Polly's first year at boarding school

sang fifty voices, and then the tramping started once more and grew fainter as the girls neared the gym.

Poor Polly buried her head in the pillow and sobbed:

“To think of my having a chance to play in the big game and then not being able to! Why, I can’t even watch it!” she cried. “Why didn’t I see those hateful steps?”

Miss King came in and asked if there was anything she could do.

“I am quite at your service,” she assured her.

“Do you really mean that?” answered Polly. “Then go over to the gym and watch the game for a little while and come back and tell me how it’s going, and if we have a chance. I promise to be good,” she added.

Miss King thought it over and decided to go. It would please her unhappy patient, and besides she loved to see a good game herself.

“I won’t stay very long,” she said. “If you want anything you can reach the bell that rings in the other house.”

“Don’t come back unless we are winning,” called Polly as she watched the white nurse’s cap disappear down the long flight of steps that led from the infirmary to the ground. They had been built so that if there were any contagious cases in the infirmary, the girls could reach the grounds without going into any other part of the buildings.

Then, tired from the excitement of the day, she sank back in the pillows to rest until Miss King’s return. She dozed off to sleep for about fifteen minutes, and when she next opened her eyes she was conscious of the smell of smoke.

She raised herself on her elbow and looked out of the dormer window beside her bed. From there she could see the Bridge of Sighs which, as you know, connected the two buildings of the school. A thin spiral of smoke was pouring out from the top of the middle window.

Her first thought was the bell. She rang it violently, but with no success, for the maids were in the laundry gossiping over a cup of tea, and the bell clanged to an empty kitchen.

Something had to be done and Polly realized that that something rested with her. As quickly as her ankle would permit—it was, of course, paining her terribly—she got into such of her clothes as she could find in the infirmary, threw Miss King’s cape around her, and thrust her stockinged feet once again into Angela’s Chinese slippers.

“Now,” she thought, as she limped painfully down the steps, “the thing to do is to get one of the teachers’ attention without letting the girls know anything is wrong.”

The fifty feet to the gym seemed as many miles to Polly. At first the excitement of her errand kept her up, but as she neared the gym the burning pain in her ankle forced her to stop every few feet to rest.

When at last she stumbled up the steps of the gym, she was met at the door by Mrs. Baird and Miss King, who were just leaving.

“Polly, what is it?” gasped both women, hurrying to her side.

“The Bridge of Sighs is on fire—no one answered the bell—I had to come—don’t tell the girls!” And Polly, her message delivered, fainted dead away in Miss King’s arms and was carried back unconscious to the infirmary.

The fire was soon under control. Mrs. Baird called the stablemen, and together with the fire extinguishers it was over almost at once. It had started by two wires crossing and, fortunately, on the bridge. It might easily have spread to both buildings had it not been for Polly’s timely warning. So quietly and quickly had it happened that the girls in the gym knew nothing of it.

When Polly next opened her eyes, Mrs. Baird and Miss King were standing on either side of her bed.

“Is it out?” she asked, turning to Mrs. Baird.

“Yes, dear, it is; thanks to you and your splendid courage,” Mrs. Baird replied, taking her hand in hers and patting it.

“And the game?” demanded Polly, now thoroughly conscious. “Is it over?”

A prolonged shout from the gym answered her question.

“It must be just over,” explained Miss King, “and that shout sounds as if we had won. How is the ankle, dear? Very painful?”

“Yes, it is kind of sore,” Polly admitted, “but I want to know the score,” she insisted.

Mrs. Baird gave her hand a tight squeeze and smiled down at her as she answered:

“I’ll go this minute and find out; they are probably waiting for me to present the cup. I will send you the score at once,” she promised as she left the room.

Seddon Hall had made a hard fight and when the time was up the score on the board was 10 to 8 in their favor. Betty had surprised everybody by her good work. She had not given the other center a chance at the ball and she had made only one foul. Perhaps the thought of Polly waiting anxiously in the infirmary for news of the game had spurred her on. Before the game started she had said to Lois:

“I may be in a blue funk, but won this game shall be, if I have anything to say about it. Polly shan’t be disappointed.”

And Betty had kept her word. She had managed the passes so well that Louise, who at the beginning of the game had been in a fever of apprehension, had almost wept with joy.

As Mrs. Baird entered they were cheering the losing team. With a few well-chosen words of congratulations, she presented the cup to Louise Preston, and finished with a brief account of the fire and the part Polly had played in it.

Useless to try to describe the girls’ enthusiasm; they cheered and cheered. Mrs. Baird dispatched Lois and Betty to tell Polly the score, and the rest of the girls stood under the infirmary window and sang to her until their throats were hoarse.

Betty and Lois, still in their gym suits, sat on the end of her bed and told her all about the game.

“Betty, darling, if you were not so hot and dirty I think I could eat you,” Polly exclaimed. “Think of your making only one little foul. Oh, but I’m proud of you!”

“Well, you see, you told Louise to put me on the team in your place,” Betty explained, “and I had to make good.”

Polly turned to Lois:

“I am awfully sorry you didn’t get a chance to play,” she said.

“I’m kind of glad,” Lois replied. “Now, perhaps, we will both play on Field Day.”

“Here, here, what are you daring to suggest?” demanded Louise Preston from the doorway. She was followed by the rest of the team. They had waited to see the Whitehead girls off and then changed from their gym suits before coming to see the heroine of the day.

“Oh, I was only hoping a couple of you big team girls would give us subs a chance on Field Day. You are dreadfully selfish, you know,” Lois replied.

Polly smiled happily at her captain.

“Well, you did win the game without me, Louise, didn’t you?” she asked.

“How do you make that out?” Florence Guile demanded. “I think you had a pretty big hand in it. If you hadn’t been so plucky and kept so still about the fire, we’d have all been frightened to death and the game never would have been even finished.”

“Florence is right,” agreed everybody. “Three long cheers for plucky Polly!”

“To the victor belongs the spoils,” laughed Louise. When the girls had stopped cheering: “Here’s the cup. I brought it up to show you, and you may keep it as long as you like.”

Polly took it reverently in her hands and looked at it for a long time. Finally she said:

“What a funny day it’s been. Please don’t any one talk any more about the fire. I’m sick of it, and besides it was the game that counted.” Then as she caught sight of Angela among the crowd of girls at the door she said:

“Come here, Angela. I have something to tell you, you must apologize to your slippers; they have atoned for their crime; they carried me safely all the way to the gym.”

