"Yes." Maud was becoming more and more bewildered.

"What did you do when you got home?"

"Why, I hustled down to Roman Alley and took a tub. You see I was awfully late, and I knew that Miss—what's her name—Spartan would be no end cross if I didn't show up for the exam. I didn't want to miss it either; it was literature, you know."

"Where did you leave your snow shoes?"

"Up against the gym porch; they were awfully wet and I didn't want to take the time to go to my room. I say it was a bit of a joke; you're thinking I was lost, wasn't it?" she asked, calmly.

Polly finished buttoning her dress.

"Maud," she said sternly "go back upstairs. To-morrow we may be able to see the joke, but not now."

Maud left with Fanny. "I'm most awfully sorry," were her last words.

A few minutes later, the girls sought the comfort of Mrs. Baird's charming sitting-room, and the promised hot soup.

Between sips they told her the story of their hunt and the fears that beset them. She listened delightedly, but with ready sympathy.

"You poor, dear children! What an experience! I talked to Maud very severely."

Betty thought she said: "I will talk."

"Don't tell her what we've told you," she begged, "I wouldn't have her know for anything."

"She'd say it was no end of a joke," Polly laughed.

Mrs. Baird nodded in understanding.

"Of course I won't tell her," she said merrily. "It's a secret just between us," she added with a smile.



CHAPTER XV

THE JUNIOR PROM

Polly and Lois were busily packing their suitcases, while Betty and Angela stood by and offered suggestions. They were leaving on the afternoon train for Cambridge to attend the Junior Prom. Bob and Jim had finally prevailed upon Mrs. Farwell to let them come. Barring the party at Fanny's this was their first big dance, and they were both frankly excited about it.

"What time does your mother get here?" Betty asked. "Is she coming up to school?"

"No; we're going to meet her at the Junction, where we change for the Boston train," Lois replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I hoped I was going to see her." Betty was very fond of Mrs. Farwell.

"She'll be here for Commencement," Polly said, "so will Uncle Roddy; he's crazy to see you again. And this summer we're going to have a big house party, Ange. You've got to come this time with Bet."

"I'd love it, if you won't insist on my breaking in colts, and— Look out, Lo! if you don't wrap up those slippers in tissue paper they'll be all scratched—"

"I haven't any tissue paper; won't a towel do?"

"Yes; here, I'll throw you one."

"Mercy! I almost forgot my silk stockings," Polly exclaimed. "Get them out of my bottom drawer for me, will you, Bet, like an angel?"

Betty hunted in the drawer. "They're not here."

"Then look on the closet shelf."

"Here they are. Mercy, aren't they beauties! butterflies embroidered on them!" Betty drew one on over her hand and admired it.

"That's Lo's taste," Polly said. "She gave them to me for Christmas. There, I think that's everything." She surveyed her neatly packed bag. "I do hope my dress won't be wrinkled."

"What are you going to wear for an evening coat?" Angela inquired.

"Our capes," Lois answered.

"You'll freeze to death, and the hoods will crush your hair."

"Well, what will we do?" Lois asked. "Wear veils?"

Angela considered a minute, and then left the room to return with a long scarf of maline over her arm.

"Here, take this, one of you; wait till we decide which one it's the more becoming to." She put it around Polly's neck and drew part of it up over her hair.

"Very sweet, but," Betty said, "try it on, Lo."

"Perfect! you get it," she said, as they viewed the effect, and certainly the soft, flimsy tulle did make a charming background for Lois' delicate beauty.

"Polly, you need something more severe," Angela said.

"I've a wonderful Roman scarf; it's all lovely pale shades. I'll get it; wait a shake," Betty offered. "There you are," she said, triumphantly, when she had pulled it tightly around Polly's head. "You look Italian; all you need is a pitcher on your shoulder."

"It might interfere with my dancing," Polly laughed. "Thanks, ever so much, Betty dear; I'll lend you my butterfly stockings when you go up to West Point."

"Then, don't you dare dance holes in them," Betty warned. "Perhaps you'd better not dance at all; it might be safer," she added.

"Just find a nice comfortable chair and sit in it and keep your feet off the floor," Angela suggested. "Then, if any one asks you to dance, why, tell them that you'd like to but Betty says you mustn't."

"I've taken enough clothes for a month." Lois looked despairingly at her bag. "Sit on it, will you, Bet?" Together they closed it and Lois locked it as a precaution against its flying open.

"It's nearly time to start." Polly consulted her watch. "I'm so excited my heart's in my mouth."

"There's your carriage; it's waiting," Angela said, looking out of the window. "You'd better hurry. Here, I'll take one bag." Betty took the other, while Polly and Lois tried frantically to pull on their gloves.

"Be sure and remember everything," Betty said, as they ran downstairs, "so you can tell me how to act next week."

"We will," Polly promised.

They met Mrs. Farwell an hour later and took the train for Boston.

"I had a letter from Bob this morning," she told them. "He says that he will not be able to see us until luncheon time to-morrow; he's awfully busy, I suppose."

"Maybe he's trying to find partners for us," Lois laughed, "and he's not finding it easy."

Polly groaned: "Oh, Aunt Kate," she said, "suppose we have to sit out half the dances."

Mrs. Farwell laughed.

"I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you," she said, confidently; "you can trust Bob to see to that."

The next day, Jim and Bob joined them at luncheon, at one o'clock.

"Why didn't you meet us yesterday?" Lois demanded when they were seated at the table.

"Couldn't do it," Bob told her.

"But we're at your service this afternoon," Jim added. "What do you want to do?"

"Why don't you just sit and talk, up in our sitting-room," Mrs. Farwell suggested. "If you do anything else the girls will be tired out for the dance."

"What, and waste all the beautiful afternoon? Oh, mother!" Bob objected. "Besides," he added, winking at Jim, "if we sit and talk, as you suggest, the girls will be tired. You know Lois?"

"Oh, Bobby, aren't you mean?" Lois said. "I don't talk nearly as much as you do."

"How about taking a ride in my car?" Jim suggested. "It's a warm day."

"Oh, Jim!" Mrs. Farwell said, "I'm afraid to let them."

"But you come, too," Jim urged. "We could all crowd in."

Mrs. Farwell shook her head.

"No; I must rest; my head really aches," she said.

