“Oh,” Lois groaned, “what’s it to be?”
“A lecture on New England during the Revolution, by Professor Hale.”
“Hale? The Spartan—Miss Porter, did she have anything to do with it?” Betty’s eyes flashed indignation.
“The Professor is Miss Hale’s cousin, I believe, and she was responsible for his coming. I think the lecture will be a very interesting one. He is going to show pictures.” Miss Porter tried to be cheerful.
“Lantern slides?” demanded Polly.
“Yes, I believe that’s it. I’m sorry about the walk, it would have been so nice.” Miss Porter looked wistfully out of the window, as if she could see the old fort bathed in moonlight that very second. “But I am sure we will enjoy the lecture,” she added hastily. The girls knew that no matter how strongly Miss Porter sympathized with them she would not permit a word against Miss Hale.
They left in silence and waited until they were in Polly’s room, with the door closed, before they gave vent to their feelings.
Lois threw herself on the bed in despair. “If that isn’t the meanest thing I ever heard of.”
“To have to stay in on an evening like this and listen to History,” Betty raged.
“History and the Spartan’s cousin,” Lois, cross as she was, could not help laughing at the combination.
“I suppose it’s to get even; we weren’t awfully pleasant about the Latin exam.” Betty was jumping at conclusions.
“Oh, Bet, how silly.” Polly turned from her place at the window. “The Spartan’s not as bad as all that, she probably thinks we’ll enjoy it.”
“Yes, she does,” Betty was skeptical.
“Polly, talk sense,” Lois begged. “How could any one think that we’d rather listen to—Oh, mercy, when I think of it—the Revolution, battles and dates—Maybe the Spartan means well, only—”
But Polly was again looking out of the window. Her eye traveled over the familiar objects. The tennis court, the gym roof, and a little farther on, the corner of the stables and the power house. Something in the queer shaped little stone building caught her attention.
Betty was still raving. “But Lo, that’s not the worst of it, we’ll have to look at millions and hundreds of postal cards, while the Spartan’s cousin explains them like this:
“My dear young ladies,” Betty snatched up a nail file from Polly’s dresser and pointed to a picture on the wall; “in the foreground of this beautiful picture, we have the exact spot where five minute men fell after a heroic encounter with the British, in the year—”
“Oh, Bet, do stop; it’s too horrible. Can’t we cut?” There was a moment’s silence.
“We cut one lecture,” Polly said with meaning.
“And we promised Mrs. Baird we’d never do it again,” Lois finished for her.
Polly whistled softly and reached for her sweater.
“Where are you going?” Betty demanded.
“For a walk, and I don’t want any company,” Polly replied, going out quietly and shutting the door.
Lois and Betty were too surprised to speak. And when they had recovered sufficiently to go out and follow Polly, it was too late, for Polly had chosen the most unlikely spot for her walk.
At dinner that night, Mrs. Baird announced the lecture. It was received with respectful silence. The rest of the girls were quite as disappointed as Lois and Betty had been—Polly was the only cheerful one at the Freshman table, and Betty whispered to Lois:
“I can’t make Polly out; she acts as if she were pleased.”
“Poll,” Lois appealed direct, “what is the matter with you, do you really think you are going to like this lecture?”
Polly smiled an inscrutable smile—“History is my favorite lesson,” she said primly.
After dinner she disappeared. There would be fifteen minutes before the lecture began and she had enough to do to fill each one. She went straight to the power house. Pat was standing in the doorway, his pipe in his mouth, and an expression on his face that boded ill to all lectures.
“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Polly greeted him.
Pat looked surprised. “Oh, you’re back again. What is it you want to know now?” he asked.
“Nothing much, I just thought it would be fun to see you fix up the connection for the lantern,” Polly answered idly.
“Sure, it’s all fixed. I’m sorry; had I knowed you was that interested, I’d a waited.”
“Oh, pshaw.” Polly looked very crestfallen.
“It’s an easy matter to show you how it’s done, though. Come inside.”
After a lengthy and voluble discourse on the one hand, and eager attention on the other, Polly asked:
“So, really, if you just pulled down that switch the lantern wouldn’t work up at school?”
“Not till it was turned on again, but why—”
“Pat,” Polly interrupted hastily, “don’t you think it’s time to go up to school? They can’t begin without you.”
Pat’s face fell and he sighed reproachfully.
“There, I suppose you’re right; I’ll be getting my coat.”
“Pat, do you like to work the lantern for lecture?”
“I do not; well, that’s not always.”
“How about tonight?”
“Tonight?” Pat hesitated, tried to keep his reserve, and then gave it up. “It’s like this, Miss, tonight I made plans to go to the village, and so you can see that this lecture coming sudden like, is not, in a manner of speaking, welcome to me.”
“Hard luck; I’m sorry,” Polly said airily. “It can’t be helped, though; I guess we’d better start.” They left the power house and had gone about a hundred feet when Polly stopped.
“Gracious, Pat, I’ve left my Latin book in the power house. I’ll have to go back for it. There goes the bell; you’d better hurry.”
Professor Irvington Hale mounted the platform in Assembly room at exactly seven-fifteen. He was a young old man with a knotty forehead and very large ears. He wore horn rim glasses and he carried a black ebony pointer in one hand. Betty described him adequately when she whispered to Lois: “He’s an owl.”
Lois smothered a giggle and turned to Polly—They were all sitting in the front row. “Two hours of that; O dear.”
Polly was occupied in watching Mr. Hale, very closely. She only said: “Oh, cheer up,” and kept on watching.
“Good evening, young ladies. I—er—have the pleasure to address you this evening on New England and its historical past—” The professor was already stumbling on his way. After his opening remark he coughed, shifted his feet, and consulted a card that he held in the palm of one hand. “First picture, please,” he said rather abruptly.
The lights were turned out promptly, and the girls settled down with a sigh of resignation.
They waited, no picture came; the white curtain waved ghost-like in the dark. The younger girls began to giggle nervously and then some one turned on the light. Mrs. Baird went to the back of the room.
“What’s the matter, Pat, is there something wrong with the lantern?”
Pat scratched his head in solemn wonder. “Sure, there should be nothing wrong with it,” he said.
“Perhaps the trouble is at the power house,” Mrs. Baird suggested. “You better go as quickly as possible and find out. And in the meantime,” she continued, returning to the platform, “perhaps Professor Hale will talk to us.”
