The first days at Glenwood revolved¹ like a magic kaleidoscope—all bits of brilliant things, nothing tangible², and nothing seemingly important. Dorothy had made her usual good friends—Tavia her usual jolly chums. But Viola Green remained a mystery.  
She certainly had avoided speaking to Dorothy, and had not even taken the trouble to avoid Tavia—she "cut her dead." Edna tried to persuade Tavia that "Fiddle³" was a privileged character, and that the seeming slights were not fully⁴ intended; but Tavia knew better.
 
"She may be as odd as she likes," insisted the matter of fact girl from Dalton, "but she must not expect me to smile at her ugliness—it is nothing else—pure ugliness."
 
Dorothy had sought out Viola, but it was now plain that the girl purposely avoided her.
 
"Perhaps she is worrying about her mother, poor dear," thought the sympathetic Dorothy. "I must insist on cheering her up. A nice walk through these lovely grounds ought to brighten her. And the leaves on these hills are perfectly⁵ glorious. I must ask her to go with me on my morning walk. I'll go to her room to-night after tea—during recreation. I have not seen her out a single morning yet."
 
So Dorothy mused⁶, and so she acted according to the logical result of that musing⁷. At recreation time that evening Dorothy tapped gently on the door of Number Twelve.
 
The door was slightly ajar, and Dorothy could hear the sounds of papers being hastily gathered up. Then Viola came to the entrance.
 
"May I come in?" asked Dorothy, surprised that Viola should have made the question necessary.
 
"Oh, I am so busy—but of course—Did you want to see me?" and there was no invitation in the voice or manner.
 
"Just for a moment," faltered⁸ Dorothy, determined⁹ not to be turned away without a hearing.
 
Viola reluctantly opened the door. Then she stepped aside without offering a chair.
 
"I have been worried about you," began Dorothy, rather miserably¹⁰. "Are you ill, Viola?"
 
"111? Why not at all. Can't a girl attend to her studies without exciting criticism?"
 
Dorothy's face burned. "Oh, of course. But I did not see you out at all—"
 
"Next time I leave my room I'll send the Nicks word," snapped Viola. "Then they may appoint a committee to see me out!"
 
Dorothy was stung by this. She had expected that Viola would resent the interference—try to keep to her chosen solitude—but the rudeness was a surprise.
 
"But you are getting pale, Viola," she ventured. "Couldn't you possibly take your exercise with me to-morrow? I would so like to have you. The walk over the mountains is perfectly splendid now."
 
"Thank you," and Viola's black eyes again looked out of their depths with that strange foreign keenness. "But I prefer to walk alone."
 
Dorothy was certain a tear glistened¹¹ in Viola's eye.
 
"Alone!" repeated the visitor. "Viola, dear, if you would only let me be your friend—"
 
"Dorothy Dale!" and the girl's eyes flashed in anger. "I will have none of your preaching. You came here to pry¹² into my affairs just as you did on the train, when you made me tell all about my dear, darling mother's illness, before those giggling¹³ girls. Yes, you need not play innocent. I know the kind of girl you are. 'Sugar coated!' But you may take your sympathy where strangers will be fooled by it. Try it on some of the Babes. But you must never again attempt to meddle¹⁵ in my affairs. If you do I'll tell Miss Higley. So there! Are you satisfied now?"
 
Dorothy was stunned¹⁶. Was this flaming, flashing girl the same that had smiled upon her when the sick mother was present? What was that strange unnatural¹⁷ gleam in the black eyes? Anger or jealousy¹⁸?
 
"I am sorry," faltered Dorothy; then she turned and left the room.
 
One hour later Tavia found Dorothy buried in her pillows. Tears would still come to her eyes, although she had struggled bravely to suppress them.
 
"Doro!" exclaimed her friend in surprise. "Are you homesick?"
 
"No," sobbed¹⁹ the miserable²⁰ girl. "It isn't exactly homesick—." Then the thought came to her that she should not implicate²¹ Viola, she had promised to save her from further suffering. Su............