"Then, let us go," Bob teased. "Just for a short ride. You'll hurt Jim's feelings if you don't; he's awfully proud of Pegasus."

"Pegasus? Is that the name of the car?" Mrs. Farwell laughed. "Well—" she hesitated.

"We'll promise not to go one bit faster than thirty miles an hour," Jim assured her.

"And I'll blow the horn all the way, mother darling," Lois added. "I hope it's a nice, noisy Claxon? Is it, Jim?"

"Better than that," he told her, "it has three notes, and you can play a tune on it."

"May we go, Aunt Kate?" Polly asked, anxiously. "We really will be careful."

Mrs. Farwell looked from one to the other.

"Yes," she said, slowly, "but you must be back by four o'clock."

"Oh, mother; make it five," Bob teased.

"No; four o'clock." Mrs. Farwell was determined. "The girls must rest."

Jim left to get his car. In less than half an hour they heard his horn blow.

"He's here; hurry up," Bob said. "Don't make him stop the engine."

Mrs. Farwell pulled the girls' furs up close about their necks and went down to see them off.

"Now, do be careful," she said, earnestly. "Remember, Jim, no fast driving."

"Not even if I see a fine road ahead with no cars in sight," he promised her solemnly.

"And that means a whole lot for Jim," Bob explained. "He's rather proud of his driving, mother, and it's an awful disappointment to him when he can't show off."

"Nonsense; I don't believe it," she called after them; "I know he'll be careful."

The car, or "Pegasus," to give it its proper title, was long and gray and shaped like a boat. It was really a roadster, but a small seat opened up in the back to accommodate two people.

Bob and Polly climbed into it, and Lois took her place beside Jim. They drove slowly through the city.

"Where to?" Jim inquired.

"Anywhere," Lois said, "as long as we go. Isn't this air wonderful? Why, it's like spring."

Jim headed the car in the direction of Salem and the speedometer registered thirty miles.

"Why didn't you promise mother not to go over forty miles an hour?" Lois asked.

"Because I knew she wouldn't let us go," Jim replied. "Isn't this fast enough for you?"

Lois looked up at him over her brown furs.

"Do you know," she said, slowly, "my one ambition is to go sixty miles an hour in a car."

Jim gasped for a second. He was tempted, but he said: "Sorry I can't take you."

"Of course you can't to-day," Lois agreed. "But will you some time?"

"You bet," Jim promised, enthusiastically. "Bob's asked me to visit him this summer, you know," he added; "maybe we can try it then. Would you like to drive?" he asked when they were well out of the city.

"I don't know how," Lois said, sorrowfully.

"Well, I'll teach you." Jim stopped the car.

"What's the matter?' Bob called.

"Nothing," Jim said, "I'm going to let Lois drive; that's all."

"Oh, Jim, have pity on us!" Polly begged; "we do want to go to the dance to-night."

"Don't worry," he answered, "you'll get there."

"Now," he said to Lois, when they had changed places, "push that back; it's the brake, and you want to release it. There, now put your foot on that; that feeds gas in the engine. No, do it gently," he said, as the car jerked forward.

Lois' face was set in firm determination, and she obeyed instructions without a word. After she had stalled the car several times, and Bob had gotten out to crank it, she finally started.

A motor van coming towards them made her almost run into a ditch. But Jim took the wheel in time.

"You know, you don't have to climb trees and fences, Lo," Bob teased; "there's really plenty of room on the road."

"Oh, but it looked as if it would run right into us!" she exclaimed, shuddering. "Suppose it had taken off one of our wheels?"

"Keep still, Bob," Jim directed. "Don't talk to the chauffeur."

They drove on for a few miles more and were beginning to consider turning, when the car began to miss and make terrifying noises.

"What's it doing?" Lois demanded. "Have I broken it?"

Jim laughed heartily. "No," he said, "change places with me. I'll fix it."

But Pegasus refused to be fixed. It went on a little farther, and then stopped.

Jim and Bob got out. They opened the hood. "Nothing wrong here," Jim said. "I wonder what's up!"

"I'll spin it," Bob suggested. They worked for nearly fifteen minutes, but the car would not budge.

"I know I did something to it," Lois turned tearfully to Polly; "now we'll never get home."

"Oh, yes we will; we can get some one to pull us, I guess," Polly comforted her. "Maybe there's no more gasoline," she said to Bob.

The boys looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Jim investigated the tank and then took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Polly.

"You are quite right; there is no gas, and I'm a—well—I'm a very brilliant driver. Will you please tell me how you ever thought of it?"

Polly laughed. "Why, that's what always happens to Uncle Roddy's car when he goes out," she said. "He never remembers the gas. Sometimes he pulls the poor car to pieces before he thinks of it."

Jim felt comforted.

"Well, I guess I'll go see what I can do about getting some. Bob, you stay here with the girls."

"Somebody has to call up Aunt Kate," Polly reminded them, "we won't be home by four, and she'll be worried."

"Then Bob's got to do it," Jim said, decidedly. "I'll never be able to face her after all my promises."

"All right!" Bob said. "I see a house down the road."

"Perhaps they'll have some gas," Jim said, hopefully, as they started off.

But it was after seven before they finally got back to the hotel. Jim had had to walk miles before he could get a pail of gasoline, and then on the way back one of the tires had blown out.

Mrs. Farwell was waiting for them in the lobby. She looked thoroughly frightened.

"Children, where have you been?" she asked.

Bob explained.

"We couldn't get here a second sooner," he concluded.

"I'm awfully sorry, Mrs. Farwell," Jim added, apologetically, "I never felt so ashamed in my life; but I really did start with plenty of gas, only the tank leaked," he finished ruefully.

Mrs. Farwell smiled her forgiveness.

"You'll have to hurry through dinner, then go and dress," she said. "Perhaps, after all, the girls aren't so very tired."

Polly put her arm around her.

"Tired?" she said, happily, "why, Aunt Kate, I feel as if I could dance all night."

"So do I, mother darling," Lois insisted.

"Well, that's very probably just what you will do," Mrs. Farwell answered with a resigned sigh.

Bob and Jim, after a very hasty dinner, hurried to their rooms to change their clothes, and were back before either of the girls were ready, for Mrs. Farwell had insisted upon an hour's rest. When they did join the boys, they were looking their best. They had on the same yellow and green dresses that they had worn at Fanny's party.

