At the change of cars the Dalton girls were met by Viola and Mrs. Green. Viola and her mother soon arranged seats for four in the chair car, and Dorothy, with Tavia, joined them in such comfortable quarters as are provided for long distance passengers. Then the little party settled down for a long ride—and all the enjoyment¹ that might be discovered therein. Viola appeared delighted to meet the Dalton girls—she inquired particularly about Dorothy's cousin Nat, but this society "stunt," as Tavia termed it, was due more to the city habit of remembering friends' friends, than a weakness on Viola's part for good looking boys.  
But it was Viola's mother who interested both Dorothy and Tavia. She was a small woman, evidently of foreign extraction (Spanish, Dorothy thought) and with such a look of adoration² for Viola that, to Dorothy and Tavia, observing the wonderful mother-love, it seemed like something inhuman³, divine perhaps, or was it a physical weakness?
 
They noticed that Mrs. Green used her smelling salts freely, she often pressed her hand to her head, and seemed much like a person too delicate to travel.
 
"Are you all right, momsey?" Viola would ask continually. "I do wish you had not risked coming."
 
"But I could not allow you to travel all alone," the mother would answer with a delightful⁴ foreign accent. "And you know, my daughter, that father was too busy."
 
"But, momsey, do not sit up if you are tired," cautioned Viola. "Just lie back and try to be comfortable."
 
"I am enjoying every word you speak," declared the little woman, inhaling⁵ her salts. "You and your charming friends."
 
Dorothy had never seen so wonderful a mother—to actually hang on her daughter's frivolous⁶ nonsense. And the attention was a positive tonic⁷ to Tavia's chatter⁸. She said such amusing things and saw such ridiculous comparisons—the kind little children surprise their elders with.
 
To Dorothy, who had never known a mother's affection (she was such a tot when her own dear mother left her), this devotion appeared to be nothing short of marvelous. Tavia thought it unusual—Viola seemed worried when it became too extreme. Then she would urge her mother to rest and not excite herself over foolish schoolgirl talk. Even such an admonition from a mere⁹ daughter did not appear to bother the strange little woman, with the almost glaring black eyes. Tavia observed this peculiarity¹⁰, then made a mental observation that whatever ailed¹¹ Viola might have to do with a similar affliction on the mother's part—perhaps a family weakness!
 
As they journeyed on Dorothy found it very pleasant to talk with Mrs. Green and so left Viola and Tavia pretty much to themselves.
 
Numbers of Glenwood girls were picked up at various stations, and, as each was espied¹², the chair car party hailed them, Viola being acquainted with the last year's girls. Before the last station—some twenty miles from the destination of the students—had been struck off the time-table, there were actually twelve "Glenwoods," aboard. Those from Dalton felt just a bit "green" Tavia admitted, never before having mingled¹³ with a boarding school "tribe," but on the whole the scholars were very sociable¹⁴ and agreeable, and made all sorts of promises for future good times.
 
"You see," explained Rose-Mary Markin, a very dear girl from somewhere in Connecticut, "we count all this side of Boston in the Knickerbocker set, 'Knicks,' we call them. The others are the Pilgrims; and isn't it dreadful to nickname them the 'Pills?'"
 
Tavia thought that "the best ever," and declared she would join the Knicks (spelled "Nicks" in the school paper) no matter what the initiation¹⁵ would cost her.
 
"Viola is secretary of the Nicks," volunteered Amy Brook¹⁶, a girl who wore her hair parted exactly in the middle and looked classical. "We have lots of sport; plays and meetings. You will join, surely, Dorothy, won't you?"
 
"But I will not be secretary this year," interrupted V............