It did look strange. Dorothy had gone out before any of her companions were about, and now, after being away two hours she was found returning in the company of a young man.

It might have been different if Tavia, and the girls who had met Mr. Armstrong on the train, had chosen to go toward the depot instead of seeking Dorothy in the opposite direction; but when Jean Faval met her, there were with Jean three of the new girls, and of course, they neither knew Dorothy nor her companion.

Small things grow quickly when they have plenty of room, and Dorothy’s escapade, being the one thing worth talking of at Glenwood, soon amounted to a sensational story, fanned by the gossips and nurtured by her rival in the school.

What girl has gone through school without some such similar experience? And does it not always occur at the most unexpected times?

Are there always, and everywhere, “school rivals?” Mr. Armstrong said good-bye to Dorothy at the tanbark path that led to Glenwood Hall. Excited over her strange experience, Dorothy had no thought of what others might wonder! Where had she been? Why did she leave the grounds so early? What was Dorothy worrying about?

“See here, Doro,” Tavia confronted her, as together they prepared for breakfast—late at that. “What ails you? You promised to tell me to-day.”

“What ailed me, Tavia, does not exactly ail me now. I have just learned how some girls have to make a living.”

Saying this Dorothy sank back, rather unlike herself, for the morning had been warm, and her duties anything but refreshing.

“Dorothy, tell me, what is it?” demanded Tavia.

“You look at me as if I were a criminal,” replied the blonde Dalton girl. “I can never be coerced,” she finished.

“Dorothy, you are so unlike yourself. And you have no idea how much trouble that Jean Faval can make,” insisted Tavia, with more spirit than she usually showed.

Dorothy stopped in her hair-fixing. “Tavia,” she said, emphatically, “I have friends enough here,” and she glanced at the school-girl picture-lined wall, “and I am not afraid of Jean Faval.” Dorothy was always pretty, sometimes splendid, and again tragic—Tavia decided she was one in all at that moment.

“Good!” declared her champion. “Don’t worry, Dorothy, but if you could just tell me——”

Dorothy stopped and looked into the glass without seeing anything.

She was worried, but since she had tried to run a lunch room, and had discovered how hard some girls, as young as herself, had to work, the thought that some day she too, might have to do something to earn money, did not seem so appalling. Should she tell Tavia?

“I am waiting, Doro,” Tavia said. “Now confess.”

“It’s really nothing so very serious, dear,” she replied, “but you know father is getting old and—he has put all his money into the Marsall Investment Company, of New York. Just before I left home father heard—that the money may be—lost!”

“All your money?”

“Yes, isn’t that dreadful? Of course, if it is lost we could never live with Aunt Winnie. We would be too proud, although she and the boys have always been so lovely to us. Yet to have no home makes it different.”

“But, Dorothy, I can’t believe that will happen. Your father has always been so wise,” and Tavia smoothed the ribbon on Dorothy’s light hair. “If it should happen——”

“If it should, I would certainly go to work,” Dorothy declared, firmly. “I should never let Joe leave school, and stay on here myself. Besides, Joe could not do very much,” she sighed. “I am so afraid for father—afraid the crash would——”

“Now, Doro, it is not like you to plan trouble,” Tavia interrupted, “so let us forget it. I am afraid you will have some queer eyes made at you when you go down to breakfast,” Tavia finished.

“It certainly was rather an unfortunate start for the first morning,” Dorothy agreed. “But, Tavia, I wish you could have seen me. If Mr. Armstrong had not just come along then, I would have run away, and left the whole place to those greedy men. I could not have stood it five minutes longer.”

“It must have been funny. I’ll have to take my lunch down there some early morning. Maybe another nice Mr. Armstrong might come along. But say, Doro, did you hear about the hall table candy?”

“No; what happened to it?”

“It seems that Jean got it mixed up in her satchel with some hair tonic that leaked from a bottle. She says she left it on the table, because there was no scrap basket there—in the hall, and she didn’t know where to put it. When I took the hair tonic-soaked candy away Jean declares she thought one of the maids had thrown it out, as you could easily smell the hair tonic. I didn’t smell it, neither did Ned, but there was quite a time about it, as Jean got worried when she thought it over. That was why she came out the second time. But then they were gone—perhaps some of the girls took them. You never heard so much talk over a little spill of hair tonic.”

“Did Jean ask Mrs. Pangborn about it?”

“Of course, and Mrs. Pangborn was more frightened than Jean, for she said the stuff might have a poison in it. Now everyone is waiting to see who will drop dead,” and Tavia laughed as if such an occurrence would be very funny.

“Let’s hurry. We will get the second table now, and it’s such a beautiful day to be out,” Dorothy said. “I feel better, really, for having told you about my worries. Perhaps I will get a letter with good news.”

“I hope so. But let me tell you something. If we really need money I’ll advertise the little dog. Jake says he’s a thoroughbred.”

“He may be some child’s pet, and you ought to advertise him, anyhow,” Dorothy said. “There are Cologne and Edna. They have finished.” They stopped at the door of the breakfast room.

“Oh you little runaway!” exclaimed Cologne to Dorothy. “We thought you were on your honeymoon by this time.”

“That was a neat trick,” Edna added jokingly, “to go out before daylight, and come back with such a yarn! You ought to hear what the girls are saying about you!”

“Let’s eat, at any rate,” Tavia suggested. “I’m starved!”

“Didn’t happen to see anyone taken sick yet; did you?” asked Edna. “I hope the medicine fell into the other camp. You know Jean is already organizing.”

As Tavia and Dorothy entered the room Jean Faval and several girls passed out. Some of them said good morning, and some of them did not. But Jean was heard to remark something about “cooks and classes.”

“She means the lunch wagon,” Dorothy whispered to Tavia.

“She’s mean enough to mean anything,” replied Tavia. “I can’t see why she has such a grudge against you, Doro.”

“Never mind. We can get our club together and then our rivals may club by themselves,” said Dorothy. As they finished breakfast, a waitress handed Dorothy a note.

“Mrs. Pangborn wants to see me,” said Dorothy, rising.

Then Tavia’s hope, that the morning’s gossip had escaped the ears of the school principal, vanished.

“Don’t mind if she asks queer questions,” Tavia remarked, as Dorothy left. “You know those new girls have to be kept busy.”