Bob and Jim were secretly delighted. There is always a good-natured rivalry at a Junior Prom and they both felt that the girls' charming appearance gave them a decided advantage over the other men.

When they arrived at the Union the dance had already started, and the floor was crowded with people. Lois and Polly were so carried away by excitement that the whole evening passed in a whirl of delight.

Mrs. Farwell had been right the day before when she had promised her that Bob would see that they had plenty of partners, for Jim and he brought up all their friends and introduced them.

As Polly said afterward, in answer to Betty's questions.

"There were so many of them that I couldn't begin to remember their names. I just called them all Mr. Er—"

"What was the hall like?" Betty had demanded of Lois.

"Mercy! I don't remember," she said, "except that it had two big fireplaces and the most fascinating chandeliers made of deers' antlers."

Betty had been disgusted at this hazy description.

It was after two o'clock before they got back to the hotel, and they were both so sleepy that they could hardly thank Bob and Jim for their good time.

As the boys went back to their rooms, Jim said: "Bob, do you think the girls will ever forgive me for this afternoon?"

"Why, of course," Bob assured him. "They didn't mind being late. Polly would rather motor than dance any day."

"H'm!" Jim replied, slowly, "but it happens to be Lois that I'm worrying about."

"Well, you needn't," Bob answered, laughing. "When I was dancing with her to-night, I asked her if she didn't like you better than she used to, and she said: 'Oh, lots, Bobby; I think he's a duck.'"



CHAPTER XVI

MUMPS

"Cheer up, Polly! it can't be as bad as all that," Betty said, laughing, in spite of herself. For the spectacle of her friend's woe-begone expression was too exaggerated to be funny.

"I didn't think the game was so bad," Lois remarked, cheerfully; "nothing to worry over."

They had just returned from the gym, where the regular team had been practicing in preparation for the coming indoor meet.

February was almost at an end, and the girls had completely recovered from the Junior Prom. The date for the game was settled, and Seddon Hall was to play the Whitehead school team the following week.

"If we were only playing in our own gym," Polly said, forlornly, "we might have a chance; but to have to travel for an hour on the train first, have luncheon in a new place, and then play in a strange gym, why we'll none of us be up to our best."

"You talk as if we were all very nervous and highly strung children," Betty said, impatiently. "We've all played in other gyms before."

"Fanny never has," Lois reminded her.

"Well, what of it? She won't get scared. I know her better than you do," Betty insisted. "We've two more days to practice, anyway."

"Two more days? Do you suppose that's enough time for Eleanor to learn not to make fouls, and for Fanny to learn your passes?" Polly demanded. "It's all very well for you to be cheerful; you're not captain."

"But worrying won't help any, Poll," Lois said, quietly. "If you are going to get in a blue funk, what can you expect of the others?"

"Nothing!" Polly answered; "I know I'm silly, but that team beat us last year on our own floor, and our team was twice as strong then as it is now."

Lois and Betty gave up arguing. They understood exactly how Polly felt, but they knew, too, as soon as the game began she could be depended upon to regain her courage and hope.

The next two days the team worked hard. They practiced passes and signals, and Eleanor did her best to remember the unaccustomed lines. By Saturday morning Polly felt a little more cheerful.

"What time do we leave?" Lois asked, after breakfast. "Ten-thirty?"

"Yes; and I'm going to post a notice that every one is to be ready at ten. Then I'll be sure of them," Polly said.

"I wish we could take Maud as a sub, instead of Caroline Webb," Lois said, slowly. "She's worth more."

Polly shook her head. "It doesn't matter, really," she said. "Our sub-team is so weak that we simply can't rely on it. We'll have to play it all through ourselves, and we mustn't get hurt; that's all there is to it. If one of us gets out of this game to-day, it will mean we lose," she concluded, decidedly.

"Oh, captain, how do you feel?" Betty inquired, coming in with her gym suit over her arm. "I've been talking to some of the girls; they're just sufficiently nervous—all except Eleanor—she's too cocksure. I don't like it," she added, shaking her head doubtfully. No one knew better than she how dangerous over-confidence was before a game; it was much more liable to prove disastrous than a severe case of fear.

"I'll talk to her," Polly said. "Don't worry; she'll get over any extra amount of confidence when she sees the other team—that is, if they're the size they were last year."

"Which I hope and pray they are not," Lois added, fervently.

They started at ten-thirty, after a little delay caused by Fanny forgetting her gym shoes, and Betty her favorite hair ribbon. The school gave them a hearty send-off, cheering the carryall as far as the gate.

They arrived at Whitehead in time for luncheon.

"They don't seem awfully cheerful here," Polly said, when she and Lois were alone for a minute. "I wonder what's the matter?"

"Doris Bates, you know, the girl who plays forward, told me she had a terrible sore throat," Lois replied. "Perhaps she's given it to the rest."

"I have an idea they'll use their subs," Polly said. "If they do—" She let Lois finish the remainder of the sentence for herself.

The game began at two o'clock. The Whitehead gymnasium was a big, high ceilinged room with small windows. It was really a converted barn. The light was so poor that on winter afternoons they had always to use the big arc lamps that were incased in wire, and hung at either end of the room. There was no gallery for the spectators. They sat around in groups wherever they could find a place. Some of them were so near the lines that Polly felt sure she would run into them and, hardest drawback of all, the floor was slippery. The school used the gym for all their entertainments and it had been waxed not a week before.

Polly took in all these disadvantages at once and realized their probable effect on her team.

"Don't lose your nerve or your head," she said, cautioning them before the game started. "The lights are a bother, but try not to pay any attention to them. If you hit them, never mind. Be careful of the floor, and if you want to go after a ball, let the girls on the side lines look out for you."

"I do wish they'd move back," Fanny said, almost tearfully. "They might just as well be following you around, holding your hand? They're so close I declare I can hear them breathing."

"The lines are awfully faint," Eleanor said, dejectedly. She was looking hard at the big broad-shouldered girl it would be her duty to guard.

Polly glanced from one face to the other. Even Lois' and Betty's reflected apprehension. She sighed.

"Remember," she said, as they took their places, "we're playing for Seddon Hall."

