"No; they were going out on the other side, where they had just left Miss Stephens, because _that_ was the way they would take to go straight to Miss Marr's. Don't you see? Ray Armitage's cunning! Now, if _we_ go out on this side, and take the elevated, we shall get ahead of them, and--"

"Well, I just sha'n't do anything of the kind! I'd like to see myself playing private policeman like that! If the girl is such a blooming idiot as this, she won't pay any attention to you! No, I guess I don't try any such missionary work, to be laughed at by all the fellows in town."

"Laughed at!" A glance upward as she said this, and Kate caught the grin on Peter Van Loon's face, and burst forth: "Oh, that's all your manliness is worth! You're afraid,--afraid some other selfish fellows will laugh at you for doing your duty."

"'Tisn't _my duty_!"

"No, it isn't, Kate; he's right."

Kate turned about in astonishment, for it was Hope who had spoken, and Hope who went on speaking,--

"And _you_--_you_ ought not to go, Kate; Dorothea would--would--"

"Be madder than ever. But what _can_ be done?"

"_I'll_ go."

"_You?_"

"Yes, with Mrs. Sibley. I've just caught sight of her; see, she is over there talking to Johnny. If I tell her how it is--what I want to do, she'll understand, she'll be glad to help; and Dorothea will listen to her, when she wouldn't to you or to me, I dare say."

"Well, that's a much more sensible plan than yours, Kate," commented Schuyler Van der Berg, as Hope darted off; "but all the same it's my opinion that Miss Dorothea Dering isn't going to be kept from that matinee performance, even if they catch her in time."

"Which they won't," spoke up Peter, as he looked at his watch.

CHAPTER XX.

And Peter was right; for, as Mrs. Sibley and Hope neared the theatre, they saw Dorothea's nodding plumes just disappearing through the wide open doorway.

"And we're too late," cried Hope,--"too late, after all."

"Too late to try to prevent the girl from going into the theatre,--yes, and I thought we should be when we started; there had been too much time lost before you spoke to me. We should have taken the car that preceded the one that we came in; but I doubt if it would have done any good if we _had_ been earlier. But I'll tell you what we'll do now. We'll go in to the matinee ourselves. Miss Marr," smiling down at Hope, "would be perfectly willing that you should go under my chaperonage."

"Oh, yes, yes, of course."

"You see, in doing this, we may be able to help this foolish girl, after all, by taking her home under our escort, after the matinee is over. She will hurry out, naturally, to get home before dark, and I am sure even such a harum-scarum creature will see that it is wiser for her to go back to Miss Marr's in our company than with young Armitage."

"Mrs. Sibley, you don't think it is wrong, do you, for us to keep all this from Miss Marr,--to go on covering everything up from her while we try to get Dorothea out--out of all these queer ways of hers? It makes me feel as if--as if there might be something sly and underhand in going on like this,--something like being disloyal to Miss Marr, and deceiving her."

"You needn't worry about that, my dear. I know Angelique Marr, and I am sure it would be a relief to her to have Dorothea helped out of her queer ways, as you put it, by girls like you and Kate. Miss Marr knows perfectly well that a _teacher's_ opposition wouldn't influence a girl like Dorothea favorably,--that it would be more likely to rouse a counter opposition. It is only girls of her own age who would be likely to influence her; and so, knowing this, the teacher has to be silent a good many times when she may suspect things that she would _like_ to oppose; then, when the flagrant offence is forced upon her, there would be no alternative but to see that the offender was punished according to the stated rules of the school government, if the school itself was to be respected and to maintain its position."

Greatly comforted by these words, Hope followed Mrs. Sibley into the theatre. There had been no difficulty, even at this late moment, in obtaining very good back seats,--seats from which one could command an excellent view of the audience, if not of the stage; and Hope at once began a careful survey of this audience, her far-seeing young eyes roving rapidly from section to section in keen investigation. She was suddenly interrupted in this investigation by a whisper from Mrs.

Sibley.

"Aren't you looking too far down in front? Isn't that the girl?"

"Where?"

"Two rows in front of us, to the right."

Hope looked in the direction indicated; and there, two rows in front, to the right, sure enough, was Dorothea.

She was laughing and whispering with her companion, evidently in the gayest spirits; and Hope's heart sank within her at the thought of what she had undertaken, as she caught sight of her. Why, oh, why, had she been so rash as to think of interfering with this girl in any way? For, as she regarded her there, she felt sure that she would look upon their suggestion of taking her home as an interference, to be resented and rejected. "Even such a harum-scarum creature will see that it is wiser for her to go back to Miss Marr in our company than with young Armitage," Mrs. Sibley had confidently declared. But Mrs. Sibley didn't know Dorothea, Hope now reflected, as there came crowding up to her, at the sight of that handsome, arrogant face, all her own bitter knowledge of her. And with this knowledge, why--why had she been so rash? And to have brought kind, sweet Mrs. Sibley here to be, perhaps, insulted; for if Dorothea _did_ resent their suggestion, she wouldn't hesitate to express herself with her usual freedom. For a moment, overcome by all these thoughts, poor Hope had a mind to say to Mrs. Sibley: "Our plan won't be of the slightest use. Dorothea won't accept our offer, and we might as well give it up." The next moment, ashamed of her cowardice, she said to herself: "How can I be so mean? It's my duty to go ahead and try to carry out what I've undertaken. If I fail--if Dorothea does turn upon me, I must bear it,--that's all."