Miss King appeared at the door as the girls were laughing at Polly’s remark.

“Is this a reception by any chance?” she inquired. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ll all have to leave. Polly’s supper is on its way from the kitchen and I’m sure she doesn’t want an audience while she is eating it.”

The girls left after more congratulations and promises to come back the first thing next day, and Polly was left alone to gaze happily at the big silver loving cup which, in a measure, she had helped win for Seddon Hall.

CHAPTER XIII—BETTY’S IDEA

The long days in the infirmary dragged by and lengthened into weeks. One so closely resembled the other that Polly lost track of all time. Uncle Roddy sent boxes containing everything that his generous mind could think of, to amuse the invalid, and the girls did their best to make the days fly.

At last the time came when, with the aid of a crutch and Miss King, Polly managed to hobble down the steps and out into the sunshine. It was only a matter of a couple of weeks after that, that she discarded the crutch, and on a never-to-be-forgotten day made her appearance, a little worn and shaky still, at the beginning of the Literature class. No one expected her, and her welcome was all that she could have dreamed of.

In the meantime the snow had melted, to be replaced by slush and, as March ended, by mud. Polly slipped back easily into her accustomed place. Easter vacation, spent at Atlantic City with Uncle Roddy, came and went, so that when this chapter opens, spring was fully established and Seddon Hall was a mass of dogwood and violets.

Today was the day of the Faculty tea, to be given by the Seniors, and Polly, Lois, and Betty were helping them make the sandwiches and fruit punch.

“Wah, but I’m hot and tired!” sighed Lois, holding a thin slice of bread in one hand and a knife smeared with mayonnaise dressing in the other.

“You’re lazy, you mean,” replied Betty. “Try squeezing a few of these lemons if you want a sample of real work; they’re as hard as rocks.”

Polly looked up, flushed from her task.

“I’ve an idea,” she exclaimed. “Look! Put the lemon on the floor and roll it gently with your toe. See how soft it gets!” she continued as she cut the rolled lemon in half and squeezed out the juice.

“Bright idea!” congratulated Betty. “Why didn’t you think of it before?” And putting a lemon on the floor, she started rolling it vigorously.

“Lo, if you could see how funny you look,” she added. “You’ve a daub of dressing on the end of your nose.”

“Oh, would some power the giftie gie us, to see ourselves as others see us,” quoted Lois. “Who said that?” she inquired.

(Please remember Betty was still rolling the lemon).

One of the Sophomores, busy at the other end of the table, caught the remark and, to tease Betty who was renowned for her knowledge of quotations, called:

“Sir Thomas Moore, didn’t he?”

“Moore!” yelled Betty. “Certainly not! Robert Burns wrote it. Such ignorance! I am surprised!”

Some one else exclaimed: “Why, Betty, you are crazy. Burns never said anything as clever as that.”

Poor Betty was all up in arms. Like most people that love to tease, she was not always conscious when she was being teased herself.

“He didn’t, didn’t he?” she demanded. “Well, I’ll prove to you that he did.”

At the word prove, delivered in her most emphatic manner, she put so much extra pressure on the poor long-suffering lemon that it gave a prolonged squashy noise and oozed out all over the floor.

“Oh, Bet, what a mess!” exclaimed Polly. “Look at the floor!”

Betty looked and grumbled disgustedly:

“That ends it. I’ll squeeze no more lemons. It’s all your fault, anyhow, Polly, for telling me to step on them.”

“Excuse me, dear,” said Polly meekly, “I meant with moderation.”

As the girls stood laughing around the remains of the lemon, Louise Preston entered the room.

“I can’t get any one to pick violets for me. We’ve only one bowlful and we need loads.” Then as she saw the floor she asked: “Who’s been throwing lemons?”

“Oh, Bet got mad because I put a quotation in Moore’s mouth that belonged to Burns, her beloved,” laughed Mary Right.

“Well, suppose you three girls go and get us some more flowers,” suggested Louise. “You don’t look as if you were enjoying this very much and, besides, we can’t waste lemons.”

“We will go with pleasure,” chorused the three.

“Thanks ever so much,” said Louise, and she added as they were leaving the room: “Please don’t do any arguing while you’re about it, or Bet may step on the violets.”

Ten minutes later the three were making their way to a brook whose banks they knew would be covered with long-stemmed dogtooth violets.

“Ungrateful wretches, these Seniors,” grunted Betty, seating herself on a rock and stretching. “Work your fingers to the bone and never even get asked to come in the back door to their party.”

“Seems to me,” mused Polly, “that all the other classes do the entertaining and the Freshmen do all the work.”

They were still for a few minutes and sat lazily on the moss watching the water gurgle over the stones at the bottom of the brook. Finally Betty exclaimed:

“I have it, the best idea! Listen! Why don’t we give a farewell party to the Seniors?”

“It’s never been done,” replied Lois.

“What of that? There’s got to be a first time to everything, and it would be such a lark.”

“But what kind of a party?”

“A moonlight straw-ride and supper at Flat Rock,” suggested Polly. “Mrs. Baird would let us, I know, she’s such a dear.”

“How about the other girls?” inquired Lois. “Angela and Connie would love it, of course, but the rest—”

“The rest don’t count,” cut in Betty. “We have the majority and, besides, they always do what we suggest.”

“Let’s call a class meeting tonight,” said Polly. “And now, if we don’t start to gather some violets, the Seniors won’t accept our invitation if we do ask them to a party.”

For an hour they picked flowers and discussed the plans.

“None of your garden parties with ice-cream and cake for me; there’s never any fun in that,” remarked Betty, dipping a handful of withered violets into the brook.

“Besides, that is what the ‘sofs’ have planned to do. Mary Rice told me about it, confidentially,” added Lois.

“Therefore you immediately tell us,” laughed Betty. “Well, they need not be afraid of our copying them. Polly’s plan’s the best, if we can only do it.”

“Listen!” commanded Polly. “Wasn’t that some one calling up there?”

“Hello!” called a voice directly above them.

The girls looked and there, standing on a rock, were Connie and Angela, with their arms full of dogwood.

“Come on down,” sang out Betty. “You’re just the ones we want; we’ve a wonderful idea.”

“Great! Bully!” exclaimed Angela and Connie when they had heard the plan. “Why didn’t any one ever think of it before?”

“We can take bacon in jars, and rolls, and broil the bacon over a regular camp fire,” suggested Connie.