When the first whistle blew she felt that she was facing a sure defeat and she tried valiantly to keep her glance from straying in the direction of the silver cup. But, as the game progressed, she discovered that, though her team was heavily handicapped, the only danger that they really had to face was surprise. For they had expected to fight, and fight hard for every point, and they were totally unprepared for the unexplainable collapse of the opposing team. From the very start, the ball was theirs. It took time for them to recover from the shock before they could use their advantage. Before the end of the first half, Whitehead had put in four substitutes.

"What can be the matter?" Lois demanded between halves. "Why, they're not putting up any fight at all."

"They're all sick," Betty said. "Both the centers have terrible colds. It's a shame."

The second half was a repetition of the first, and Seddon Hall won an easy victory.



Polly felt that she had not really earned the cup when it was presented to her at the close of the game.

The score was twenty-seven to nothing in their favor.

"It's too bad your team are all laid up," she said to the other captain. "I'm sorry; I know that we would never have made such a score if you'd all been well."

The other girl smiled. "Why you won it fairly," she said. "We played a miserable game. A few colds shouldn't have made all that difference. I don't know what happened to us."

"Well, you'll have a chance for revenge next year," Polly answered with a parting nod.

The return of the team lacked something of its triumphal spirit. There is never the same feeling of exhilaration over an easily won struggle that there is over a hard fought one. And though the rest of the girls welcomed the return of the cup, there was a general feeling of sympathy for the other team, rather than enthusiastic praise for their own.

Polly and Betty were still puzzling over the whole thing two days later in the study hall, when Lois joined them and solved the mystery.

"I have an awful sore throat. What do you suppose is the matter with me? I don't feel like doing a thing," she said.

"Better go and see Miss King," Polly advised. "You look sort of tired and sick."

"I think I will," Lois said.

In the Infirmary a few minutes later, Miss King looked down her throat and prodded the outside. "How long have you felt this way?" she asked.

"Only yesterday and to-day," Lois told her. "Don't say I have to go to bed, please."

"Sorry," Miss King said, briskly, "but you do. Don't go downstairs again; go right in here; I'll get your things."

"What have I got?" Lois demanded.

The nurse shook her head. "Nothing much, I hope," she said, "but I want you to go to bed."

Next morning Lois awoke in the Infirmary to see Miss King standing at the foot of the bed.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, sleepily.

Miss King gave her a hand glass before replying.

Lois sat up in bed and looked at herself. Both sides of her face were swollen.

"Mumps!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what a sight I am," she added, laughing.

Polly and Betty came up to inquire for her, after breakfast, and heard the news.

"Mumps!" they both said at once. And Polly cried. "Why, Betty, that's what was wrong with the Whitehead team."

"Of course, sore throats and everything. I'll bet they all came down with it the next day," Betty exclaimed. "No wonder they couldn't play any kind of a game."

Lois did not remain alone in the Infirmary for long. One by one the team joined her. Polly was the first. During study hour that night her throat began to hurt. She felt it; it was suspiciously lumpy.

"Here I am," she said the next morning, when Miss King had pronounced it mumps.

"Oh, Poll!" Lois was delighted. "You look funnier than I do. Only one side is swelling and it makes you look top heavy."

Polly surveyed herself in the mirror.

"That's easily fixed," she said. "Watch!"

She undid her hair and rolled it into a round knob under one ear. "There, now it's even."

"But it doesn't match," Lois objected. "You look like a pie-bald pony now."

Polly glanced about the room. A round celluloid powder-box caught her eye. She emptied the powder out and fitted the box over her hair.

"That better?" she inquired.

Lois was still laughing over this absurd picture, when the door opened, and in walked Betty and Fanny.

"You two?" Polly exclaimed. "Oh, what a lark!"

"When did you get it?" Lois asked.

"Suddenly, last night, at dinner," Betty answered. "We had salad with French dressing. And, oh, when I swallowed that vinegar!"

"I certainly did think I was going to choke to death," Fanny said, feelingly. "I jumped right up from the table."

"Yes, and knocked over a glass of water," Betty prompted, "and announced to the whole dining-room that you reckoned you had the mumps. Everybody laughed so hard they couldn't eat any more dinner," she concluded.

"I'm so glad you both got it," Polly said.

"Do you suppose we'll look like you two do to-morrow?" Betty asked rudely.

"Worse, probably," Lois consoled her.

Eleanor and Evelin came down with it the next day. After that there were no more cases. Fortunately, it did not spread throughout the school. Perhaps some of the girls were disappointed, for the stories of the good time in the Infirmary made school seem very stupid by comparison.

One day Miss King brought Betty a note from Angela. It was wrapped around a copy of the Gossip, the Whitehead school paper.

"Dear Mumpy (she wrote):

"Read the news item on page ten. I think it's funny. If you want to answer it in our issue of the Tatler this month, send me word what to say, and I'll see to it. Hurry up and get well. We all miss you lots, especially in Latin class. Love to the rest.

"Ange."

Betty opened the paper at the tenth page and read:

IMPORTANT NEWS ITEM.

"Sudden disappearance of valuable mump germs. Last seen in a silver trophy cup on or about February twenty-fifth. Seddon Hall basket ball team under suspicion of theft, but no arrests have been made. Any information regarding same will be gratefully received."

"That settles it." Betty stopped reading to laugh. "We took their mump germs with a vengeance.

"Means they've got it, too," laughed Lois.

"Of course we'll have to answer it," Polly said.

The next few days the composition of a fitting reply occupied all their time. They wrote and discarded a dozen answers before finally deciding on a poem of Betty's. The Tatler went to press with instructions to print it on the first page, and the Whitehead girls, when they got their copy, laughed long and heartily, for this is what they read:

"Eight little germs lurked in a cup All on a pleasant day. Eight little maids they spied that cup When they went out to play. They thought they'd take it home with them; They didn't know, you see, The mumpy germs were waiting there As slyly as could be. But when they took the cup, alas! Those eight germs gave eight jumps And landed in those eight maids' throats, And gave them each the mumps."



CHAPTER XVII

SPRING

The months of March and April had come and gone. The days had passed in unvarying monotony for the most part.