But Professor Hale would not, could not. He had just his lecture, all learned by heart. A picture slipped in at the wrong time would have seriously upset him. He fled from the very idea of attempting to talk against time to this room full of fluttering beribboned young ladies. He refused point-blank—
The school waited restlessly for Pat’s return. It was prompt. Mrs. Baird rose as he entered, and there followed a low voiced and very lengthy explanation in which the words “wouldn’t happen in a hundred years,” “short circuit,” and “sorry to disappoint the gentleman,” entered repeatedly.
Mrs. Baird explained that it would be impossible to fix the lantern that night, and tried again to induce Professor Hale to give a short talk, but to no avail. He departed with the Spartan without another word.
“There will be no lecture tonight, girls,” Mrs. Baird announced, “and you may go out as you planned to do. Don’t go too far away from the house and be sure and return promptly when you hear the bell.” And glancing at the clock she added, smiling: “You haven’t lost much time.”
It was the merriest of parties that set out a few minutes later for the old fort.
Lois and Betty tried their hardest to find out just how Polly was responsible, for responsible they knew she was, but Polly refused to say anything. Her eyes danced with fun and impishness as she insisted it was really too bad that they’d had to miss the lecture. When the others joined them Lois and Betty dropped the subject. They sang all the school songs, and did a great deal of speculating about the future. Miss Porter told story after story of college.
“It’s been the jolliest and at the same time the saddest evening of the whole year,” Connie declared, as they hurried home at the first sound of the bell. “Hasn’t it, though; it’s been so nice just being together. I don’t believe we’ll any of us ever forget it,” Angela agreed.
Polly thought of that remark as she sat up in bed an hour later.
“I know I’ll never forget it,” she said to her conscience—“It really was a wonderful evening, and it couldn’t have been so very wicked for me to turn off that switch. And oh dear, Pat was so funny; I know he was pleased. It was hard for him, though, having to do all the fibbing. I wonder why things you know are wrong seem right sometimes. This was the sort of thing Aunt Hannah would have said ‘I’m shocked’ about, but when I tell Uncle Roddy he’ll only say: ‘Good for you, Tiddle de Winks.’ It’s too much for me, I don’t understand,” she finished, drowsily. And in a few minutes sleep relieved her of any further need of explanation.
“There will be a meeting of the big team and substitutes in classroom A at 2 o’clock this afternoon. Please be prompt,” read Lois, standing in front of the bulletin board. She had finished her last exam. and was free for the rest of the week.
It was Thursday and just one week before Commencement. Mrs. Baird believed in having the examinations over before the excitement of the last days gave the girls something else to think about.
School continued, however, until three days before the close. The teachers took that time to go over the papers with the girls and have a general review.
Lois, still gazing at the notice, caught sight of her chum leaving the schoolroom and called to her:
“Hey, Polly, come here and look at this.”
“Hum! Wonder what it’s all about,” mused Polly after she had read it. “Do you know?”
“Final preparation for Field Day, of course. Oh, Polly, if we’d only get a chance to play!” sighed Lois.
“No such good luck. You may, but I’ve had my chance. Why couldn’t I have waited and sprained my ankle for this game, when I’m not needed!” grumbled Polly.
“What! And missed Commencement! Poll, you’re crazy!”
“Well, perhaps I am. Anyhow, let’s go down to Senior Alley and see if we can find Louise,” suggested Polly. “I want to know what’s up.”
They found Louise in her room and began at once to question her.
“What are we going to have a team meeting for?” demanded Lois.
“Are any of the big team sick?” Polly added eagerly.
“I never knew such inquisitive children,” answered Louise. “I knew you’d be here the minute you’d seen the notice. Can’t you possess your souls in patience until 2 o’clock?”
“No, we can’t possibly. Go on and tell us, please,” begged Lois, putting both arms around Louise’s neck and ruffling her hair. “We won’t open our mouths,” she promised.
“You know we love you an awful lot, and you might give us a tiny hint,” teased Polly. “Besides, we won’t go till you do.”
“Imps,” declared Louise, and pulling the girls down on the bed beside her and putting an arm around each, she continued: “Listen to me: to get rid of you, I’ll tell you part, not all, mind, of what we are going to discuss.”
“Well, go on; don’t stop,” prompted Polly and Lois, as Louise stopped for breath.
“Of course you know that Flora Illington’s place is not filled so we have to decide definitely on another substitute to play center and—”
“You’ll choose Betty,” finished Polly, with a rush.
“Will you tell her today?” demanded Lois excitedly. “Oh, I am glad!”
And to show their entire approval of the idea, both girls threw their arms around their poor defenseless captain and hugged her until she called for help.
“Woh!” she exclaimed when they had finally let her go. “If I had known how you were going to treat me, I never would have told you; you’ve pulled my hair all down, wretches.”
“Never mind that; you can put it up again. Tell us when you are going to tell Betty,” urged Lois.
“We’ll have to vote on it as a matter of form, but of course she’ll get it. But promise me you won’t breathe a word about it until I say you may.”
“We promise; but won’t Betty be thrilled!” laughed Polly.
The luncheon bell interrupted them and they left Louise madly fixing her hair, to join the line.
At the table Betty asked:
“What are you two so quiet about?”
Polly and Lois exchanged smiles.
“You’ll see soon enough; it’s about you,” Polly told her, and for fear too much had been said, Lois added:
“It’s something terrible!”
Betty stopped in the act of putting some tomato catsup on her croquette to demand:
“Which exam. have I flunked, or is it all of them?”
“Worse than that,” answered Lois. “But you’ll soon know.”
At 2 o’clock the teams met in classroom A and Betty’s name was put up for substitute, and as Louise had prophesied, every one voted yes. The girls all adored Betty and had been sorry to see her left out in the first election on account of the fouls she always made. But now when her name came up again and they remembered the plucky fight she had made the day of the Indoor Meet, they were only too delighted to welcome her as one of the “subs.”
“Hadn’t we better call her in for the rest of the meeting?” suggested Louise. “Polly, will you go and find her? Don’t tell her what she’s wanted for; just bring her here.”
A few minutes later Betty arrived, looking very apprehensive, and Louise told her with all due form and ceremony that she had been chosen to fill Flora’s place on the team.
Betty’s delight knew no bounds. The girls cheered her and were very strenuous in their congratulations. It was fully fifteen minutes before the meeting came to any sort of order. When things did finally quiet down, Louise, as captain, took the chair.
“Field Day is not two weeks off,” she began. “You all know that we are going to play the Fenwick School again this year and we must win.”
Then looking at Polly, she added: “Please be careful and don’t get any broken ankles or arms, for you may all be needed. Remember, they beat us last year.”