“And I’ll make up a new song just to the Seniors. None of the other classes have ever done that,” announced Angela.

“If we don’t hurry back the Seniors will think we’re lost,” reminded Polly. Then with a sigh she added: “I do hope the rest of the class will like the idea.”

They did. A class meeting was called and everybody voted it a dandy plan. The two Dorothys said their only objection would be in case the Spartan were chosen for chaperone. The rest laughed at the very thought and Polly promised to annihilate the first one to make such a horrible suggestion.

Lois was chosen to ask Mrs. Baird, and returned from the office with her full permission.

The day was set for the following Friday night, and Angela was told to write a song.

In the corridor that evening as the girls were talking over the plans for the party, one of the maids appeared with a covered tray.

“From the Seniors,” she explained, handing it to Lois. “For Miss Polly, Miss Betty, Miss Angela, Miss Connie, and you.”

“Food!” exclaimed Betty. “Why, the Seniors aren’t such ungrateful wretches as I thought them.”

“Indeed they are not; they’ve the best class in the school,” protested Lois.

“With one exception,” Polly corrected, “the Freshmen.”

And after a subdued cheer they started in to make short work of the tray’s contents.

CHAPTER XIV—THE FRESHMEN ENTERTAIN

Friday arrived, clear and sunshiny, with just enough chill in the air to make sweaters comfortable.

The Freshmen class were so excited that they found it impossible to pay any attention in classes. The teachers, for the most part, understood and forgave, except the Spartan, who was, of course, more trying than usual.

After the last bell the Freshmen met in one of the classrooms to decide about the last details. Although they had no class officers, it was almost always Lois who acted as president at all their meetings. Such was the case today.

“Everybody stop talking for one second,” she commanded, swinging herself to the top of the desk. “The first thing to think about is food,” she continued, as the girls dropped into chairs, and there was a lull in the conversation.

Betty jumped up, announcing emphatically:

“You may count me out on that; no more squashed lemons for little Betty.”

“There’s not much to get ready,” Polly remarked. “There’s the rolls and bacon—they’re ordered—and the ginger pop, the potato chips, and the apples and bananas are here. There’s really nothing to make but the Boston brown bread sandwiches. Who’ll make them?” And she looked questioningly at the two Dorothys.

“We will,” volunteered one of them. “What goes in between—cream cheese and grape jelly?”

“Yes,” answered Betty, “and for goodness’ sake, Dot, don’t get original and put anything else in on your own hook.”

“Betty, do be serious for once,” pleaded Lois. “There’s loads to be done. Have you finished the song, Angela?”

“Yes, and I say we wait until we’ve finished supper and are all sitting around the fire before we sing it to them,” suggested Angela.

Everybody agreed that that was a good idea.

“It’s to the tune of ‘There is a Tavern Near the Town,’ isn’t it?” asked Roberta Andrews. “I haven’t learned the words yet.”

“Oh,” Lois interrupted, jumping down from the desk, “we forgot all about the straw for the wagon. Berta, will you and Ruth see to that? MacDonald said we could have as much as we wanted if we’d go to the stable and get it.”

“All right, that will be a lark,” agreed Berta. “Come on, Ruth, we’d better get right at it now.” And the two girls, after parting instructions from Lois, left for the stable.

“If we are going to make those sandwiches,” began Dot Mead, “we’d better go, too.”

“Righto!” agreed her twin in name, and together they started for the kitchen.

“And now what are you going to do with me, Ruler of the Universe?” inquired Connie.

Lois looked at her for a minute and then replied:

“I think you and Angela might go out and cut sticks to broil the bacon on.”

“Cut their fingers off, you mean. Certainly not,” exploded Betty. “They may find the sticks, but I will do the whittling.”

And taking Connie and Angela each by an arm, Betty escorted them out of the room.

When Lois and Polly were left alone, they hugged each other joyously.

“And now for the express-room,” Polly whispered mysteriously.

At five o’clock the big farm wagon, filled with hay and drawn by two big gray horses, was waiting in the driveway under the Bridge of Sighs.

“Everything in?” shouted Angela. “Steamer rugs and food?”

“Yes, all in,” answered Betty, who was patting the horses’ noses.

Polly and Lois were standing just around the corner of the house and out of sight of the other girls.

“Now’s the time to get it in,” whispered the latter. She used the same mysterious tone of voice in which Polly had spoken of the express-room earlier in the day.

A few minutes later, under the hurry and excitement of starting, they smuggled a large box, unnoticed, under the driver’s seat.

“Safe and sound, and nobody saw,” Lois whispered softly. “Every one in?” she called out. “All aboard.”

The Seniors were each seated beside a Freshman, Louise Preston was between Lois and Polly. Miss Stuart and Miss Porter, who were chaperoning the party, sat beside the driver, where all good chaperons ought to sit.

As the barge rolled out of the school grounds, the girls sang the favorite Seddon Hall song, which ended in the words:

“It’s the only school in the wide, wide world.”

At first, things were a little dull. There was a big distance between the oldest and youngest classes of the upper school, but after a while the Seniors forgot their dignity and the Freshmen their respect.

When Flat Rock, a huge boulder with a table top, overlooking a small lake, was reached, everybody was in the best of spirits, and they piled out and helped unload.

Polly and Lois, as before, captured the mysterious box and managed to hide it in the bushes. A camp fire, under Miss Stuart’s direction, was soon blazing, and the girls were seated on rugs and pillows, toasting bacon.

Now every one knows that a bacon bat is loads of fun to talk about before it happens, and to remember afterwards, but the actual eating of the bacon, which is always burned long before it is cooked, is not so much fun in itself.

This bacon bat was like every other. When the bacon was all gone, and a good deal of it had been surreptitiously thrown away, every one looked around for something to really eat. The sandwiches were not very satisfying, and it was too soon to offer the bananas.

The Freshmen began to look uneasy. It entered their heads that perhaps their party was not going to be the success they had planned. Then just as Polly and Lois were exchanging glances, Betty, who was hunting for more wood for the fire, stumbled over the mysterious box.

“Hello, what’s this?” she called. “Why, it says Freshman Class on it.”

Every one pounced on the box and opened it, to find a big fat turkey all carved but held together by a narrow white ribbon, paper plates and napkins and drinking cups, cranberry jelly, a huge chocolate cake, any quantity of cookies, and boxes of candy.

Well, you can imagine the surprise. As each new item was unpacked, there was a chorus of exclamations, such as:

“Where under the sun did it come from?”