Now and again, however, some little incident found its place and added the necessary interest to the school life. The long term after Christmas is always tiring, and Easter vacation had come as a relief. By the time this chapter opens the grounds of Seddon Hall gave proof of spring—warm days and sunshine beckoned the girls out of doors, and early flowers rewarded their frequent rambles in the woods. In less than three weeks school would close, and another Senior class would graduate. Polly and Lois had seen the same thing happen year after year, but now that the time was approaching for them to go, they experienced the same feeling of regret and wonder that every girl knows who has ever finished and received a diploma.

Fortunately they did not have much time to wonder at the coming change in their lives, for there are many events that crowd themselves into the last few weeks of a Senior's school life, occupying most of her time.

To-day was a particularly busy one. There was a Senior class meeting to decide on the Senior play. The photographer was coming to take the class picture. There was a basket ball practice, for Field Day was not far off, and an art exhibition in the evening. The latter was an entirely new idea instigated by Miss Crosby. Every girl who could draw or paint had offered the best her portfolio could yield, and these had been framed and hung on the walls of the Assembly Hall.

A committee of judges composed of the faculty and two important friends of Miss Crosby, who had promised to come up especially, were to award a medal for the best painting and for the best sketch. Add to all of this, the fact that Louise Preston and Florence Guile—two of the old girls—were expected on a visit, and you have an idea of the events to which the Seniors looked forward, as they jumped out of bed at the first sound of the rising bell.

And Polly and Lois had another cause for excitement. To-day was the day of the inter-collegiate track meet, and Bob was running in one of the relay races. So many school duties had made it impossible for them to go, but Jim had promised to wire them the results.

Betty met Polly and Lois, as usual, in Roman Alley, and they discussed the plans for the day, as the water ran in their tubs.

"Do you think the Dorothys are going to vote against 'The Merchant of Venice'?" Betty asked, dropping down on the lower step of the stairs. "I'll simply refuse to act, if we have to have Tennyson's 'Princess.' I think it's a silly thing."

"Oh, Bet!" Lois protested.

"Well, I do, and we'd never learn all those yards of verse by Commencement."

"I think we can make the Dorothys agree," Polly said, confidently. "Mrs. Baird is coming to the meeting, and I know she'd rather we gave the 'Merchant of Venice.'"

"What about the class picture?" Lois asked. "How are we going to have it taken—all standing in a stiff group, as usual?"

"Jemima, no!" Betty exclaimed. "The officers all sit, I insist; else what proof have we of our importance?"

"Bet, do be sensible," Polly pleaded. "This is really important. Oh, here comes Ange," she said as a kimono came in sight around the bend in the stairs.

"Come on, lazy one; we're having a meeting," Betty called. "Subject under discussion, the Senior class picture. Have you any valuable suggestions to offer!"

"Yes, I have," Angela replied, unexpectedly, "and it's a very clever one, if I do say it myself," she drawled. "I may as well warn you that if you don't agree with me, I'll be awfully offended."

"Then maybe you'd better not tell us," teased Lois.

"Oh, but I will. Now listen to me." Angela sat down beside Polly. "It's about the picture. Of course you all want something different, don't you? You know our class has always been noted—"

"For its originality," Betty finished for her.

"Yes, we know, go on," encouraged Polly.

"Well, I thought that instead of an everyday white dress and diploma kind of a pose, we'd have a very informal, sailor suit, you know, group taken.

"Good idea! It would be much simpler and better taste," Lois agreed.

"Now wait," Angela went on. "I haven't finished. Instead of having it taken indoors, with a plain wall for a background, it would be much nicer to have it taken out of doors, either on the Senior porch or out on one of the rocks, side of the pond."

"That would be perfect," Polly exclaimed, enthusiastically.

"No class has ever done it before, and I know Mrs. Baird will be overjoyed at the idea of having something a little different from those awful set pictures her office is lined with."

"It is a good scheme," Betty said slowly. "But oh, my children! Do you think for one moment that the Dorothys will ever agree?"

"You leave the Dorothys to me," Polly said. "I'll see that they agree to everything."

The meeting was held immediately after school in one of the classrooms. Mrs. Baird was there, and sat beside Lois. Everything was very formal and quite according to Parliamentary rules.

Lois mentioned the subjects that were to be discussed, and before any one else had a chance to speak, Polly rose and asked to be permitted to offer a suggestion.

When it had been granted, she laid before them Angela's idea for the picture. Mrs. Baird was so charmed that she forgot to be formal, in her enthusiastic praise of it.

When that point was settled, Lois mentioned the play.

Betty jumped up at the first words and gave several very good reasons in favor of the "Merchant of Venice." Evelin and Helen agreed with her and though the two Dorothys voted for "The Princess," the majority was in Betty's favor.

It was decided that Mrs. Baird and Miss Porter should cast each girl in her part.

Towards the end of the meeting, there was a knock on the door. Polly opened it. Louise Preston and Florence Guile stood in the hall.

"Don't let us disturb anything," Louise said, "but Miss Hale told us Mrs. Baird was here."

Polly pulled them into the room. "Oh, but I'm glad to see you," she cried. "We thought you'd never get here."

The meeting broke up at once, for the girls crowded round to welcome them. They had both been Seniors when the present class were Freshmen. Now they were Juniors at College, but like most of the Seddon Hall graduates, they always came back, at least once a year. The girls were all delighted to see them for they had been two of the most popular girls who had ever been in the school.

When the greetings were over, Polly and Lois claimed them, and carried them off to the gym. Louise had been Captain in her Senior year and was now on her college team, and Polly wanted her advice.

"Now, Lou, tell me just exactly what you think," she said after the game was over, and they were all four in her room.

"I think your team is fine, Polly, really," Louise said, sincerely, "but—"

"Yes, it's that but, I want to hear about," Polly prompted.

"The guards are your weak point. That one girl made four fouls. Miss Stewart didn't see them all, but I did," Louise said.

"That's Eleanor Trent, she's used to boys' rules," Lois explained.

"Then she's hopeless," Florence said with finality, "and she'll never get over it."

"Who's the girl that was guarding you?" Louise asked.

"That's Maud Banks; she's been a sub for only a little while," Polly said. "I put her on to take the place of a girl who didn't come back after Easter. Why?"

"I think she ought to be on the big team," Louise declared. "She's a splendid player."

Polly considered. "I guess you're right," she said.

