“I must go home,” she said dejectedly.  “Dad said I should be home by noon to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XIX

BETWEEN THE LINES

When Tavia had left her, Dorothy felt utterly helpless in facing the problems that now confronted her.

“One thing is certain,” Dorothy told herself.  “Tavia must not go home.  In her state of mind, and with her temper, there is no telling what she might do—­leave home, or something else dreadful.  If I could only see Squire Travers first,” she argued, “I am sure I could manage it some way.”

“But I cannot possibly go to Dalton now,” she decided, “with Ned sick, and the play to-morrow night.

“And how can I persuade Tavia not to go?  I suppose she has her bag packed already.”

Dorothy seemed incapable of reasoning further.  She threw herself down on her bed and gazed fixedly at the ceiling, as if expecting some inspiration to come from the dainty blue and gold papering.

How long she lay there she had no idea of computing—­it was not now a question of time, although the night must be far advanced, but to the perplexed girl everything about her seemed to surge in one great sea of difficulties.

She jumped up suddenly.

“I wonder how Ned is?” she thought.  “If only he is not seriously hurt.  The doctor said if he slept, and no fever arose, he would do well.  I wonder how I can find out.  I might slip downstairs and listen.”

She drew her heavy blue robe around her, put on her slippers and softly opened the door.  There was no light in the upper hall, and a turn from the first flight of stairs hid the dim light below.  Directly at this turn a push-button connected with an electric drop lamp, and this button Dorothy touched as she passed.

At the broad window-seat she hesitated for a moment, looked out at the clear, wintry night, and then slipped down the stairs so lightly that even the cushioned velvet carpet took no impress of her footfall.

At the last step she stopped—­a terrible fear clutched her heart.  The library door was open, but no sound came from the room.

She clung to the broad post and listened.  Could Ned be worse?  Then the chime of the hall clock startled her.  It was just midnight!  Dorothy had no idea it was so very late.

She would just go to the library door—­

Involuntarily she turned toward the vestibule.  A strange sensation of some one watching her from without possessed her, terrified her, and at the same instant a light tap sounded upon the plate-glass door.

Some one was watching her!

For the moment Dorothy could not move or utter a sound.  Then the thought of her sick cousin brought her back to a realization of the emergency.  She must answer the knock and not arouse any one.

Summoning all her self-control Dorothy moved toward the front door.  Only the glass and a thin lace drapery separated her from without, as the storm door had been left open.  Some one stood within the small entrance hall—­the shadow was clearly outlined.