“Do look at the immense turkey!”

“Somebody knew I loved home-made cookies!”

“Please, all, leave me alone with this chocolate cake!”

No one knew where it came from except Betty, who caught on at once, and Polly and Lois made her keep still. It was a royal spread, which means everybody ate more than was good for them.

When it was finally over and they were all sitting comfortably around the fire, the Freshmen started singing Angela’s song:

(Angela never was satisfied with the last line.) Louise Preston was sitting with Lois and Polly on either side of her, and as the song ended, she put her arm around each of them.

“This has been the very best party of the whole year,” she said, “and I think I know something about the way the wonderful box came to be here.”

Polly and Lois tried to appear very innocent, but it was of no use. Finally Polly said:

“Well, perhaps you do, but please don’t tell any one what you know.”

“All right, I promise,” Louise said, “but I will tell you two this much—you’re quite the sweetest children in the school, and I can’t tell you how much I and the rest of the Seniors appreciate all the things you have done for us this year.”

“I’ll tell you how you can—” laughed Lois “—by letting us help some more.”

It was now the Seniors’ turn to cheer, and they did it most heartily, calling each Freshman’s name in turn. Then Betty, who was very full of turkey and bananas, got up to make a speech.

“‘Friends, Romans and Countrymen,’” she began, “lend me your ears.” Then mimicking the chaplain, she continued: “My dear young friends, tonight has been one of the pleasures never to be forgotten. The bacon was perhaps not all that it might have been, but surely we can afford to overlook that in the face of this blessed turkey.”

“Somebody throw something at Betty; she’s off,” Angela called.

“Come and help reload,” suggested Connie.

With a few muttered remarks about an unappreciative audience, Betty brought her speech to a laughing close and turned to, with a will, to replace the rugs and pillows. In a short time everything was in, and the wagon started for home.

It was a glorious ride. The Freshmen repeated their song and cheered and cheered the Seniors, and the Seniors returned the compliment.

When there was a lull in the singing, as they passed through the village, Betty, almost asleep in the hay, grunted:

“You may all thank me for this party; it never would have happened if I hadn’t squashed that bally lemon.”

The wagon drew up under the Bridge of Sighs, just as the big school clock tolled ten o’clock. The girls parted with many thanks on both sides, and they were all conscious that they would remember this as the jolliest evening of the year.

As Polly and Lois said good night in the latter’s room, Lois said:

“Well, it was a success, and no one but Bet and Louise guessed about the box.”

“Wasn’t it!” agreed Polly. “I’m awfully glad we thought of it; we’d have starved if we hadn’t. I think the Seniors enjoyed it, too. Isn’t Louise a darling? Do you know, Lo, if I wasn’t so strongly opposed to ‘crushes,’ I might get an awful one on Louise.”

“Could you?” smiled Lois in reply. “I’ll tell you a secret—I’ve had quite a desperate one on her myself for two years.”

Later, as Polly slipped into bed, she said aloud to the pictures on the wall:

“What a wonderful box it was.” And closing her eyes she murmured sleepily: “Bless Uncle Roddy’s heart.”

CHAPTER XV—VISITORS

Lois bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, waving a yellow telegram in the air and shrieking: “Polly!” at the top of her lungs. Not finding her friend in the corridor, she started for the gym, and discovered her there vigorously bouncing the basket-ball.

“Polly, come here quick,” she cried; “I’ve just had a wire from Dad saying he, mother and Bob are coming up here this afternoon.”

Polly tucked the ball under one arm and put the other on Lois’ shoulder.

“Are they really?” she asked delightedly. “What time?”

“The wire doesn’t tell, just says, this afternoon. They may be here any minute.” Then rubbing her cheek against Polly’s she added, coaxingly:

“You’ll help me entertain them won’t you, Poll, and stay with us all the time they’re here? Promise.”

Polly made a wild attempt to throw the ball in the basket, half way across the room as she answered:

“Of course I will, what do you want me to do?”

“Hurry and get out of your suit first,” said Lois. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Baird about the trains.”

Polly hurried to her room to change, and was just tying her sailor tie, when Lois knocked at the door.

“They can’t get here until three thirty,” she announced. “So there’s loads of time.”

Polly had almost completed her dressing.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked, giving a vigorous, last brush to her wavy hair and straightening her bows.

“They’ve seen the grounds, haven’t they?”

“Bob never has,” Lois answered. Then, after a minute of thoughtful silence:

“Polly, what are we going to do with them? Mother and Father are all right but Bob’s sure to do something awful, he’s such a tease.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” laughed Polly; “if the worst comes to the worst, you can take him out of bounds.”

In spite of this suggestion, Lois’ brows remained puckered and her expression worried. She was not thinking so much about how to amuse Bob. She was wondering how, now that these two were at last to meet, they would like each other. Suppose they didn’t like each other at all! Dreadful thought; Polly might think Bob too grown up and quiet, and Bob might think her “a silly girl.” Lois looked forlorn when she contemplated such an outcome to this meeting.

She still wore a puzzled expression as she waited on the steps a little later, watching for the first sign of the Station Carriage. At three o’clock it came in sight around the first bend of the road. When it reached the porte-cochère, her father was the first to get out and he almost smothered Lois in his big hug.

Big, was the word that described Dr. Farwell, everything about him was big. His broad shoulders, his well shaped hands, his kindly deep set blue eyes, even his voice, which appeared to come from his boots as he asked:

“How is this little daughter of mine?”

“Oh, Daddie, dear, I’m so glad to see you. I’m perfectly fine,” Lois answered excitedly and then turned to greet her mother.

“Darling Lois,” Mrs. Farwell whispered, kissing her, and:

“Sweetheart mother,” Lois whispered back. That was all. Mother and daughter understood each other so well, that there was no need for words.

“Well, don’t I get even a how d’ye do?” demanded a laughing voice. And a big hand fell on Lois’ shoulder.

“Why, Bobbie—but of course you do, I’m so glad to see you, I could eat you up,” she cried.

“Eat this instead, won’t you?” said Bob, producing a big white cardboard box. “It’s a chocolate cake—it won’t be quite so tough. Heppy made it for you, and she said she ‘sho’ did hope her baby chile would like it.’”

“Bless Heppy’s heart, she’s a darling, give me the box, you’re sure to drop it.”

“I like that, after I’ve carried it all the way here. I’ve a good mind to feed it to the horse,” Bob threatened.