"You and Lo and Bet pass as well as ever," Florence said. "Lois, where did you get that Princeton banner?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"Frank gave it to me."

"It's coming down to-night and my banner takes its place," Polly said; "that is, if something happens."

"What?" Louise demanded.

But Polly's explanation was cut short by a timid tap at the door.

"Come in," called Lois. It was Phylis and Janet.

"We've come to take you out for a walk, sister," Phylis said to Florence. "You promised you'd come back right after practice and you didn't."

Florence laughed. "Mercy, what a rude awakening. Here I've been feeling just as if I were back again and then my small sister knocks at the door and reminds me I'm only a visitor!"

"Their coming makes me think of the way you two used to knock at our door," Louise said. "Remember?"

"Only Lo and Poll were never as respectful as Jane and Phylis," Florence teased, putting her arm around her sister. "They used to bounce in unannounced and eat up all our peanut butter."

"Florence, you shouldn't talk like that," her sister admonished her. "You forget Polly and Lois are Seniors," she said with dignity.

"A thousand pardons!" Florence laughed. "So they are."

"I see you have your defenders just as we had," Louise remarked.

"I think it's time to go," Janet announced, and she didn't understand why everybody laughed.

"Tell us about the exhibition to-night," Louise said, as they started for their walk, and Janet explained:

"All the girls who are at all good, put things in," she concluded. "These two friends of Miss Crosby are both artists and they're very important. I hope Lois gets the prize."

"Do you think she will?" Florence asked.

"I don't know, but Maud Banks says she's sure to," Janet replied.

Polly and Lois, after their visitors had left, hurried back into their sailor suits and joined the rest of the Seniors in the reception room, where the photographer was waiting.

Lois explained about the picture and led the way to the pond. He selected a rock and grouped the girls around it. This took so much time, that Lois hurried to the studio to find it was too late to make the one or two alterations on her canvas that she had wanted to.

"Oh, dear," she said to Miss Crosby; "I never realized how late it was getting. What will I do?"

"You'll leave your canvas just as it is," Miss Crosby answered. "I'm glad the light is poor. I didn't want you to make any changes. Come down to Assembly Hall and help me to hang up the rest of the sketches, will you?" she asked.

The two artists who were to act as judges came in time for dinner. The girls had a glimpse of them as they passed the guests' dining-room.

"Why, they're men," Betty exclaimed. "One's fat, old and bald, and the other one's young. I thought they were going to be women."

"No, of course not." Lois laughed. "Miss Crosby told me all about them, they're quite famous. Do you know I'm scared to death," she admitted.

There was no set time for the exhibition that night. The Assembly Hall was open at seven-thirty, and the girls came in and looked at the pictures when they wanted to.

The two imposing visitors, who both wore tortoise shell rimmed glasses on broad black ribbons, walked about glancing at a picture now and then, and talking to the faculty.

"They make me awfully nervous; let's get out. I think some of the girls are dancing in English Room," Lois said. She was with Polly and Louise and Florence.

"Then how will we know who gets the medal?" Louise inquired.

"The bell's going to ring at nine o'clock," Polly explained. "Then everybody will come back, and the winner's names will be announced from the platform.

"Well, let's look once more at Lois' canvas," Florence said. "I'm crazy about it."

They crossed the room and stopped before a picture of an apple orchard in Springtime. Lois had chosen to paint it, because it was her favorite spot in the grounds, and she had put into it all the joy and sunshine of a May-day.

"Lo, it's good," Polly whispered earnestly. "It makes me want to dance."

"Have you seen Maud's sketches, they're great," Lois said. The critics were standing near and she felt suddenly self-conscious.

"I think the one of the chicken yard is awfully clever, but, of course I love the yellow dog best of all."

Maud, when she had heard of the exhibit, had chosen her puppy friend for one of her models. The girls admired the clever result, and then left the room.

At nine o'clock the bell rang. It was five minutes before all the girls were back in the room, and Lois was among the last. She was almost afraid to listen for the names. When everything was quiet, the older of the two men came to the edge of the platform—the medals in his hand.

"This unexpected, but none the less, charming evening," he began; "has caused me a great deal of pleasure. It is a privilege to be among you."

"Oh, do hurry," groaned Polly.

"And I am indebted to our friend Miss Crosby, for the honor. With the assistance of your faculty—whose judgment I am sure you respect most heartily," he added, with a quiet smile; "I have chosen that very delightful painting of the apple orchard—without hesitation—as the most noteworthy and promising canvas in the room. It is with the greatest pleasure that I present Miss Lois Farwell with the medal."

Lois walked up to the platform. Her head was swimming and all the color had left her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said, as the medal on its purple ribbon slipped into her hand. She seemed to be treading on air as she walked back to Polly.

Maud received the other medal for her clever and original treatment of the yellow dog; her comment was typical.

"Oh, I say, thanks a lot!" she said, as she accepted it.

Miss Crosby detained Lois after the girls had all gone and introduced her to the two men. She heard their praise and criticism of her work with a beating heart. She was tempted to think it was all a dream, when she was back in her room, but the card she held in her hand, that the artist had given her, was proof of reality.

"Polly," she said, excitedly, "you should have heard the nice things he said to me, and he told me that if I wanted advice, to come to him. Imagine! I'm much too thrilled to go tamely to bed."

"I know," Polly agreed; "my heart was in my throat when he was talking. I thought he'd never stop. To-morrow I'm going to write Aunt Kate all about it. Think how delighted she'll be."

Lois smiled happily. "I know she will. She's always been so adorably interested in everything. I wish I had something to eat," she finished prosaically.

"I'll go see if Bet and Ange have anything," Polly offered.

She tip-toed out of the door—for the good night bell had rung—and started toward Betty's room. One of the housemaids was just coming down the corridor.

"Here's a telegram for you, Miss Polly," she said. "Mrs. Baird told me to bring it up; it's just come."

Polly took the yellow envelope and tore it open. "Lois," she cried, joyfully, rushing back to their room. "Look! a wire."

"Bob a hero—he's won his letter."

(Signed) "Jim."

"Isn't that wonderful?" Polly demanded. "Now we'll never get to sleep," she added, laughing.



CHAPTER XVIII

FIELD DAY

The two weeks after the exhibition had been taken up by final examinations—an anxious time for the graduating class.