And with this resolve, she directed her attention to the stage. It was only when the curtain fell after the first act that she glanced again towards the pair to the right. She was just in time to see Mr. Raymond Armitage bowing with effusion to a party of ladies several seats in front; and then, evidently with a word of explanation and excuse to Dorothea, he jumped up and went forward to speak to them. The youngest of the party was a very elegant young woman, whose notice seemed to be much appreciated by Mr. Raymond Armitage, as he bent before her. The other ladies, too, were apparently of consequence to him. But when Hope saw him linger beyond the moment of greeting, her glance wandered back to Dorothea. What did Dorothea think of being left to herself like this by her fine escort? There might be the excuse of some message or other, for his leaving her for a moment, but to linger moment by moment _for his own pleasure_,--yes, that was it,--how would Miss Dorothea take this? A sudden turn of her head showed Hope pretty plainly how she took it, for in place of the gay satisfaction that had made her face radiant, there was a very unmistakable look of astonishment and mortification.

Mrs. Sibley, who had also been observant of this little by-play, here whispered to Hope,--

"How rude to leave her like that!"

"And how mortified she is--look!" responded Hope.

Several times after this they saw him make a movement as if to return to his place, but each time some word addressed to him by one of the ladies would be enough to detain him. When finally he did return, the orchestra was playing the last of its selections before the rising of the curtain again. That he was profuse in his apologies, the two interested observers could plainly perceive. They could also perceive that Dorothea was by no means disposed to accept these apologies in a benignant spirit. At last, however, he seemed to make his peace in a measure, for a half smile began to hover about Dorothea's lips, and by the time the curtain had risen again, and the merry little play that was on the boards was again making everybody laugh, Dorothea was joining in the laugh as heartily as any one. The play ended in a little whirlwind of applause. In the midst of this, Mrs. Sibley noticed that young Armitage was hurrying his companion off in great haste, and whispered to Hope,--

"They are hurrying probably to catch the next car; and if we go put at once by the right aisle, we shall meet them face to face, and it will be quite easy for you then to propose to take Dorothea with us. She _must_ see the point,--that it is much better for her to go back to Miss Marr's in our company, and be glad of the opportunity we offer her."

Hope nodded a.s.sent; but her heart quaked, as she followed Mrs. Sibley through the pa.s.sages between the seats, and fancied that moment when she should meet Dorothea face to face and see her stare of astonishment, and then, oh, then, hear, perhaps, her scornful rejection of the opportunity offered her! But they were not to meet Dorothea face to face as they came out on that right aisle. A little delay in pushing through brought them behind instead of in front of the pair, and--

"No, I thank you, I can find the car by myself!" were the words that they heard on that instant; and the tone in which these words were delivered was sharp and angry, not the tone of friendly agreement.

Evidently young Armitage had not waited for his companion to suggest that she had better return without his escort to Miss Marr's door, and evidently Dorothea had resented the fact that the suggestion had come from him.

"But you ought not to be angry with me," they heard him protest. "I shouldn't think of letting you go alone if it wasn't better for you. The car is on the line of your street, and you might meet--might meet--one of your teachers, you know, and that would make trouble for you. It's just to help you that I--"

"Oh, really, it's a pity you didn't think of this earlier before you said we would go back by the other line, where we shouldn't run the risk of meeting the teachers."

"Yes, I know; but as I have come to think it over, I see that the other cars will keep you out so much longer, I thought you would rather--"

"As you have come to think it over _since you met your friends_, you see that it will be more convenient for you not to take up the time by going round by the other line. Perhaps your friends want you to find _their_ car for them. Anyway, whatever engagement you've made with them, don't keep them waiting for _me_; I can find _my_ car by myself, as I said."

"Miss Dering!" in an expostulating tone, "I haven't made any engagement to hurry me away; I'm only going to dine at the Waldorf by and by with these friends,--they're Washington friends of my mother and Bessie,--but I needn't hurry, not the least, and of course I shall take you home by the other line if you like that best."

"But I don't like it best--_now_. I--I--"

Hope here caught sight of Dorothea's face,--the quivering lips, the eyes that were striving against tears,--and obeying a swift, warm impulse of pity and sympathy, forgot her fears in it, and called out softly,--

"Dorothea! Dorothea!"

Dorothea turned a startled glance behind her at this call. Then, "What!

_you_ here, Hope?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, with Mrs. Sibley."

"Oh, and you're going straight home--to Miss Marr's? Mrs. Sibley is to take you?" stepping back to Hope's side.

"Yes."