“Hadn’t you better take us to the reception-room, dear?” Mrs. Farwell reminded. “We want to say how do you do to Mrs. Baird.”

Lois led, dancing every step of the way. At the door of the room she pointed to a cozy group of chairs in the corner. “You wait here,” she said, “and I’ll go tell her; she’s always in her office at this time.”

“Thank you, dear, and oh, can’t we meet Polly?” asked her mother and Dr. Farwell added:

“Yes, of course we must meet Roddy’s niece.”

Lois called back, “I’ll get her first, I have Mrs. Baird’s permission.” And disappeared down the corridor. On reaching Freshman Lane she knocked at Polly’s door.

“Polly, they’re here, hurry up.”

“Wait a minute, I’m changing my shoes,” Polly answered.

But she did not add, for the fourth time:

“Whatever for?”

“Oh, my others needed a shine.”

“Well, hurry up, do. When you’re ready come down to the reception hall. I’ll meet you.”

And Lois was off again, but instead of returning to her family, she suddenly remembered Mrs. Baird, and went off in search of her.

When Polly reached the reception-room, after deciding the weighty question of shoes, she found Bobbie, all six feet of him, blocking the doorway.

He was standing with his hands behind him, his head thrown back, and his eyes fixed intently on a colored print of Venice that hung to the right of the door.

Dr. Farwell was hidden by the piano. Farther back in the room Mrs. Farwell was looking out of the window and smiling. She had thrown back her dark brown feather boa, that so nearly matched her eyes, and Polly could see a waterfall of soft cream lace at her neck; her hands were in her lap, and she tapped the floor with one ridiculously tiny foot.

As Polly slowly approached the door she thought, wistfully, “What a darling to have for a mother,” and then, “how under the sun will I ever get past Bob. Well, I’m here now and I can’t run.” And taking her courage in both hands, she walked the rest of the way to the door, and after a nervous little cough, said:

“I beg your pardon.”

Bob, startled from his reverie, turned, and seeing her, jumped to one side.

“Oh, I’m sorry! excuse me, I—” In his confusion he backed into the piano stool and sat down suddenly without meaning to.

At the sound, Doctor and Mrs. Farwell both looked up, and the Doctor said:

“Why, Bob, what—?” and then laughed.

Mrs. Farwell took in the situation at a glance, and went over to Polly, who was blushing violently, with outstretched hand.

“I’m sure you must be Polly,” she said. “Lois has written me so much about you, that I know I can’t be mistaken.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Farwell?” Polly answered shyly. “I am Polly. Lois said to come down, that she’d be here.”

“She’s looking for Mrs. Baird,” Mrs. Farwell explained.

“Do let me present my husband to you.”

“So this is Polly?” said the Doctor. “I am delighted to see you, my dear. I used to know Roddy well. You and he were so good to Lois Christmas vacation that I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“And this is my son, Bob,” Mrs. Farwell continued, without giving Polly a chance to reply.

Bob held out a big hand,

“How do you do Miss Pendleton?”

“How do you do, Mr. Farwell?”

They said together, and then both fell into a confused silence.

Fortunately, Lois entered at that moment.

“Oh, there you are, Polly,” she said. “Mrs. Baird will be here right away, mother. You and Dad stay here and talk to her, and Polly and I will take Bob for a walk, and show him the grounds.”

The two girls ran up stairs for their sweaters, and in a jiffy they were leading Bob towards the gym.

At first, Lois did most of the talking, for Polly and Bob were very quiet.

The one was thinking: “If Lo had been there I would not have been so embarrassed.”

And the other: “Of all the brilliant ways of meeting a girl, falling over a chair is the best! I am the Clumsiest, etc., etc.”

But as they entered the gym Polly forgot her shyness, and as she rattled on about basket-ball and the coming Field Day, Bob was able to console his injured pride with the thought that after all, she was only one of his kid sister’s friends.

In the course of their walk, which led them past all the landmarks in the grounds, they talked to each other with the ease of old friends, and Bob had started to tease.

“Lois says you play basket-ball wonderfully,” he said to Polly, as they tramped through the woods on their way to the old fort.

“I don’t play half as well as she does,” she answered. “Besides, she knows nothing about it; I’ve never played in a big game. Perhaps if I did, I’d lose my nerve.”

“You almost played once,” Lois reminded her.

“What happened?”

“I sprained my ankle instead.”

“Oh, was that the time you were so plucky about giving the fire alarm? That was great; Lo wrote me about it.”

“What else could I have done? I couldn’t very well let the place burn down, could I?” Polly asked, smiling a little self-consciously.

“I suppose not,” Bob said aloud. Adding to himself, “For a girl as young as she is, she’s remarkably sensible.”

They walked on in silence, taking long swinging strides.

The thump, thump of their footsteps echoed and reëchoed in the silent woods. They reached the top of Fort Hill and stopped for a minute to get their breath. The wind blew the girls’ hair about their flushed faces and sent eddies of last fall’s brown leaves swirling along the path before them.

Across the Hudson the sun was already half hidden by the hills. Below them the old stone fort sprawled half way down the steep slope that led to the river.

Bob’s eyes rested on it inquiringly—“Hello, what have we here?” he asked.

“That’s the old fort, built in the Revolution by the Americans to defend themselves against the attacking British,” Lois recited, in a sing song voice. “It is said that at the brook we just crossed General George Washington once watered his horse while the founder of Seddon Hall held the bridle,” she continued, smiling mischievously at her brother.

It was the tale that was told to all the new girls at school and there were always a few who believed it.

Bob laughed heartily.

“Come, Sis, that’s too much, but you told it well. Why don’t you add that Washington and his staff made the reception-room their headquarters?”

“I will the next time I tell it,” Lois chuckled, pleased at the idea.

Polly had wandered off a little way down the slope, presently she called:

“Lo, do you remember the first time we came out here?”

“Yes, of course I do; we were getting greens for the Seniors. We talked so much we were nearly late for luncheon.”

“Doesn’t it seem ages ago? By the way, what time is it?”

Bob pulled out his watch.

“It’s five, ten,” he said.

“It’s fate,” exclaimed Polly; “we are always late when we come to the fort.”

“Poor Mother and Dad, we’ll have to hustle,” said Lois.

They looked regretfully at the wonderful orange sky, turned, and with the wind at their backs, started off in the direction of the school.

Half an hour later, breathless from hurrying, they entered the reception-room and found Dr. and Mrs. Farwell still talking to Mrs. Baird, and lingering over the remains of their tea.