“That was because we played on their floor and it was strange to us,” spoke up Florence Guile. She had played in the game the year before and felt she must defend the team’s honor. “This year we play here and we will win; you see if we don’t.”
At this point Nora Peters, one of the Juniors who was not on the team, knocked at the door. She had a letter in her hand and she spoke hurriedly to Louise.
“I am awfully sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I’ve just had a letter from one of the Fenwick girls, and I thought it might interest you. It’s about the team.”
“Good! Read it to us!” exclaimed half a dozen voices.
“This is the important part,” began Nora as she read:
“‘We have a wonderful team this year and so far we haven’t had a single defeat.’”
(“O Jemima!” groaned Betty.)
“‘We play four other teams every year; you play only two, don’t you? Our centers are great! I remember last year when your team played here how easily we beat you! I hate to say it, Nora dear, but we’re going to beat you again!’”
“That’s all she says about the team,” Nora finished, folding up the letter. “No, wait a minute,” she added. “This may interest you, too. She says:
“‘We have the most adorable mascot; wait till you see him; and he’s never failed us yet.’”
“Thanks, ever so much,” Louise exclaimed as soon as she stopped reading. “That’s valuable information. We’re much obliged to your friend.”
“I wouldn’t have said anything about it if she hadn’t bragged so,” Nora answered, backing to the door. “But mind, you beat them well, so that I can say ‘I told you so.’”
“We will, we will,” cried the team with one voice.
“Now what do you think of that?” demanded Madelaine Ames, one of the guards, a tall lanky girl with straight hair.
“What did she say about a mascot?” Betty inquired eagerly.
“That they had an adorable one,” replied Mary Reeves, the other guard.
“We ought to have one, too,” chimed in Helen Reed, the jumping center. “Something original, I say; I’m tired of cats and dogs.”
“Everybody think hard,” suggested Louise, “and if you think of something, let me know and I’ll call a meeting. We can’t let them get ahead of us even in a mascot.”
After a few unimportant details were discussed, the meeting broke up and the girls separated, each to think of a fitting mascot.
The next morning Lois, Betty and Polly, having finished all their exams, had the whole glorious day to themselves. Right after breakfast they disappeared into the woods and sought their favorite brook. When they reached it, they were very hot and tired, for the day was warm, and they had run all the way.
“Phew!” gasped Betty, throwing herself down beside the stream. “I’m hot.”
“So am I,” Polly agreed, resting her chin on her hands. “My feet, particularly. I have on these old hot gym shoes.”
“Why don’t we go in paddling?” suggested Lois. “It couldn’t hurt us; it’s so lovely and warm.”
No sooner said than done. In two minutes their shoes and stockings were off and they were wading, ankle-deep, in the cool water.
“Great, isn’t it?” gurgled Betty, looking down at her toes. “Ouch! Be careful of this spot; there’s a sharp stone,” she warned.
As Polly was about to look at the spot Betty was pointing to, a queer chattering noise up in the tree above her head caught her attention. Looking up she saw a dark brown “something” sitting on a limb of the tree.
“Look!” she whispered.
“What is it?” gasped Lois when she had seen.
“Why, don’t you know?” Betty demanded. “We’ve simply got to get it; I’ll climb up the tree.”
“Be careful not to scare it,” cautioned Polly.
But there was no fear of that, for as soon as Betty reached the limb occupied by “it,” there was a scuffle, and she felt something land on her shoulder.
“I’ve got it, safe and sound,” she called to the girls below.
“Look how thin it is,” said Lois when Betty was again on terra firma. “Let’s take it back to school and feed it, it must have run away.”
“Of course we will—the darling—and—Oh, Polly, Lo, why didn’t we think of it the minute we saw it? We’ll have it for a mascot!”
That afternoon there was a very important team meeting in one of the classrooms. It lasted just a few minutes, but when the girls came out they were all smiling very mysteriously, and they seemed to be delighted about something.
There was a good deal of smuggling of food into the cellar, of which Mrs. Baird had given Betty the key.
For the remaining few days before Field Day, every time one of the team met Betty, Lois or Polly, they would inquire very mysteriously how “it” was, and before many days passed the word went round the school that Seddon Hall had discovered a worthy mascot.
Field Day arrived and with it the excitement known to any girl who has played in a big game of basket-ball.
“Oh, Polly, I’m so thrilled!” exclaimed Lois, putting her arm around her chum and dancing wildly down the corridor. “I’m glad my family isn’t coming.”
“So am I,” Polly answered, thinking of Bob. “If we could only get a chance to play!”
“Hush! I don’t even dare think of such a thing!”
“Well, I do, and I’ll bet anything that the big team girls can’t pass the ball as fast as you and Betty and I can.”
“They can’t. I watched last practice game and they made some dreadful mistakes with the signals. By the way, how is ‘it’ this morning?”
“Fine, Betty took some food to the cellar right after breakfast. The darling’s really getting fat.”
“Here comes Bet now. Oh, Betty, here we are!” Lois called as the third member of the trio appeared at the other end of the corridor.
“Thank goodness, I’ve found you,” Betty answered. “All substitutes are wanted in the gym. Louise is waiting for you; hurry up.”
The above conversation took place in Freshman Alley about ten o’clock in the morning. Throughout the entire school the game was the one subject that was being discussed. The girls had pinned the Seddon Hall colors on the fronts of their sailor suits, and the long green and white ribbons gave the required holiday effect.
In the gym the more ardent admirers of the team were busy with the decorations. The big Seddon Hall banner almost covered one end of the room and the other walls were hung with small school flags and streamers. Angela and Connie, both seated on the floor, were carefully polishing the handsome silver loving cup.
It was upon this scene of preparation that Betty, followed by Polly and Lois, entered.
“Here they are,” she announced to Louise who, with the rest of the team, was waiting for them at the other end of the gym. “I’ve found them at last.”
“That’s good; I guess we are all here now,” Louise replied. “I wanted to tell you that the Fenwick girls get here at 12.05. The teams and substitutes are all to have luncheon in the younger children’s dining-room. We will have to entertain them and show them around, of course, but, girls, don’t talk too much; remember, they may be trying to pump. I guess that’s all I wanted to say,” Louise finished, “except,” she added miserably, “to remind you all to do your very best for the honor of dear old Seddon Hall.”
“Of course we will!” shouted the team, and Madelaine Ames, jumping up from her seat, asked excitedly:
“Who’s the finest captain in the world?”
“Louise Preston,” came the hearty response.
