sure that
Celia knew what she was talking about. She has got a big brother, and
he went off to work before his aunt died, thinking he had left Celia in
good care.
“‘He builds bridges, and things.’ That’s what Celia says. Those
sort of men travel about a good deal. What does the paper call
them--now--‘bridge and structural iron workers?’ Isn’t that it? And
they have a very strong union.
“I’ve heard daddy talking about them,” quoth Dorothy Dale. “And I’ve
read about them in the papers, too. Very brave, hardy men they are, and
they build the steel framework of the big office buildings--the great,
tall skyscrapers--as well as bridges.
“Now, Tom Moran might have gone clear across the continent, following
his job. Or he might be right around here somewhere. If he’s just one
of the ordinary workmen I suppose he belongs to the union. If he’s
a foreman, or something big in the work, he might not belong to the
union; but they would know his name, just the same.
“Now!” reflected Dorothy. “I don’t believe that asylum matron ever
thought to ask the union, in all these four years little Celia has been
in her care. I’ll look up the local headquarters in the directory, and
write them a nice letter about Tom Moran.
“As for learning where Mrs. Hogan has taken Celia, I’ll inquire of
every farmer I see. Mrs. Hogan’s farm can’t be _very_ far from here.”
Dorothy Dale had come to these conclusions before ever Tavia got into
trouble with Miss Olaine, and been shut up in the dressing-room with
the pigs.
She had, indeed, gone to Mrs. Pangborn’s office immediately after the
recitation hour in which Tavia had fallen into disgrace, to look in the
city directory for the address she wished to discover.
The older pupils were allowed to refer to the school reference books,
and the like, as they chose. Mrs. Pangborn never objected to their
doing so.
Therefore Dorothy’s surprise was the greater when, as she bent over the
book she desired to consult, a harsh voice demanded:
“What are you doing in here, Miss? Is _this_ the place for you at this
hour?”
It was Miss Olaine, and she was grimmer than before. Dorothy was more
than ever sure that she would continually clash with this teacher.
“I was looking for something, Miss Olaine,” the girl said, stiffly.
“Ask permission when you want to come into the office,” snapped the
teacher. “And recitation hour is not the time for idling about. What is
your class, Miss?”
“I have half an hour with Miss Mingle next. But she isn’t ready for
me,” replied Dorothy.
“Humph! that is an extra. You may skip that to-day and go to your next
regular recitation.”
“But my music----”
“_I_ have charge here, Miss Dale. You and your friends would better
understand it. I find the entire first class almost unmanageable.
Aren’t you due at rhetoric and grammar?”
“If Miss Mingle had not called me--yes,” said Dorothy, feeling
revolutionary. Miss Olaine certainly was trying!
“Go to your class, then--at once!” commanded the teacher. “And remember
that while _I_ am in charge of Glenwood School, you girls do not have
free access to this office. Ask permission if you wish to consult any
book here.”
And Dorothy had not found the address she desired! She went out of the
room very angry at heart with Miss Olaine. She was so angry, in fact,
that she felt just like disobeying her flatly!
That was not like sensible Dorothy. To antagonize the teacher would aid
nobody; yet she felt just like doing so.
Instead of mounting the stairs to the classroom in which the present
recitation was under way, and from which she had been excused for her
music lesson, she ran out of the building altogether and went around to
the window of the dressing-room where Tavia was confined.
Tavia must have reached the window by the aid of a stepladder, for it
was quite high from the ground. Now the stepladder had been removed,
the window was closed, and Dorothy was not at first sure that her
friend was still in durance there.
“Tavia!” she called.
It was not until she had spoken the name twice that Tavia’s face
appeared at the pane. Then the girl inside opened the window and smiled
broadly down upon her chum.
“Is the ogress about?” asked Tavia.
“She’s in the office. I just had a flare-up with her,” admitted Dorothy.
“Oh, don’t you get into trouble over _me_, Doro,” begged Tavia. “It
isn’t worth while.”
“What is she going to do with you?”
