Mrs. Winthrop White was talking earnestly to her brother, Major Dale. She had come in from the Cedars² the morning after the memorable³ ride in the Fire-Bird, and was now in the major's study, discussing the situation with Dorothy's father.  
"But the child has had so many shocks lately, brother," said Mrs. White. "It does seem the only practical plan is to remove her entirely⁴ from these surroundings. Of course, it will be hard for you to let her go away, but you must remember, Dorothy has always been a little over-strained with care for one of her years, and now that your means will allow it, she should have every possible advantage to make up for what she may have lost in the way of nerve force."
 
"Oh, I am sure you know, sister," replied the major, "I would not deprive the child of anything she should have, no matter what it cost me, in money or—the loss of her company. She has certainly been my Little Captain, for I can always depend upon her to keep the young troopers in line—"
 
"But why remain here at all? You can give up business now. Do, brother, come and make your home with me. I really need you so often, when I have no one to advise with about the boys. And Joe and Roger would be so much better off with me to look after them. Mrs. Martin has done wonderfully well for her years, but she is no longer able to see to them properly. Just give up this place and come to the Cedars," urged Mrs. White.
 
"I would not know how to leave dear old Dalton or my newspaper," mused⁵ the major. "Of course you are very good to think of bothering with another family. Most women think one family enough to bring up."
 
"Indeed, I need something to do," argued the sister, "and Roger would be a perfect treat to me. He is such a darling. Joe will go to school, of course (already taking it for granted that her invitation would be accepted), but I would have Roger taught at home for this year. He is too young to mix up with all the others."
 
"I am sure it would be good for the children—"
 
"And for yourself! Why, you are not too old to enjoy your life. The idea of a man of less than fifty years, considering himself old," and Mrs. White laughed in that captivating manner of hers, that had so often won her cause when all other arguments failed. "And that school you speak of for Dorothy, the one in the mountains of New England, what did you call it?"
 
"The Glenwood School," replied the major. "Mrs. Pangborn, who conducts it, is an old friend of mine, and if I should trust Dorothy with anyone it would be with Louise Pangborn, for she knew Dorothy's mother and would be sure to take an interest in her daughter."
 
"The very thing! Capital!" exclaimed Mrs. White enthusiastically. "We must make arrangements at once. There is little time left before the term opens. Dear me, brother, some women may like to idle, but give me a girl to dress up for school! Perhaps because I have never had the joy for doing it for my own daughter, I so love to take up Dorothy and experiment on her. No girl at school shall be better equipped than Dorothy Dale—"
 
"Now take care, sister. We are plain folks, you know."
 
"Not one whit¹ plainer than your sister Ruth. I shall only get Dorothy things that befit her station, in fact the best dressed girls do not, by any means have more clothes than others. They simply have what is needed."
 
"Oh, I know! I know I can depend upon you, Ruth. Only I also know you think Dorothy—"
 
"A wonderfully pretty and attractive girl, and one who must wear the right kind of clothes. There, I feel I am looking through the shops now. I must admit I have a weakness for pretty things, whether girls or their dresses."
 
"Strange I should have so lately received a letter from Mrs. Pangborn inquiring about Dorothy," remarked the major. "I have it some place," and he pulled a packet of papers from his desk, soon finding the one wanted. "There," he went on, glancing over the missive, "Louise says she has now two assistants, a Miss Crane and a Miss Higley."
 
"Might I see the letter?" asked Mrs. White, already assuming the mother part toward Dorothy, and feeling it her duty to know all she might be able to find out concerning the woman to whom Dorothy would be entrusted⁶.
 
"Why, certainly," replied the major, handing her the letter. She glanced over the paper. "There," she said presently, smiling. "I fancy I see Miss Crane, whom Mrs. Pangborn describes as being such a favorite with the girls. And the other, Miss Higley—her name is enough. She must be the sort of teacher who does good work in classes, but seems to put a damper on the girls' pranks⁷. Of course, such a person is always valuable in a boarding school," and she handed back the paper, "but what a lot of trouble they can make! I went to a boarding school myself, you know, and I know and remember all about the Miss Higleys."
 
"Then you think it would be a good plan to send Dorothy to Glenwood?" and the major's voice showed that he looked favorably upon the proposition.
 
"Glenwood School, in the mountains of New England! I can see the tags on Dorothy's trunks," she replied merrily. "Nothing could be better. And that splendid mountain air! Why, you won't know the child when she comes home for her holiday. But I am going to write this very morning. Or will you do it? And I will write in reply to the next. Yes, I think that would be better. And now I am going right up to Dorothy and tell her all about it. The child had such a headache from her experiences yesterday that I insisted upon her lying down. Wasn't that the most absurd thing for those children to ride to town in the police patrol? The boys will never stop talking of it. And Tavia Travers thinks it the joke of her life. But Dorothy is not keen on that sort of jokes. She does not relish⁸ the curiosity which the incident has stirred up. I could see that this morning, when those school friends were talking it over with her."
 
"Dorothy is a very sensitive girl."
 
"All fine natures are sensitive, Allen. They neither offend nor relish being offended. It is perfectly⁹ natural that the child should resent such remarks as some of those I have heard passed about the patrol ride."
 
"Of course they only came from children," apologized the major, "and youngsters will have their say."
 
"Yes, but sometimes the 'say' of jealous young girls may go a long way. A jealous girl is, I believe, even a more dangerous enemy than a woman scorned, about whom so much is written and said. But I am sure Dorothy can hold her own in spite of any girl."
 
Why had Mrs. White been so apprehensive¹⁰ about the small talk she had overheard? What could any one say against Dorothy Dale?
 