Louise, to cover her confusion, called Betty to her and asked if “it” had been fed.
“Fed! It’s been stuffed,” Betty assured her. “But who has the bow for its neck?”
“I have it in my room,” answered Helen Reed. “If you’ll come with me I’ll give it to you.” And the two girls left the gym.
It had been decided that the big team should march into the gym first, followed by the substitutes, Betty leading the still mysterious mascot, and Polly and Lois carrying the huge Seddon Hall banner.
The girls left the gym to await the arrival of the visiting team after Louise had finished talking to them. At quarter past twelve they arrived, and at the first sound of the carry-all’s approach, the Seddon Hall girls started cheering, and Louise, as captain, stepped forward to welcome them.
Lois, Betty and Polly moved a little to one side in order to get a good look at their opponents.
“That girl’s a giant,” whispered Lois, pointing at one of the Fenwick girls. “I’ll bet she plays home.”
“Seems to me they are all giants,” Betty grumbled. “I suppose that’s their mascot in that basket; well, it can’t beat ours.”
“Why, there are only nine of them,” pointed out Polly excitedly. “That means only three ‘subs.’ What luck!”
“Come here, you three,” called Louise from the driveway. “Some more of our substitutes,” she explained as the trio shook hands all around.
As they all stood exchanging greetings, Mary Reeves whispered in Polly’s ear, as she pretended to fix her hair ribbon:
“It’s all over for us.”
The girls finally sauntered off in groups to inspect the gym and locker rooms or to look around the grounds. Polly, Lois, and Betty had undertaken to entertain the three visiting subs and were taking them in the direction of the woods.
“Have you a mascot?” asked one of them, a fair-haired girl of about fifteen.
Polly told her that they had, and then abruptly changed the subject by asking:
“Have you had to substitute often this year?”
“No, I haven’t, but May has,” answered the Fenwick sub.
“Do tell us about it,” Polly inquired.
May was only too anxious to have her turn in the conversation.
“It was just before Easter,” she began, “and we were playing the Whitehead team. I came in the second half; the score was a tie and we couldn’t make a point. The other team had a free throw on account of our foul and Jane—she’s our forward—told me to watch, and when she threw her braid over her right shoulder, to throw high. Well, I watched and did as she told me, and we made a goal.”
“How terribly exciting!” murmured Lois without changing a muscle of her face. “And you just won the game by a single point?”
“Yes, it was thrilling,” May agreed. “Of course if Esther hadn’t had to have gotten out of the game, we would have made more points; they know each other’s signals so well.”
“And signals make such a difference,” Betty remarked, giving Polly’s arm a surreptitious pinch.
Polly smiled in reply and in a few minutes excused herself.
“There is something rather important that I must attend to before luncheon,” she explained.
Fifteen minutes later, on her way to the dining-room she slipped a note into Louise’s hand.
“Read it when you are alone,” she whispered, and this is what Louise read:
“The two forwards signal with their braids. Over the right shoulder, means throw high. Tell Madelaine and Mary to watch.”
The game was scheduled to start at 3 o’clock sharp and by 2.30 the teams were all in their suits and the gym was filling up with the girls and the faculty. At the stroke of three the Fenwick team entered and marched to the opposite side of the gym, and came to a halt under a banner of yellow and white, their school colors. Two of their substitutes followed, carrying a white satin cushion on which sat a tortoise-shell cat with a big white bow on its neck. On close inspection it was discovered to have six toes on one paw, and was therefore very lucky.
As they entered, the Seddon Hall girls gave them a cheer and then sang the welcoming song, written by Angela for the occasion. There was just enough time for every one to quiet down before the home team appeared. Louise Preston led, carrying the ball, then came Florence Guile; they were the two forwards and were followed in turn by Mary Reeves and Madelaine Ames, the guards, and Grace Hampton and Alice Wentworth, the centers.
At sight of them the school set up a mighty cheer that stopped abruptly, however, as Betty, with a little brown monkey perched on her shoulder, entered, at the head of the substitutes.
The mysterious secret of the mascot was out. Seddon Hall had had many and varied animals for mascots in its time, but never before had a live monkey attended one of the Field Day games. It was fully ten minutes before the teams were able to take their places on the floor, so great was the school’s delight. Had the organ grinder who had lost his pet witnessed this scene he might have felt recompensed for his loss.
When at last Miss Stuart could command silence, she blew the whistle, tossed up the ball, and the game was on.
From the very first it seemed to Polly, Lois and Betty, watching from the side lines, that they must face defeat. After the first toss-up, the Fenwick center caught the ball, passed it up the floor to her forward, and before the Seddon Hall girls could realize it, a goal was won.
After three unsuccessful attempts to get the ball away from her opponent, Grace Hampton lost her nerve and started to cry. She was a good player when all went well, but once unnerved she was practically useless for the rest of the game.
In the middle of a scrimmage the ball rolled out of bounds, and Miss Stuart called time for a minute.
“Get ready to get in the game, Polly,” whispered Louise hurriedly. “You may be needed.”
Polly tore off her sweater and waited. The game, after the minute’s time was up, began again. Alice Wentworth played too hard in her attempt to support Grace and fouled for roughness. As the Fenwick forward prepared to throw for her basket, Louise asked to put in a substitute. Grace left the floor in tears and Polly took her place.
She played like a little fury for the rest of the first half, but to no purpose, for Alice Wentworth was now thoroughly wild and could give her no support.
“What is the matter with that girl?” groaned Betty, stamping with rage. “Can’t she understand a straight signal! Oh, if they’d only let me in!”
“I can’t do it all,” Polly cried desperately as she dived for the ball near the line where Lois and Betty sat.
“You’ve got to,” Lois answered. “How much longer will this half last?” she asked, turning to Betty.
“Long enough to leave no chance for us. Oh, Lo, they’ve made another basket!” And Betty wrung her hands in despair.
After a few minutes more of desperate struggling to keep the ball away from the other team, Miss Stuart blew the whistle, and the first half was over. The score was 5—0 in the Fenwick team’s favor.
The school cheered half-heartedly, and under Connie’s vigorous leadership, they sang to each member of the team in the vain hope of encouraging them. Polly was completely out of breath and Lois made her lie flat on her back and Betty forbid her talking.
After a doleful fifteen minutes the whistle blew again and the second half started. Up went the ball, and despite Polly’s frantic efforts to stop it, it flew straight in the direction of the wrong goal. The fact that Madelaine and Mary knew the Fenwick signals helped considerably, for they managed to keep them from getting some baskets which they might otherwise have made. The ball seemed to be always at their end of the floor.
