t through! But I was about to say that
Viola is not mean to all strangers. Did you see the way she went for
Nat?"

"Well, we must not make trouble by going out of our way to meet it,"
preached Dorothy. "Viola may not have a chance to bother us at
Glenwood, even if she cared to try."

"Chance! You can depend upon her to make all the chance she wants.
But I have my defense all mapped out. I am certain she will try to
disgrace us with the patrol story."

"What disgrace could she make out of that?" asked Dorothy in surprise.

"Don't know, haven't the least idea, only I fancy she will fix
something up. But I'll give her 'a run for her money,' as the boys
say," and Tavia displayed something of the defense she had "mapped out"
in a decidedly vindictive attitude. Packing of trunks and doing up of
girls' belongings made the time fly, so that when the morning of the
actual departure did arrive both girls felt as if something important
must have been overlooked, there was so much hurry and flurry. But the
train puffed off at last, with Dorothy Dale and Octavia Travers
passengers for the little place called Glenwood, situated away off in
the New England mountains.

Major Dale felt lonely indeed when his Little Captain had kissed the
two boys--her soldiers--good-bye, and, when she pressed her warm cheek
to his own anxious face, it did seem as if a great big slice of
sunshine had suddenly darted under a heavy black cloud. But it was
best she should go, he reflected, and they must get along without her.

Tavia's folks were conscious of similar sentiments. The squire, her
father, and her little brother Johnnie went to the station to see the
girls off, and Johnnie felt so badly that he actually refused to go
fishing with Joe Dale, an opportunity he would have "jumped at" under
any other circumstances. Roger Dale had rubbed his pretty eyes almost
sightless trying not to cry and listening to Aunt Libby's oft-told
story that had never yet failed to heal a wound of the baby's heart,
but he surely did not want Doro to go, and he surely would cry every
single night when she did not come to kiss him.

"I just do want her," he blubbered on the newly-ironed gingham apron
that Aunt Libby buried his sweet face in, "and I don't love Auntie
Winnie for taking her away."

So the Dalton home was left behind.

"I wish we did not have to change so often," said Dorothy to Tavia,
when she had finally dried her eyes and looked around w