Seddon Hall kept up a high standard and no girl could receive a diploma unless her marks showed a high average. When the papers were all corrected, a notice was posted on the bulletin board of the girls who had failed. Betty called it the black list.

"I know perfectly well my name will lead them all," she said. They were waiting in the corridor, for the list was to be posted to-day. "And if the Spartan has anything to do with it, she'll probably print it extra large," she added.

Angela and Polly and Lois were with her, and to a less extent they shared her fears.

"It really doesn't matter so much to you," Angela said; "You're none of you going to college, but imagine if I flunk anything."

"You can make it up this summer," Lois said.

"Yes, and take entrance exams. No, thanks; I'd prefer entering on certificate," Angela drawled.

Evelin and Helen came out of the study hall. "Any news yet?" Evelin asked.

Betty shook her head. "No," she said, solemnly, "it must be a very long list they are making out. What are you two nervous about?"

"Everything in general," Helen said, hopelessly, "but history in particular."

"The Dorothys are calmly indifferent," Polly remarked. "Why aren't they here?"

"They're coming now," Evelin said. "No news?" she called.

Dot Mead stopped half way down the corridor.

"This suspense is killing me," she said, "we've been trying to study our parts, but it's no use."

"This awful delay argues the very worst," Betty said. "We've all flunked everything, and all those beautiful new diplomas will never be used. What a cruel waste."

"Betty, do try and be a little more cheerful," Polly pleaded; "can't you see my knees are knocking together? Oh, if I ever live through this week!"

"That's the way I feel," Lois agreed, forlornly. "I've a million and one things to do and no time. Think of it, Field Day to-morrow!"

"And that means, we ought to be practicing all day to-day," Evelin said.

"Exactly, but if I practice to-day, I won't know my part for the play. I do wish Portia hadn't talked so much," Lois answered.

"Then there's all the things to see to about the dance," Angela added.

"And the Commencement Hymn to learn," Helen reminded them.

"The game's the most important," Polly said, decidedly, "but I don't want any of the team to do any practicing. Some one would be sure to get hurt."

"What are you going to do about Eleanor?" Betty asked.

"Give her a chance," Polly told her; "but she knows that the first foul she makes I take her out and put Maud in."

"Good! was she hurt?" Lois asked.

"No; she understands, and she's promised to be very careful—"

"Oh, where—oh, where is that list?" Dorothy Lansing returned to the subject with a sigh.

They waited in silence for a while longer, and at last their patience was rewarded. They heard a step on the stair and Mrs. Baird came towards them.

"What is this? a Senior class meeting?" she asked, smiling.

"No," Betty answered for them all. "We're waiting in agonized suspense for the exam list."

"Why, you poor children," Mrs. Baird laughed; "there isn't any list this year. You all passed in everything."

There was an exclamation of joyful relief from the girls.

"Thank goodness!" from Polly. "Now we can breathe in peace. Oh, but I'm glad!"

"Wasn't it fortunate I happened to come up," Mrs. Baird laughed. "You might have waited all afternoon. I really came to tell you that I have made arrangements at the hotel for all your families for the night before Commencement, and to find out if you expected any one here for the game to-morrow. Your mother and father are coming, Betty. I heard from them to-day."

"My uncle is coming if he possibly can," Polly added.

"Mother and Dad will surely be here," Lois said, "and so will Bob; but he'll be late."

"There will be more visitors than usual for to-morrow, won't there?" Mrs. Baird asked. "You'll have to win the game, Polly."

"If I don't, I'll hide somewhere and never show my face again," Polly answered. "Think how awful it would be to lose on our own floor, and with visitors to witness the defeat."

"Well, don't worry about it," Mrs. Baird advised. "You know the best team always wins."

"We beat last year. So this year it's their turn," Angela teased.

The next day the visitors began to arrive on the noon train. All morning the girls had been busy decorating the gym and practicing songs. By luncheon time everything was ready, and the Fenwick school team arrived in one big carryall, followed by another, filled with their friends and well-wishers. Polly, as captain, was so busy with her duties that she had only a minute now and then to think of the game.

Dr. and Mrs. Farwell came among the first guests and she and Lois happened to be in the front hall when they arrived.

"Where's Uncle Roddy?" Polly asked, after she had greeted them, "and where, oh, where is Bob?"

"Roddy will be up later," the doctor told her.

"And Bob may not be able to come," Mrs. Farwell explained. "You see he wants to be here surely for the dance—"

"Jim's coming too, isn't he?" Lois interrupted. "He wrote he would."

"Yes; they'll both be here to-morrow without fail," her mother assured her. "And Bob will come to-day, if he possibly can."

But there was no sign of him when Polly glanced up at the visitors' gallery, as the Seddon Hall team marched into the gym at two o'clock.

"There's a train due now; maybe he's on that," Lois whispered under cover of the singing.

"What a bunch of people," Betty exclaimed, looking around the room.

Every seat in the gallery was filled with friends and relatives, and the girls had been forced to find places on the floor downstairs.

The teams stopped and faced each other in the center of the floor. Polly's heart sank; somehow the Fenwick team looked more imposing in gym suits than she had expected, and she remembered that one of the guards had told her they had won every game they had played that year.

"Perhaps," she thought, "it's just as well Bob isn't here."

They took their places on the floor, and Miss Stewart blew the whistle. In a game that really counts, there is no sound so exciting as that first whistle. It means so much. Betty rose to her toes at the sound of it, and faced the opposing jumping center.

"I think I'd like the first ball," the Fenwick girl said, laughing.

"Sorry, but you can't have it," Betty replied, bounding into the air; "it's mine!" She batted it back towards Fanny.

"Good!" Polly whispered to Lois, and raised her left hand above her head.

But the Fenwick side center intercepted Fanny's pass and, before they knew it, the ball was down at the other end. Evelin failed to guard her forward and, after a high toss, the ball fell into the basket.

Dorothy Mead, as official score keeper, drew a 2 slowly on the blackboard. Fanny felt the fault was entirely hers and turned appealing eyes to her captain.

"Cheer up!" Polly called. "That's only one; dodge her next time."

But Fanny didn't get a chance to even touch the ball, for Betty lost the toss up, and the ball was spirited away to the other goal. Evelin fought hard, but Eleanor was so busy thinking about the lines that the Fenwick team made another basket.

