“I know. She’s failed in geometry every day since we came back, and has to take private lessons with Miss Wells. Of course she didn’t tell me, but I know she’s failed because she’s in my division. Bess Shepard told me yesterday that Dorothy was going to take lessons with her of Miss Wells in the afternoon. Bess was sick, you know, and she’s making up lost time. That’s how I know.” Priscilla turned suddenly from the window and sat down on the couch. “Virginia,” she said, “I’m desperately worried about Dorothy. It isn’t being untrue to her to talk with you about her, because you are her friend, too. She isn’t a bit the way she was last year. She doesn’t seem to care about lots of things the way she did then and when she was at our house this summer. Don’t you think she’s different from what she was even in September?” Virginia left the window and sat beside her roommate. “Yes,” she said, “she is different. She laughs at things now that she didn’t then; and she seems to be afraid of taking sides about things. I mean, whether anything’s fair or not. She never likes to say what she thinks any more, like she used to.” “That’s Imogene. I think it’s almost all Imogene.” Priscilla’s voice was lowered to a whisper. “Dorothy likes Imogene because she has such a don’t-care way about things, and because she has so much money, and dresses better than any girl in school, though _I_ think her clothes are a sight! Mother thought Dorothy was different when she was here Thanksgiving. She noticed it. I wish Imogene Meredith had never come here!” Virginia’s voice was also lowered. “She doesn’t give Vivian a chance either. I think Vivian’s dear and sweet; but Imogene makes her do everything she says, and poor Vivian’s so easily influenced, she does it. You know what I’m thinking about especially?” Priscilla nodded. She knew. They were both thinking of the “Flood,” as St. Helen’s now termed it, and of how Imogene had tried to shift the blame from her own shoulders on those of poor Vivian and unconscious Virginia. “Of course I know. I told you then ’twas just like her. And Dorothy knew about that, too. I’m sure she did! She’s so quiet whenever it’s mentioned, and looks ashamed. And lately Dorothy’s even been teasing Vivian, just as Imogene does, about that silly Leslie, who always gives Vivian extra large cakes at the ‘Forget-me-not.’ Oh, dear! I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, but it worries me. Dorothy’s my best friend along with you, and I don’t want her to grow like Imogene. Can you keep a secret if I tell you one?” “Of course, I can.”