“Enjoyed your walk?” asked Mrs. Farwell.

“We’ve had such a cozy tea party that we haven’t had time to miss you,” the Doctor added.

Mrs. Baird acknowledged the compliment with a smile.

“If the girls are to go out to dinner,” she said, “I think they had better go upstairs and dress: it’s almost six o’clock.”

“Are we going out to dinner?” exclaimed Lois.

“Yes, both of you,” replied Mrs. Farwell; “so hurry up.”

“Thank you so much, it’s ever so kind of you to ask me, too,” said Polly, suddenly mindful of Aunt Hannah and her instructions in manners, then, as suddenly forgetting them:

“What a lark, we’ll be ready in a jiffy,” and catching Lois by the arm she dragged her up stairs.

The Village hotel, under Dr. Farwell’s insistent demands, produced a passably good dinner. Every one was in such high spirits that the time flew by.

“Isn’t it funny,” laughed Lois, as they delayed finishing their cream and cake, “to be having dinner here with my family? Last time it was with Uncle Roddy.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” agreed Polly. “I wonder what happened to the parrot?”

The waiter, who was passing the coffee, heard the question and said sadly:

“He died a month ago, Miss—of a cold in his head. We miss him sore,” he added dolefully.

“What a shame!” exclaimed Polly and Lois together.

“I’ll have to write Uncle Roddy and tell him,” and Polly tried hard not to look amused.

The waiter looked grateful and after a polite “Thank you, Miss,” left the room solemnly shaking his head.

The trouble with a good time is that there is always an end in sight. We often don’t look for it, and then pretend it’s not there. But we’re sure to find it sooner or later lurking around the corner somewhere.

The end of this particular good time took the shape of the train to Albany, and the accusing hands of the hotel clock warned the Farwells of its near approach.

They saw the girls back to Seddon Hall and after repeated good-bys, drove off down the hill.

Polly and Lois watched the lamp on the carriage until it disappeared around a bend in the road.

“All over,” sighed Lois, unwillingly coming back to earth. “And we missed study hour, and there’s a Latin test tomorrow.”

“Oh, bother Latin, we can get up early in the morning and cram. Lo, your mother and father are the dearest people I ever met. I mean it, truly,” said Polly.

Lois looked at her intently. They were on the porch and it was dark—

“Don’t you like Bob a little tiny bit, too?” she asked mischievously.

And Polly answered with provoking indifference:

“Why, of course.”

CHAPTER XVI—GHOSTS

“Do you think you passed?” asked Betty, joining Angela and Polly in the schoolroom corridor. It was the third day of examination week and the Freshmen had just finished the Literature exam.

“I hope so,” Polly answered. “It was awfully fair, don’t you think?”

“Yes; but tell me one thing,” Angela insisted, coming to a standstill and putting her hands on Betty’s shoulder. “What did you say for the hint that Portia gave Bassanio about the caskets?”

“Why, the song—‘Tell me where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head?’” Betty answered.

“Don’t you see” (Polly took up the explanation), “bred and head and all the other lines ended in a word that rimed with lead, and Portia hoped that Bassanio would think of that and choose the right casket.”

“Too deep for me. I do remember, now, Miss Porter saying something about it, but I skipped that question,” replied Angela. “Still, I think I passed.”

They were on their way to Polly’s room, but before they reached her door, Lois overtook them.

“Horrible news!” she announced. “Latin exam. this afternoon instead of tomorrow!”

“It can’t be. How do you know?” demanded Betty.

“Saw it posted on the bulletin board.”

“That woman’s a fiend,” Polly groaned. “I intended cramming this whole afternoon, and now what’s to be done?”

“Anything particular you want to know?” Angela inquired. “Perhaps I can help you out a bit.”

“No, there’s no use; you’d have to begin from the very beginning,” replied Polly, looking disconsolately out of the window at the glorious spring day.

Betty ruffled her hair and frowned.

“Something ought to be done to rile the Spartan,” she said. “What shall it be?”

“She knows most of us will flunk,” remarked Lois. “I suppose she’ll be beastly sarcastic.”

Angela, who had been curled up on the window seat and had apparently been paying no attention to the conversation, suddenly remarked:

“Give me a pencil, some one. I’ve an idea; it’s not very clever, but it may annoy the Spartan.”

“What is it?” they all demanded.

But Angela refused to tell. She got up, stretched lazily, and without a word to any one, left the room. In a few minutes she was back, wearing a thoroughly satisfied smile.

“Please tell us where you’ve been,” teased Betty. “I’m bursting with curiosity.”

“Why, I’ve been to the bulletin board. I wrote a little note to the Spartan.”

That was quite enough for the girls. They flew over to the study hall corridor and crowded around the board. There at the end of the notice of the Latin examination, written in a big round hand, were the words:

“I came, I saw, I looked, I ran, I flew, I flunked!”

“Oh, that’s too lovely for words!” gloated Lois. “Angela darling, I’ll love you forever.”

“Come on back to my room,” urged Polly. “We don’t want the Spartan to see us here; she’ll know who did it.”

“You’re right; we had better fly. But O Jemima, wouldn’t I love to watch her face when she first sees it!” chuckled Betty.

Once back in Polly’s room the girls lapsed into silence and all opened Latin books, which doesn’t mean, however, that they studied. Betty was wondering what particular chapter Miss Hale would choose for translation; Angela’s thoughts were busy with a possible rhyme about the hard-heartedness of the Spartan, and Lois and Polly were thinking of the promised walk with Louise, which would have to be given up.

It was Connie who interrupted their thoughts by banging on the door.

“May I come in?” she called.

“Yes; we are all in the depths of despair, but you may come in if you want to,” Polly called dolefully.

“Sweet fight going on in Senior Alley,” Connie began after she had entered the room. “I’ve been down there ever since I came out of the exam, and I heard all about it.”

“Well, for goodness’ sake, tell us what’s the matter,” demanded Angela.

“Don’t be impatient, I’m going to. Listen: Agnes Green,” Connie commenced (Agnes was one of the Seniors and the kind of girl who always had a grudge against some one), “is furious at Louise; you know she always has disliked her because Lu didn’t put her on the team. Well, it seems that the Senior class is divided as to whether or not they should wear white shoes on Commencement. Louise wants to and Agnes doesn’t.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Polly interrupted angrily. “That girl would disagree with her own shadow! But go on.”