To the girls on the side lines it looked hopeless, when suddenly things began to happen. Alice fouled three times for roughness and was put out of the game.
“Thank goodness,” Polly whispered as Betty took her place. “Don’t forget the old signals.”
Up went the ball again, but when it came down, it was in Polly’s hands. A cry went up from the school. Betty raised her arm and put up two fingers, and Polly threw her the ball, low, swift, and straight as a die. Betty bounced it to the line and threw high to Florence, who, as she afterwards declared, was dreaming, for the ball struck her full on the nose, and in a second her handkerchief was covered with blood.
Time was called and although Florence insisted that she would be all right in a minute, Miss King made her leave the floor. Louise called Lois to take her place.
“Now to show them some real playing,” Betty exclaimed excitedly.
From the second the ball touched Polly’s hands after the toss-up until, by a few swift passes, Louise had thrown it in the basket, the Fenwick team never had a chance at it. It sped like lightning from Polly to Betty, to Lois, to Louise. Seddon Hall had never seen such passing, and the girls showed their appreciation by prolonged cheers.
Time after time they repeated the same thing. Without doubt they had found themselves, and the Fenwick team seemed powerless to stop them.
“Yi! That’s the way to do it!” shouted Betty as Louise made her fifth basket and the Fenwick captain asked to put in a substitute for center. But substitutes were of no avail; nothing could stop the Seddon Hall team. Once in a while the ball would trickle towards one of the Fenwick forwards, only to be batted back by Mary or Madelaine into Polly’s or Betty’s waiting hands. Once there, it was but a few swift passes, and Louise would throw it triumphantly into the basket.
Not one goal could the other team make after the first half, and when at last the game ended, the score was 9—5 in Seddon Hall’s favor.
When the final whistle blew there was a mad rush, and the girls on the team were hoisted high on the shoulders of the delighted school. Some one threw the big green and white banner around Louise and put the rather frightened mascot into her arms, and singing and cheering wildly, they carried her to the other end of the gym before the table whereon the silver cup had been placed.
Polly, Lois and Betty escaped as soon as the excited girls would let them, and jumping out of their gym suits they met, a few minutes later, in Roman Alley.
“Oh, but that was a game!” gloated Betty. “Why did it ever end!”
“I nearly died of joy when you came in,” Polly exclaimed. “And when Lo took Florence’s place, well—” But Polly could find no words to express her feelings.
“I’ll bet those Fenwick girls had the surprise of their lives. I heard Nora Peters rubbing it in to her friend that wrote her that letter. And as for mascots, wasn’t their cat stupid when compared to our darling?” Lois demanded gleefully.
“Oh, there you are!” called Louise’s voice from the top of the stairs. “Make room for us,” she added as she came down, followed by Mary and Madelaine.
“We were just talking about the game, naturally,” explained Lois. “You certainly can make baskets, O mighty Captain,” she added, bowing low before Louise.
“I?” questioned Louise. “You know very well I had nothing to do with the game. You three saved the day; how am I going to thank you?”
“It was certainly a relief when you came in,” sighed Madelaine. “Mary and I were almost all in.”
“I’d given the game up for lost,” Louise continued, putting her arm around Polly and Lois and smiling gratefully at Betty, “until you started those wonderful passes. You must have done an awful amount of practicing that I didn’t dream of,” she added.
The three girls looked at one another and grinned foolishly, and Betty said:
“Certainly not!’
“Wasn’t that a wonderful catch Mary made?” asked Lois.
“Yes; but did you see the high one Florence stopped?”
“Poor old Florence; how’s her nose?”
“That Fenwick center almost killed me.”
And a thousand other questions were asked and answered, and to the splash, splash of the water as it ran in their tubs, the victorious team played the game over again in words.
It was the morning of the musical and the day before Commencement. Lessons were over for the year, and all the girls were in a high state of holiday excitement.
Connie’s name was on the program twice, the first time for a two piano piece with Nora Peters, and the second for a very difficult sonata by herself. The professor had promised that if she were encored, she might play one of her own compositions. So Connie, full of thrills, practiced night and day.
Angela, left to herself, joined forces with Betty and together with Polly and Lois they were always at the service of the Senior class. They were kept pretty busy, running errands and doing the dozen and one things that were to be done before the musical.
Just now they were sitting on the floor of the assembly room platform, waiting for orders. The Seniors had their hands full with the decorations and were transforming the dignified old room into a bower of greens and dogwood.
Madelaine Ames approached Louise with a very worried expression on her usually smiling face.
“We haven’t half enough branches,” she complained. “We need loads more dogwood. Can’t Polly and Lois get some for us?”
“Hush!” cautioned Louise, for they were within ear-shot of the four girls. “Don’t you realize that their hands mustn’t be all scratched up? Ask Bet and Angela.”
Madelaine crossed the platform to where the four sat in mystified silence, for they had overheard every word of the conversation between the two older girls.
“Betty,” she called, “will you and Angela get us some more big branches of dogwood or apple blossoms? Those stupid Sofs brought in only little twigs. Take one of the stable boys with you to do the heavy work for you. You know about the size we want.”
“Of course we will,” answered Betty, “and we’ll bring you the trees back if you want them,” she called as they disappeared. On their way to the stables Angela said:
“I’d like to know what Lo and Poll are having their hands saved for.”
As she said it, Polly and Lois, still on the platform, were wondering the same thing.
“Can’t we do something for you?” Lois asked presently, trying to look unconscious.
“Yes, if you will,” Louise answered. “I’m worried to death about my Commencement dress; it hasn’t come yet. Will you go down to the express-room and see if there’s a package for me?”
“If there is, hadn’t we better open it and shake the wrinkles out of your dress?” suggested Polly.
“Do, please, and I’ll love you even more than I do now,” promised Louise.
The box had arrived, and as the two girls untied it and took out the countless wads of tissue-paper, they discussed the subject uppermost in their minds.
“What did Louise mean about our hands, Lo?” Polly demanded.
“Perhaps it’s something to do with the musical,” answered Lois, slowly smoothing out the creamy white sleeve.
“They’d hardly be so particular about that,” mused Polly, “and yet it couldn’t be anything to do with Commencement.”
“N-no.” Lois hesitated as she crumpled up a piece of tissue-paper into a tight ball. “Still, I can’t help thinking that no one has been chosen to carry the ribbons on Commencement.”