“Boil me in oil, or some pleasant little pastime like that,” chuckled
Tavia.
“Do be sensible.”
“I can’t. I’m lonesome. They’ve taken away the pigs.”
“Oh, dear me, Tavia! That was a dreadful trick. How did you manage it?”
“Hist! cross your heart? Well, Sammy and I did it. But his father
mustn’t know, for if he does Sammy says he’ll get ‘lambasted’--whatever
_that_ may be.”
“Well, I’m sorry you’re lonesome,” Dorothy said. “But Miss Olaine isn’t
likely to pity you any on that score----”
A window was raised swiftly, and the teacher appeared. She must have
been watching Dorothy from the office, and had come around here to
this side of the building particularly to spy upon her.
“So!” she exclaimed. “You flaunt me, do you, Miss Dale? Didn’t I tell
you to go to your class?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Dorothy. “And I was going----”
“But you will take your own time about it, eh?” snapped the lady. “You
may come in here at once. And tell that other girl to close her window.”
Tavia made a dreadful face and slammed down her window. Of course, Miss
Olaine could not see the grimace.
“Come in here to me at once,” repeated Miss Olaine, and Dorothy obeyed.
The teacher waited for her in the classroom. Dorothy had not felt so
disturbed and angry with a teacher since she and Tavia were little
girls and had got into trouble with Miss Ellis in the old Dalton public
school!
“Now, young lady,” snapped Miss Olaine, “you may go into that room and
remain with your friend until I choose to release you both. And I hope
Mrs. Pangborn will return in season to take the responsibility of your
further punishment off my hands.”
“Gracious!” exclaimed Tavia, quite loud enough for the teacher to
hear, when Dorothy was rudely thrust into the dressing closet by the
shoulders, “she thinks hanging’s too good for us, doesn’t she, Doro?”
But Dorothy was too angry to reply at first. She felt that the new
teacher had gone quite beyond her rights in handling the matter. To
push her into the room so!
“Why,” thought Dorothy, “she might as well have struck me! And Mrs.
Pangborn would not have allowed such a thing. We--we are almost grown
up. It is an insult.”
But she said nothing like this to Tavia. Besides, Tavia had brought
punishment upon her own head in the first place by her practical joke.
At the moment, Dorothy could not see that _she_ was in anyway at fault.
Miss Olaine had just “pounced upon” her, with neither right nor reason
on her side!
“And here we are, shut into this little old room,” croaked Tavia. “Not
even pigs for company.”
“Do be quiet, Tavia,” begged Dorothy. “You’ll have her back--and she’ll
do something worse to us.”
“Here’s some books on the shelf,” said her friend. “Oh, dear! I wish
they were story books. Only old textbooks.”
“All right,” said Dorothy, more cheerfully. “Let’s get up lessons for
to-morrow.”
“That’s no fun!” cried Tavia, objecting.
“But it will help to pass away the time. I’m going to do it,” said
Dorothy, firmly.
“Well--I may as well, too,” said Tavia, sighing.
There was a small table and two chairs. They opened the books and sat
down to study. The noon luncheon hour came and went and nobody came
near the prisoners. Of course, long before this, Tavia had made sure
the door was locked.
“Not even bread and water,” groaned Tavia. “She means to starve us into
subjection, Doro.”
“I wish Mrs. Pangborn would come home,” said Dorothy Dale.
“We’ll be living skeletons before then,” groaned her friend.
But when it grew dark Miss Olaine appeared at the door. She brought a
tray upon which was a small pitcher of skimmed milk, and two slices of
very dry bread.
“Your supper, young ladies--and quite good enough for you,” she
declared. “Mrs. Pangborn will be at home on the midnight train. I have
just received a telegram from her. You shall remain here until she
arrives. Then I shall gladly wash my hands of you.”
“My goodness! she can wash her hands just as soon as she likes, for all
of me,” exclaimed Tavia. “A slice of bread and milk! why, I could eat a
house, I’m so starved!”