That afternoon a school friend called on Dorothy and brought with her a young girl who had been spending part of her vacation at the MacAllister home. She was introduced as Miss Viola Green of Dunham, and while rather a pretty girl she had something in her manner that made Dorothy feel uncomfortable. This unaccountable dislike on Dorothy's part was heightened when Tavia went over to the veranda¹¹ where the girls were sitting, and upon Alice introducing Tavia to her friend the latter merely bowed stiffly, and refused to accept the hand that Tavia had offered in greeting. This was all the more strange since Alice was so splendid a girl herself.
 
But Viola Green had made a serious mistake in refusing to accept the honest hand of Tavia Travers, although strange to say the incident was a most fortunate happening, as far as Tavia and Dorothy were concerned—it told them the kind of girl Viola was. Alice, seeing the slight, winked¹² slyly at Tavia, who, after flushing furiously, managed to return the secret sign of Alice by snapping her own brown eye open and shut.
 
"I simply thought I should die," began Alice, anxious to start conversation. "When I saw you step out of that wagon¹³ last night. Viola and I were just down to the post-office and when the crowd gathered of course, we had to see what was going on. Well, when I saw Tavia—"
 
A burst of laughter stopped Alice. She had a way of seeing humor in things and of enjoying the process of extracting it. Tavia joined her in the merriment, but Viola sat there with a curled lip. Dorothy was not laughing either—she was observing the stranger.
 
"Wasn't it great!" exclaimed Tavia. "I wish you could have been along. Dorothy was scared to death, but the very idea of any one being afraid while surrounded by four strapping¹⁴ policemen!"
 
"And when your cousin came into the post-office to send his telegram—to his mother, wasn't it? And we beheld—a dude in overalls¹⁵ and jumper!" and Alice laughed again. "Really," she continued, finally, "I thought I should pass away!"
 
"Was that your cousin?" asked Viola unpleasantly.
 
"Why, Ola," exclaimed Alice, the ring of something like anger in her voice, "I certainly told you the young man was Mr. Nat White from North Birchland, Dorothy's cousin."
 
"Oh," sniffed¹⁶ the other. "I am sure I thought you said he was Tavia's cousin."
 
"That's good," chimed in Tavia. "Wish he was; he would make all kinds of nice cousins, for he is the dandiest boy—"
 
"So!" almost sneered¹⁷ Viola.
 
"Yes, that's so," declared Tavia, with a challenging look at the stranger.
 
"Viola thinks nice boys should not be cousins," remarked Alice, trying to patch up the squabble. But Dorothy had risen from her seat and was toying with the honeysuckle. Evidently she had no intention of joining in the unpleasant argument.
 
"I declare, Doro," said Alice suddenly. "I have scarcely heard your voice to-day. And all the stories that I have been contradicting about you. That you were hurt in an auto¹⁸ accident; that your chauffeur¹⁹ was arrested for speeding and you were obliged to go to police court to make a statement; that some lunatic chased you, and you had to get in the wagon to save your life—Oh! I tell you, Doro, you never know how popular you are until you take a ride in the 'hurry up' wagon. I would have given my new dog (and I love him dearly) to have been in that tally-ho with you," and Alice threw her arms about Dorothy, whose face, she could not help observing, was white and strained.
 
"It certainly was an experience," admitted Dorothy, joining the group again.
 
"But what in the world makes you act like such a funeral?" Alice blurted²⁰ out.
 
"I have just heard something that makes me serious," answered Dorothy. "I may as well tell you now. I am going away to boarding school!"
 
"This term?" exclaimed Viola, before either Alice or Tavia had time to speak.
 
"Certainly," replied Dorothy coolly. "Why not?"
 
"Oh, nothing, of course," returned Viola, "Only after yesterday folks might think—oh, you know country folks can never understand the trick of deciding things quickly. You had not thought of it—of going away before, had you?"
 
Dorothy was too indignant to speak. What ever could the girl mean by such insinuations? Even Alice seemed dumbfounded, and Tavia positively²¹ dangerous. She walked straight up to the chair Viola occupied.
 
"Miss Green," she called. "'After yesterday,' as you express it, is precisely²² the same as before yesterday, to all concerned. The experiences were unusual—"
 
"I should think so—" the stranger had the temerity²³ to remark, but Alice had risen to go, while Viola stepped down from the porch, without offering a word of apology or explanation. "And where are you going, Dorothy dear?" asked Alice tenderly, trying to undo²⁴ the harm that her visitor had been so successful in creating.
 
"To the Glenwood School, in the mountains of New England, I believe," answered Dorothy.
 
"Indeed?" spoke²⁵ up Miss Green again. "That is where I attend. How strange we should meet just before the term opens," and she smiled that same unpleasant smile that had chilled Dorothy when Alice introduced them.
 
"You do!" exclaimed Tavia rather rudely. Then she added: "Dorothy Dale, who told you you could go away to school? You have not asked my permission yet. To the mountains of New England! I would like to see you run away and leave me!"
 
"It would be unpleasant indeed!" called back Viola. "You had better come to Glenwood too!"
 
"Maybe I will," snapped Tavia. "One thing is certain. Dorothy Dale will have friends whereever she goes and if I could go, I would be most happy to look on while she reaps her new conquests. Dorothy is a regular winner, Miss Green. You will have to look out if she goes to Glenwood. She will cut you out with your best friends. She always makes one fell swoop²⁶ of the entire outfit²⁷!"
 
A look of deep scorn was the answer Viola made to Tavia's attempt at raillery. Evidently she had made up her mind that Dorothy Dale would never "cut her out" at Glenwood.
 
And Mrs. White had remarked to her brother, Major Dale, that a jealous girl was a dangerous enemy!