“But we couldn’t do that,” Polly objected. “We’re Freshmen and you know you told me they always choose two girls from their sister class.”
“They always have, but everything is so upside down this year that nothing would surprise me. The Sofs are cross because the Seniors didn’t return their party.”
“Don’t let’s think about it. Goodness, I feel just the way I did before the sub team was chosen.”
“All right. I guess we’d better go and tell Louise that her dress is here.”
“I do wish we hadn’t overheard anything about our hands, though, for, try as I will, I can’t get it out of my head,” Polly remarked as they were on their way back to the Assembly Hall.
“Cheer up, we’ll soon know,” Lois reminded her. As they entered the room she called:
“It’s here, Louise, and it’s a perfect darling. It’s all foamy lace and ribbons and looks just like soda-water.”
“Thank you so much,” Louise said. “I’m ever so much obliged.”
“By the way, as we came over the Bridge of Sighs, we saw the florist’s cart in the driveway. Don’t you want us to bring up the flowers?” Polly inquired.
“Oh, please do, and fix them in these,” Louise replied, pointing to three large glass vases.
The arrangement of the big American beauties which were to decorate the platform occupied the girls until luncheon time.
A few minutes before the bell rang, Angela and Betty returned, laden down with dogwood and apple blossoms. When they had deposited their burden and were standing with Polly and Lois, three of the Seniors joined them. Mary Reeves was one of them, and as she put her arm on Betty’s shoulder she said:
“We certainly can’t thank you girls enough for all you’ve done, but instead of giving you a rest, we are going to ask for more. Will you be ushers for us this afternoon and see about bringing in the flowers to the girls who are to take part in the musical? All the boxes will be put in the history-room and the cards will be on them.”
“All you will have to do,” continued Florence Guile, “is to bring them in and give them to the girls they’re for, after they have finished their stunt. Will you do it for us?” she asked, smiling.
“Certainly we will,” Betty replied.
“Don’t try to pretend it’s a favor to you,” laughed Lois. “You know we just love to do it.”
“I know you are all ducks, and I don’t know what we would have done without you,” Florence told them just as the luncheon bell rang.
When the girls had taken their seats at the table, Polly whispered to Lois:
“You see, it’s all explained. It was for the musical.”
“You are all wrong,” contradicted Betty, who had overheard the whisper. “It’s still a mystery; you forget Angela and I are going to help this afternoon, too, and I didn’t notice anybody getting excited over our hands.”
“I never thought of that. I guess you’re right, Bet,” Lois agreed, and she and Polly exchanged puzzled glances mixed with a new hope.
The next couple of hours were full to overflowing. The corridors were crowded with fluffy beribboned girls all talking at once.
“Some one button me up!”
“Who took my shoe horn?”
“Tie my hair ribbon for me, please!”
“I can’t find my only pair of silk stockings!” and other such demands.
About half past three the first carriages from the station that were bringing the visitors began to arrive. Every one was doing a favor for some one else, or greeting friends and relatives. Such happy excitement prevailed everywhere that the school resembled a cage of fluttering butterflies.
At four o’clock the recital began. Seddon Hall was renowned for its music. Some of the girls played remarkably well, and there were a number of beautiful voices.
Connie had to give not only one encore, but two, and it was her own composition that called forth the heartiest applause.
Polly, Lois, Angela and Betty were kept busy bringing in big bunches of violets, roses and lilies-of-the-valley. After Edith Thornton had sung two funny little Irish songs and the audience had stopped their enthusiastic applause, Louise Preston rose to give the farewell address in the name of the Seniors.
With clear well-chosen words she told of her class’s love for Seddon Hall, its influence for good on all who entered it, the ever-ready sympathy of its dearly loved superior, Mrs. Baird, and ended with the regret they all felt at leaving. It was a triumph of beautiful thoughts told in beautiful English.
After the thunders of applause there was hardly a dry eye in the room, and Polly and Lois were crying quite shamelessly, as they brought in the many bouquets to their Senior president.
Suddenly every one began to talk, praise, and congratulations were in the air. The musical was over. The visitors left for the hotel in the village, where they were to spend the night so as to be on hand for Commencement. The girls returned to their corridors to change their fluffy dresses for more comfortable ones and then to wander about the hall, discussing the recital and waiting for the bell.
After dinner they walked about the grounds in small groups, singing school songs and farewells to the Seniors. When they came in they spent the rest of the evening visiting from room to room and packing trunks.
The Seniors had built a bonfire on the side of the gym farthest away from the school. As the twilight deepened, their shadows lengthened as they sat around the blaze, and their thoughts turned back to the past. They were burning their old notebooks and papers.
“Well, it’s all over,” sighed Madelaine Ames, throwing her history examination into the fire. “But what a year it’s been!”
“We’ve beaten last year’s class average in marks,” announced a voice from the shadow. “The Spartan told me so.”
“Disagreeable, funny old Spartan! I’ll even miss her,” murmured some one else.
“We’ve been popular, too, I think,” mused another voice.
“Louise’s name will be on the cup twice as basket-ball captain.” It was Mary Reeves speaking. “And no one will ever say Field Day wasn’t the finest game in years.”
There was silence for a few minutes and then Madelaine said:
“Wonder what the next class will be like?”
Florence Guile was gazing into the fire.
“Not much, I’m afraid,” she drawled. “They’re too studious.”
“I’ve been here four years, and it breaks my heart to leave,” Louise spoke for the first time.
“It isn’t as bad for you and Florence as it is for the rest of us,” some one answered. “You’re both going to college next spring—lucky dogs—while we will have to go in for society—awful thought.”
“But college won’t be Seddon Hall,” Louise replied. “Wonder if they’ll miss us?”
“The Freshmen will. Oh, what a class they’re going to make when they are Seniors! I hope they all come back,” Mary Reeves exclaimed.
“That reminds me—What about telling Polly and Lois about tomorrow?” demanded Louise. “Mrs. Baird said to wait until after the musical. She agrees with us that none of the ‘Sofs’ will do, but she doesn’t want them to have time to grumble.”
“We forgot all about it,” Madelaine gasped. “You and Florence go and ask them now, they adore you. But hurry back,” she called as the two girls started for the school.
Polly and Lois were in the latter’s room amid confusion, heaps of clothes, shoes, and books. Polly was curled up on the bed brushing her hair, and Lois was sitting on the window seat, her elbow on her knee and her chin cradled in her hand. They were discussing the prospects of the next winter without the Seniors.
Polly had just given vent to a deep sigh and the words:
“It will never be quite the same without them.”
