ir adventures, the Dalton girls marched in the
center of the middle row--everyone wanted to hear, and everyone wanted
to be just as near as possible to Tavia and Dorothy.

Taking refuge under the cliff seemed exciting enough, but when Dorothy
told how they had lost the trail to the mountain top, and how all the
footing slipped down as they tried to make the ascent, the girls were
spell-bound. Then to hear Tavia describe, in her own inimitable way,
the call of "the witch"--made some shout, ad the entire party ran along
as if the same "witch" was at their heels.

When the report was made to Mrs. Pangborn, that dignified lady looked
very seriously at Dorothy and Tavia. Miss Crane had explained the
entire affair, making it clear that the girls became separated from the
others by the merest accident, and that the storm did the rest.

"But you must remember, my dears," said Mrs. Pangborn kindly, "that, as
boarding school girls, you should always keep near to the teacher in
charge even when taking walks across the country. It is not at all
safe to wander about as you would at home. Nor can a girl depend upon
her own judgment in asking strangers to direct her. Sometimes
thoughtless boys delight in sending the girls out of their way. I am
glad the affair has ended without further trouble. You must have
suffered when you found you really could not reach your companions.
Let it be a lesson to all of you."

"Oh, if Miss Higley had been in charge," whispered Edna, when the girls
rehearsed their interview with Mrs. Pangborn. "You would not have
gotten off so easily. She would have said you ran away from us."

So the days at Glenwood gently lapped over the quiet nights, until week
after week marked events of more or less importance in the lives of
those who had given themselves to what learning may be obtained from
books; what influence may be gained from close companionship with those
who might serve as models; and what fun might be smuggled in between
the lines, always against the rules, but never in actual defiance of a
single principle of the old New England institution.

"Just the by-laws," the girls would declare. "We can always suspend
them, as long as we do not touch the constitution."

This meant, of course, that innocent, harmless fun was always
permissible when no one suffered by the pranks, and no damage was done
to property or character.

Rose-Mary Markin had become Dorothy's intimate friend. She was wh