“That’s about all I know,” resumed Connie. “Agnes railed at Louise; said she had always influenced the class the wrong way; was unfair, and I don’t know what. When I left, Louise was in tears.”

Connie stopped for breath and then began again.

“And here’s another little bit of news, which will make you love Agnes some more: it seems that her brother and a friend of his from college are coming up here to see her tomorrow. You know the Latin examinations were fixed for then, so what does dear Agnes do but ask the Spartan to change the time so that she can chaperon her and brother and brother’s friend on a nice long drive. Naturally the Spartan jumped at the idea and arranged to give all her exams this very afternoon. Now just what do you think of that?” she finished, flourishing her arms in the air.

The girls were speechless with rage. Finally Betty managed to say:

“Of course we knew about it; that’s what we’ve been holding an indignation meeting over, but we didn’t know whose fault it was.”

“Well, you know it now,” replied Connie, “and I know that I have to go and study; so long, everybody.”

“I suppose I’d better, too,” sighed Betty. “Come and help me, Angela. Jove! I hope it pours rain tomorrow and that Agnes and the Spartan both get drowned!” And Betty, having given vent to her feelings, left the room, taking Angela with her.

Lois and Polly, left alone, faced each other, all thoughts of Latin forgotten.

“What’s to be done?” Polly demanded.

“I don’t know,” Lois answered. “We can’t do much, but I would like Louise to know how we feel about it.”

“We have time to pick her some violets and send them up to her before luncheon,” Polly suggested.

“That’s a good idea; she’ll understand from that.”

The violets were soon gathered and a willing Sophomore was found to deliver them.

When Lois and Polly saw the rest of their class again, they were at luncheon, and Lois asked:

“How did you get on with your cramming, Bet?”

“Oh, don’t! My poor brain is in a dreadful whirl,” groaned Betty. “But did you see the bulletin board?” she added.

“Why? Has the time for the exam been changed again?”

“No, but the Spartan has put up a new notice. Isn’t that a scream?” And Betty chuckled gleefully.

“That is funny,” agreed Lois, “but I do hope some of the girls saw Angela’s note before it was taken down.”

“They did all right; there was a crowd standing in front of it, howling with laughter, when the Spartan arrived. Dot Mead was there and she told me. Oh, the Spartan’s in a sweet rage!” Betty assured them.

“Nothing to what she’ll be in when she sees my paper,” spoke up Connie. “Ah, me, we can’t do more than flunk. If I could only have had this afternoon to study! Drat Agnes Green!”

Lois and Polly exchanged glances and the conversation changed to other subjects.

The much-talked-of and dreaded Latin exam, was not nearly so terrible after all. Although Miss Hale was a very disagreeable person, she was also a very good teacher, and the girls found the answers to the questions much more easily than they had expected.

Lois and Polly handed in their papers about the same time. A few minutes later they met in the corridor, and with a sigh of relief joined arms and sauntered off in the direction of their rooms. Polly said:

“Lois, I’ve an idea—about Agnes, I mean; I’ve been thinking it out all the time I was taking the exam, and I’ve thought of a plan.”

“What is it?” questioned Lois. “I couldn’t think of a thing except killing her, and that wouldn’t do. Did you see Louise smile at us at luncheon? Bless her heart!”

“Yes, but listen,” Polly insisted. “Here’s my plan. Tonight, after the Senior ‘lights out’ bell, we are going down the fire escape and get on the roof of the porch. Agnes’ room is the second from the end, and I happen to know she leaves her window down from the top. We will knock gently—”

“But she’s sure to know it’s some of the girls,” interrupted Lois. “No one ever thinks of burglars up here.”

“I don’t want her to think of burglars,” Polly replied solemnly. “I want her to think of ghosts.”

“Oh, I see. We’re going to play spooks. What a lark! But how are we to do it?”

“I haven’t quite decided about the details, but I will before tonight. Lo, I’m going to give that girl the scare of her life!”

And Polly kept her word. That night at 10.15 the Seniors were awakened by a scream of terror from Agnes Green’s room. She said she had seen a ghost. As the girls were trying to assure her, two figures in long capes were softly stealing back up the fire escape.

“I tell you it was ghosts!” Agnes insisted, in tears. “It had four arms, long white ones, and it waved them and moaned.” And she covered her head with the blankets and shivered at the thought.

Upstairs the two figures had reached Lois’ room.

“I hope she doesn’t die of fright,” whispered one.

“So do I, but I hope she’s good and scared. That was a splendid idea of yours to wear those long-sleeved kimonos,” answered the other.

“Good night,” said the first, and slipped out to her own room.

“Good night,” replied the second. “Louise and Latin are both avenged.”

The next morning Agnes stayed in bed for breakfast, and the Seniors said she had had a nightmare, and it had made her very nervous.

Polly and Lois were rather heavy-eyed and kept exchanging glances.

Of course no one suspected them of having anything to do with Agnes’ dream, that is, no one except Louise. She met them in the corridor after breakfast and whispered very softly:

“Thank you for my beautiful violets and ‘the ghost.’ I understood and I think you’re both darlings!”

That was all they ever heard on the subject.

Agnes’ brother and his friend arrived, and with the Spartan for chaperon, they went for a drive, but Agnes said she didn’t enjoy it as much as she had expected to, she was so dreadfully upset.

CHAPTER XVII—POLLY INTERVENES

Polly had just washed her hair, and she was sitting on her shirt waist box before the open window drying it. It was a gloriously warm, sunshiny day and the twitter of birds, the spring smell of the earth and the lazy hellos of the girls as they greeted one another on the campus below, gave her a drowsy feeling of contentment. Exams were nearly all over, and every one seemed to be just waiting in happy anticipation of Commencement.

Except for a short talk by Mrs. Baird after dinner it was to be a free evening and the girls had been granted permission to stay out of doors until it was really dark. Mrs. Baird had said that now was the time to take a big deep breath before rushing into the coming week of excitement.

Polly, half asleep, felt the top of her head and found it nearly dry—she shifted her position to a half kneeling one, shook her hair over her face so that the sun might shine on the back of it, and cradling her head on her arm resumed her dreaming.

“I wonder where Lo is,” she mused—“probably practicing in the gym with Bet. I wish I hadn’t washed my hair. It seems awfully silly to waste this beautiful day just breathing. I wonder what we could do. Why doesn’t Lo come up; she knows I can’t go out. I believe I’m lonesome.” Polly sat up as this thought took shape in her mind. “How absurd,” she said aloud. And then she laughed. It was funny to think that after all the years she had spent alone that she could so soon forget how to amuse herself. It was the first time she had realized what a difference Seddon Hall had made to her.