And Lois was saying:
“Fancy the Senior table without Louise,” when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” called Polly, and Florence and Louise entered the room.
“I’ve come to thank you two precious infants for that beautiful basket of flowers,” Louise began. “It was mighty thoughtful of you, and I do appreciate it so much.”
Lois and Polly were so confused by the sudden entrance of the very persons they had been talking about that they could only stammer:
“Oh, it wasn’t anything, really!”
“But we’ve something more important than that to say,” Florence announced, and then waited for Louise to break the news.
Polly and Lois exchanged glances.
“It’s another favor,” laughed Louise. “Do you think you could act as ribbon girls for us tomorrow?” Then pretending not to hear the joyful gasps of surprise, she continued: “You’ll have to come down to church tomorrow morning when we rehearse the procession and we’ll show you what to do. Will you do that for us?”
It had come, and though both girls had half expected it, it was a tremendous surprise.
“Oh, Louise, you know we’d love to do it!” cried Lois.
“It’s most too good to be true,” Polly exclaimed excitedly, then very solemnly she added to Florence: “To think we will really help you graduate! It’s the most thrilling thing that ever happened to me in my whole life!”
“I’m so glad you will do it for us,” smiled Florence, and turning to Louise she added: “We’d better go back to the girls. I think they’ll be waiting for us. It’s almost time to serenade Mrs. Baird.”
Polly and Lois, left alone, could do nothing but look at each other. At last Lois gave a thoroughly contented sigh.
“Who says we’re not in luck?” she asked.
“It’s a perfect ending to a perfect year,” replied Polly, putting her arm around her friend. “You know—”
“Hush!” whispered Lois. “They’re singing!”
They opened the window and leaned far out upon the ledge. Through the warm night air came the sound of the Seniors’ voices singing their last farewell, beneath Mrs. Baird’s window, in accordance with the old Seddon Hall custom.
The sun was just peeping over the red-tiled roof of the gym, as Polly and Lois stole softly out of the house and walked slowly in the direction of the woods. The day was warm and clear with the wonderful freshness of early morning. The ground was covered with millions of cobwebs and sparkling dewdrops that danced in the sunshine.
“Commencement Day at last,” Polly began, speaking in a subdued whisper, for they were still near the school windows.
“It couldn’t have been more glorious,” replied Lois. “I think I would have died if it had dared to rain.”
They walked on a little way in silence, and then Polly said very seriously:
“It’s our last day together. I’m glad you thought of this walk. We probably won’t have another chance to be alone.”
“I know,” returned Lois. “Polly, I can’t bear to think of this summer without you.”
“Oh, don’t remind me of it!” Polly pleaded. “Think how I’ll miss you. We can write, of course, but let’s cheer up. We mustn’t spoil this beautiful morning by getting the blues.”
They linked arms and continued their walk. The seriousness of their talk had caused them to halt in the middle of the path.
“Where will we go?” questioned Lois.
“We’ve time to walk as far as the brook before breakfast,” Polly suggested, “and we can say good-by to all the dear old spots on the way.”
The brook was visited, as were all the other places, the crow’s-nest, the old wall, the ruin, and the rest of the landmarks that were dear to the heart of every Seddon Hall girl.
On the whole it was not a very cheerful walk, and when the girls returned to school in time to join the line for breakfast, they were rather sad and quiet. It was not long, however, before they caught the general spirit of excitement that prevailed and were as jolly as the rest.
“What time do you want us to practice, Louise?” Polly called as she caught sight of the busy Senior president in the corridor after breakfast.
“We are going to leave here for church at ten o’clock sharp. Be ready and wait outside Mrs. Baird’s office for us,” Louise answered as she hurried past.
Polly and Lois were ready and waiting many minutes before it was time to go, and it seemed hours to them before the Seniors assembled and Mrs. Baird gave the word to start. They walked hurriedly down the steep hill which leads to the village and then on to the little old church covered with ivy, located at the farthest end of the main street.
“Do let’s sit down and rest a minute,” said Mrs. Baird, dropping into one of the last pews and fanning herself with her handkerchief. “It’s certainly a glorious day, but it’s a very warm one, too.”
Louise insisted that she could direct them sitting down as well as standing, so the rehearsal began. Polly and Lois were told how to manage the white satin ribbons, and the Seniors practiced the Commencement hymn.
“You see, my dears,” Mrs. Baird explained to Polly, “the whole school marches in first, every one taking their place; they are followed by the faculty and visitors. When they are all seated you and Lois take the ribbons, which will be fastened to the last pews, and walk slowly up the aisle. You are followed by the Seniors, and you wait until they have received their diplomas and the service is over, then you follow them out, and the rest of the school follows you.”
“It’s just like a wedding, isn’t it?” Lois questioned. “I think I understand.”
Mrs. Baird smilingly agreed that it was, and they went through it once more to be sure.
“Isn’t it solemn?” whispered Polly. “Look out, your ribbon’s twisted.”
“Thanks; now it’s all right,” Lois replied. “Doesn’t Louise look sweet this morning?” she inquired as they separated to stand on either side of the aisle.
Polly could only nod in reply, which she did vigorously.
The Seniors walked up slowly and took their places, and after a few last words from Mrs. Baird, the rehearsal was over.
Louise walked back to school between Polly and Lois.
“I’ve been wondering,” she began as they sauntered along the lazy village street, “whether you two would like to come and visit me for a while this summer. We have a big camp up in the Adirondacks, and I think you would have a good time. How about it?”
“Louise, you duck!” cried Polly and Lois in one breath. “We’d adore it. Oh, what a lark!”
“My small cousin Frances is always with us in the summer, and I’m sure you’ll get along famously together,” Louise told them, smiling rather mysteriously, and she added emphatically: “Yes, I’m sure you’ll get along famously.”
For the rest of the walk up the dusty hill she described the cabin in the heart of the woods, the funny guides, and spoke vaguely but frequently of Frances.
On discussing the invitation a little later after Louise had left them, Polly exclaimed:
“Won’t it be a lark? I do hope we can go. Don’t you love the idea?”
And Lois answered slowly:
“Yes, all except Frances. I suppose she’s a nice enough girl, but I wish she wasn’t going to be there.”
“Why, we needn’t pay any attention to her,” Polly replied. “But let’s find Bet. We haven’t seen her all day.”
They started off in search and presently found her playing with Vic (the team’s mascot had been named Victor after the Field Day game, and called Vic for short), on the steps of the gym.
“Hello!” she called, as she caught sight of them. “I’ve been wondering where you were.”
