ow you were out."

"I cannot come now," answered Viola. "I must go to my room!"

"Is there anything the matter?" inquired Dorothy, kindly.

"Yes," replied Viola, using her regular tactics, that of forcing
Dorothy to make her own conclusions.

"Is your mother worse?"

"I, oh--my head aches so. You must excuse me Dorothy," and at this
Viola burst into tears, another ruse that always worked well with the
sympathetic Dorothy.

The fact was Dorothy had spent a very miserable hour that morning,
after her talk with the president, and she had finally decided to put
the whole thing to Viola, to ask her for a straight-forward
explanation, and to oblige her to give it. But now Viola was in
trouble--Dorothy had no idea that the trouble was a matter of temper,
and of course her mother must be worse, thought Dorothy. How glad she
was, after all, that she did make the sacrifice! It was much easier
for her to stand it than to crush Viola with any more grief!

Crush her indeed! It takes more than the mere words of a just school
teacher and more than the pale face of a persecuted girl to crush such
a character as that which Viola Green was lately cultivating.

And as Viola turned into her room she determined never to apologize to
Miss Higley. She would leave Glenwood first.

Meanwhile what different sentiments were struggling in Dorothy's heart?
She had bathed her face, and would go into the classroom. She might be
in time for some work, and now there was no use in wasting time over
the trouble. She would never mention it to Viola, that poor girl had
enough to worry her. Neither would she try to right it in any way.
After all, Mrs. Pangborn believed in her, so did Edna and Molly, and a
letter from home that morning told of the recovery of Tavia's mother.
Perhaps Tavia would be back to school soon. It might be hard to meet
the scornful looks of the other girls, but it could not possibly be as
hard as what Viola had to bear.

So thought our dear Little Captain, she who was ever ready to take upon
her young and frail shoulders the burdens of others.

But such virtue plainly has its own reward--Dorothy Dale entered the
classroom at eleven o'clock that morning, with peace in her heart.
Viola Green was out of the school room and was fighting the greatest
enemies of her life--Pride, mingled with Jealousy.

It had been that from the first, from the very first moment she set her
eyes on Dorothy Dale, whose beautiful face