“I’d better get used to it,” she said again, but she looked very doleful at the prospect.

A few minutes later, as she was feeling sorry for herself, a rap sounded at the door and Lois’ voice called:

“Oh, Poll, are you there?”

“Yes, come in.”

“I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

“I told you I was going to wash my hair.”

“Well, if you did I forgot it, and I’ve been all over the grounds trying to find you.” Lois poked her head out of the window. “She’s here, Bet, come on up,” she called. “We have a plan for tonight,” she continued; “it’s too nice to waste time just roaming around.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking. What are you going to do?”

Polly, now quite awake, was rubbing her head with the towel in an attempt to hurry the drying.

“Nothing very exciting, it’s Bet’s suggestion.”

“I like that,” Betty herself burst in upon them. “Not very exciting, just one of Betty’s silly ideas.” Lois and Polly laughed heartily. Nothing was quite so amusing as Betty trying to look offended.

“It’s a perfectly good idea, Poll,” Betty continued, “and fits in with this nice lazy day.”

“What is it?”

“Just a walk to the fort after dinner. Of course when we get there, we can sing and—”

“Thrilling, Bet, thrilling,” teased Lois, but Polly made her stop by pushing her down on the bed and stuffing a pillow over her mouth. To Betty she said:

“It’s a bully idea. It ought to be wonderful near the river tonight. Who’s going?”

Lois struggled under the pillow. “I’ll be good, let me up,” she pleaded. “Ugh! you nearly smothered me. I’ll tell you who’s going. We are, of course, and Ange and Connie, and the two Dorothys, because one of them can sing, and perhaps Florence and Louise and—oh, anybody else that wants to come along.”

“Who’ll chaperon?”

“Oh, I never thought of that.”

“Let’s ask Miss Porter; I know she’d like it.” It was Polly’s suggestion.

“Fine, she’s just the one.”

“Not if the two Dorothys come,” Betty said decidedly. “Have you forgotten the row in class?”

“Then let’s drop the two Dorothys,” replied Lois.

“Wait, I’ve an idea,” Polly exclaimed; “let’s ask only the girls we like awfully well. We don’t know when we’ll ever be together again and—”

“Oh, Poll!” Lois protested. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, we don’t know. Louise and Florence graduate; Connie may go to the conservatory, and Ange—”

“I see what you mean,” Betty interrupted. “Make it a sort of farewell reunion and of course we’ll take Miss Porter—she’s our favorite teacher.”

“It’ll be worse than a funeral,” Lois said dolefully, “but it’s rather a pretty idea.”

“Lo, stop being sentimental; let’s get the girls,” suggested Betty. “Poll, hurry up and fix your hair.”

“It’s still sopping.”

“Never mind, stick it up any way. It’s too warm to make any difference.”

Later they stopped to consult on the “Bridge of Sighs.” They had asked Angela and Connie, and Louise and Florence, and had left them delighted with the plan. Louise and Florence had a class meeting on, but they promised to come for a little while.

“Who else?” asked Betty, expectantly.

“I don’t know,” replied Polly; “I can’t think of any one.”

“Neither can I,” Lois added, “except Miss Porter.”

“Why, that’s perfectly silly; don’t tell me there are only four girls in school we like,” protested Betty.

“You’re forgetting ourselves,” Lois reminded her.

“Yes, but even then.”

“Let’s each choose one other girl,” suggested Polly. “Lo, you first, who do you want?”

Lois puckered her eyebrows and tried hard to think; finally she said, “I just don’t want any one else and that’s the truth.”

Polly smiled, “Bet, it’s your turn; who do you want?”

“Mine? All right, let’s see. I like a lot of girls—there’s you and Lois and Ange and Connie—and—Oh, Jemima, but you’re all going and I can’t think of any one else, can you?”

“No, I can’t,” Polly said, laughing, “so that’s settled. Let’s go and ask Miss Porter.”

They found the English teacher in a perfect ocean of examination papers, a daub of red ink on one ear.

“Come in, girls, I suppose you want to know if you’ve passed,” she said, smiling the welcome she always felt for this particular trio.

“Why, our papers aren’t corrected are they?” Betty asked, excitedly. “I thought it would be days before we knew.”

“Oh, please tell us,” begged Polly.

“Not until I hear why you came,” Miss Porter said.

“Oh, no, tell us our marks first, please, please, please,” Lois beseeched.

“Very well, I will. I’m too delighted to keep it to myself another minute,” Miss Porter’s eyes snapped. “You all passed wonderfully well—I can’t tell you your marks, that wouldn’t be fair to the rest, but I am so proud of you all.”

They accepted this unexpected good news with delight. Literature was more important to them than any other subject.

“Oh, great.”

“Isn’t that bully!”

“I was scared to death, the examination was so hard.”

“Now tell me why you came.” Miss Porter put down her pen and waited.

“Will you?”

“We thought—”

“Tonight—” They all began at once.

“It’s your idea, Poll, go on,” Lois said.

“Well,” Polly began.

“Polly, Polly,” Miss Porter chided, “all your wells will surely make an ocean and drown you some one of these days.”

“Oh, I know it, but it’s such an easy way to begin a sentence. I won’t do it again.” Polly took a long breath.

“You know tonight there is nothing to do, and we thought it would be nice to go for a walk, out to the fort, just we three, and Angela and Connie; Florence and Louise said they’d come for a little while if they could.”

“Yes, and?” Miss Porter asked inquiringly.

“Oh, well, of course, we want you to come, too,” Polly ended, rather lamely.

Miss Porter sat very still for a minute and then she smiled, and when Miss Porter smiled it was a rare treat. If you watched her long enough you always ended by smiling, too. “That is a jolly idea,” she said, enthusiastically. “Of course I’ll come. I can’t think of any nicer way of spending this lovely evening.” Then suddenly her face fell. “Oh, my dear children, I forgot.”

“What?” they demanded.

“We haven’t a free evening at all. We are to have a lecture.”

“You mean Mrs. Baird? But she’s only going to tell us the plans for next week; it won’t take a minute,” Betty said assuringly.

“No, that’s not it; this is another quite unexpected lecture. Mrs. Baird told the faculty about it after luncheon, but it slipped my mind.”