“Why, we’ve been practicing with the ribbons in church,” replied Polly, forgetting that Betty had not heard of them being chosen by the Seniors.
“You! Ribbons!” Betty was overcome with surprise. “Well, you might have told a fellow. Jove, you are in luck!”
“I entirely forgot you didn’t know. Florence and Louise asked us last night. Isn’t it wonderful? I know I’ll laugh, though,” confided Lois, “or cry.”
“Do both,” advised Betty. “I’m going to make a face at you as you go down the aisle. Stop that, Vic, you wicked monkey!” she commanded, as the mascot made a playful dab at her hair ribbon.
“What’s to become of Vic this summer?” demanded Polly. “Somebody has to take care of him.”
“He’s ours; we found him,” Betty declared. “Poor old Vic. What do you say about it?” she added, scratching the monkey’s ear.
As they stood discussing his future, Vic noticed a familiar figure coming down the stable road. It was Tony, one of the Seddon Hall gardeners, and a special friend of his. He had taken care of him ever since Field Day.
As if to answer their question for them, the little monkey jumped from Betty’s lap, ran swiftly along the ground, and bounded to Tony’s shoulder.
“The problem is solved,” laughed Betty. “Tony will take care of him. Tony,” she called, and the Italian came up to the steps, smiling sheepishly.
Of course he was delighted at the idea of having Vic to himself all summer, and promised to take the very best of care of him.
“You leave me your address,” he said, “and I write sometime how he is.”
So it was arranged. The three girls said good-by to their mascot, who was borne away on Tony’s shoulder.
The rest of the day whizzed by on wings of excitement. Every one was everywhere at once. Visitors arrived in carriage loads. Those who were already there wandered through the halls trying to find the particular girl they wanted, and time was flying.
Uncle Roddy met Dr. and Mrs. Farwell in New York and brought them up in his car. They were all standing in the reception-room talking to Mrs. Baird, as Polly and Lois came down the stairs.
“Why, there’s your uncle, Polly, and he’s with mother and dad,” exclaimed Lois, catching sight of the three in the doorway.
They were soon exchanging greetings, and Polly had time to wonder why Bob hadn’t come.
“We simply must leave you,” Lois said, after they had talked for a few minutes. “We are awfully busy. You know, we are to carry the ribbons for the Seniors, and we have to be in church ahead of the rest.”
“We’ll meet you right after the service,” called Polly, as they both disappeared down the corridor.
“Well, that was short and sweet,” laughed Uncle Roddy, looking after them. “They’re not overgenerous with their society, are they?”
“What a darling Polly is!” Mrs. Farwell returned. “And you say she has no other relatives besides you.”
“Not one. Isn’t that a dreadful responsibility for a bachelor?” Uncle Roddy replied.
“Perhaps I can help you,” Mrs. Farwell said. “I would love to have her with Lois as much as possible.”
The bell for the guests to go to church interrupted their conversation, and they went outside to find the motor.
The Commencement exercises were a great success. The Seniors all looked beautiful and made their relatives and friends very proud of them. Polly and Lois managed the Ribbons without any trouble and added greatly to the dignity of the scene.
Once during the chaplain’s short address they caught Betty’s eye just as he said “certainly not,” and they almost laughed. It was a terrible moment, but the loud “amen” that soon followed saved the day and gave them a chance to snicker without being noticed.
“I’ll kill Bet for that,” whispered Polly, as they walked sedately down the aisle after the Seniors at the close of the service.
But the excitement of leaving made her forget her threat, when fifteen minutes later she and Lois and Betty met in the latter’s room.
“There, I think I’ve packed everything,” sighed Betty. “Jemima, how I hate to leave!”
“‘When shall we three meet again?’” quoted Lois. “Sometime this summer, I hope.”
“It would be a lark if we could be together some of the time, wouldn’t it?” mused Polly. “Perhaps we can. Who knows?”
“I am going down, now,” announced Betty. “I want to say hello to Mr. Pendleton. If I don’t see you two again, why good-by and don’t forget to write.” And she was gone. Not for worlds would she have displayed the emotion she felt.
Polly and Lois stole down to Senior Alley for a last good-by to Louise and dragged her down to meet their families. Then after much kissing, giving of addresses, shouted last messages and promises to come back, they finally found themselves in Uncle Roddy’s motor.
They were both silent for a few minutes and their eyes were misty as they watched the towers of Seddon Hall grow fainter and fainter, until they entirely disappeared.
“We’ll have to say good-by to each other next,” whispered Lois.
“Don’t!” answered Polly, with just a little catch in her voice. “I can’t bear to think of it, Lo.”
Then it was that they realized that Uncle Roddy was talking.
“So,” he was saying, “if Mrs. Farwell will be contented in that sleepy old town, there’s the big house at her service and the children will be together.”
“Of course I’ll be contented. It will be a wonderful summer,” answered Mrs. Farwell.
“Capital!” spoke up the Doctor. “Roddy and I can come up for the week ends and have some fishing.”
The two girls looked at each other in astonishment.
“We will be together after all,” exclaimed Polly excitedly.
“But where?” Lois demanded.
“At my old home,” Polly explained. “Just to think I’ll see my precious dogs again!”
They parted hours later, after a very happy drive spent in discussing plans for the summer. It was parting, of course, but as Lois reminded every one delightedly: “It was only until next week.”
That night Uncle Roddy noticed that Polly was looking very thoughtful as she sat on the arm of his chair.
“What’s the matter, Tiddle-dy-winks?” he inquired, pulling her down on his knee and patting her shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking,” replied Polly slowly, “how sorry I am it’s all over. It’s been the happiest year of my life.”
“But that’s only so far,” laughed Uncle Roddy. “You’ve still a number of years to come, I hope.”
“But can they ever be as happy as this one?” Polly asked.
“If I have anything to say about it, each year will be happier than the last, dear child, and now, good night.” And Uncle Roddy gave her a hearty kiss.
So Polly, with Uncle Roddy’s promise still ringing in her ears, fell asleep at the close of that eventful year, not thinking regretfully of the past, but dreaming happily of the joys to come.
THE END
THE “POLLY” SERIES
By Dorothy Whitehill
Polly Pendleton is a resourceful, wide-awake American girl who goes to a boarding school on the Hudson River some miles above New York. By her pluck and resourcefulness, she soon makes a place for herself and this she holds right through the course. The account of boarding school life is faithful and pleasing and will attract every girl in her teens.
Cloth, large 12 mo. Illustrated