"Oh, this is awful! I never saw Eleanor so slow," Lois said.

Betty lost the next toss up, too, but, fortunately, Evelin stopped it and threw to Fanny. She passed to Betty, and Lois waited for it near the line, but her guard kept her from getting it. They fought hard in the center for the next few minutes. Eleanor got so excited that she stepped over the line, the whistle blew, and the Fenwick forward made a basket. The score was five to nothing.

Eleanor looked at Polly, but she shook her head.

"The first half is almost up," she said to Lois. "I don't want to change yet."

Fanny fumbled the next ball Betty sent her.

"That's inexcusable," Lois declared, angrily, and Betty stamped her foot in rage. Fanny began to cry.

"That's the end," Lois said; "you can't put a sub in for her."

"No; but I can do something equally as good," Polly replied, quietly. "Wait till this half is over." It was like her to be carelessly hopeful, when everybody else was in despair.

The Fenwick team scored again before the longed-for whistle blew.

"There's Bob and Uncle Roddy," Polly said, just as the ball dropped into the basket. "He's looking at the score," she added, laughing.

Lois stared at her in amazement.

"Poll, what's the matter with you?" she demanded. "Do you realize that the score is seven to nothing!"

"Yes," Polly replied in unruffled tones, "but there's another half, and you seem to have forgotten that."

The school broke into a song and the teams sat down for a much needed rest. Polly looked up at the gallery and nodded merrily to Bob. Then she went up to Eleanor.

"I'm sorry; but I'm going to put Maud in the next half," she said.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Eleanor exclaimed. "I've lost my nerve."

"Get ready, Maud," Polly said, going over to the subs; "you've got a hard job ahead."

"Righto!" Maud said, instantly; and Polly walked over to Fanny. She was crying on Betty's shoulder.

"Take me out," she sobbed, as Polly came up. "I'm no good on earth."

"You are quite right; you aren't," Polly replied, sternly. "I never saw such a silly exhibition of flunk. If I had any one to put in your place, I would; but you know I haven't."

Betty looked up in surprise. She thought Polly was being a little too hard on poor Fanny.

"I never saw such poor plays in my life," Polly continued, relentlessly. "You seemed to enjoy flunking. If you'd stop thinking of Jack and John and the rest of your admirers and pay a little attention to the game, we might stand a chance," she concluded, coldly.

"Why, Polly!" Fanny dried her eyes. "You shouldn't talk to me like that. I did the best I could, and I wasn't thinking of boys," she denied, angrily, "and you know it."

Polly refused to even listen. She turned her back on Fanny and sat down beside Lois.

"And that's all right," she said contentedly.

"What is?" Lois demanded. "Poll, we haven't a chance."

"Oh, yes, we have; just watch."

The whistle blew for the second half and the teams returned to their places. Instead of tears, Fanny's eyes flashed indignant protest, and her mouth was set in a firm line.

Maud took Eleanor's place, much to the latter's satisfaction. Betty won the first toss up, passed the ball to Fanny. She bounced it to line and threw it to Polly. She was so angry that she literally fired the ball. Polly caught it, tossed it to Lois, and she made a clean basket.

"What did I tell you?" she said; "we're going to win this game."

They played hard for the rest of the half. Maud persistently refused to let the Fenwick forward even touch the ball. In her attempt to get beyond the reach of Maud's guarding arm, she went over the line, and Polly made a basket on the foul.

The spectators were breathless as the score mounted up—7-3, 7-5 and at last 7-7. The girls cheered encouragement and Bob and Uncle Roddy clapped so hard that Polly and Lois looked up and waved.

Lois had just caught a ball that Betty threw and was aiming for a basket when the whistle blew.

"Now, what!" Betty demanded. "We can't stop with a tie."

Miss Stewart consulted the two captains.

"We will play an extra two minutes," she said, "to decide. Ready!"

It was a tense second. The school groaned as the Fenwick center won the toss, but they had forgotten Maud. She jumped high in the air and batted the ball back to Betty, who passed it to Fanny, and then ran to the line to receive it again. Lois was waiting for it and passed it low to Polly and dashed to the goal post. Polly threw it back to her and she threw for the basket. There was an agonized silence as the ball tottered on the iron rim, that broke into a shout of triumph as it dropped in the basket, a fraction of a minute before the whistle blew.

Seddon Hall had won—a splendid victory—and Polly's dream was realized. The girls crowded around her and cheered; then lifted her according to custom, shoulder high, and carried her around the room.

"Where's Fanny Gerard?" she asked as soon as they put her down before the cup she had won.

"Here!" Betty called, pulling the reluctant center to her.

Polly threw her arms around her. "Fanny, will you ever forgive me?" she said. "I didn't mean a word of all those horrid things I said—not one. I only did it to make you mad. I knew if you could only begin to rage, you'd get back your nerve, and you did; you played like a little fury—but oh, how I hated to do it!"

Fanny threw back her head and laughed with relief. "Oh, Polly!" she exclaimed, "I thought you really meant it."

Maud accepted Polly's praise with genuine pleasure. For once her stolid indifference gave way to natural enthusiasm. Mrs. Baird presented Polly with the cup, and the Fenwick captain added to her joy by telling her that she had never seen such a wonderful exhibition of generalship. Dr. and Mrs. Farwell, with Uncle Roddy and Bob were waiting at the door as the girls came out bundled up in their sweaters.

"Good for you, Polly!" Bob said, enthusiastically. "That certainly was a ripping game, and you deserve a whole lot of credit. I take back everything I ever said about your girls' basket ball. Let's see the cup," he added.

Polly showed it to him.

"I'm proud of you, Tiddledewinks," Uncle Roddy said, "and Lois, too. You have a splendid eye. That last goal was well made." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm dumbfounded!" the doctor exclaimed. "I had no idea girls did anything as strenuous as this."

"You must be tired out?" Mrs. Farwell said, "and you'll catch cold. Do hurry back to school and change."

Polly and Lois started.

"I wish Jim had been here," Lois called over her shoulder to Bob. "Perhaps he might have changed his mind about basket ball being a good enough girls' game," she said.

"He'll be here to-morrow," Bob replied. "And you can trust me to see that his mind is changed," he promised.



CHAPTER XIX

THE SENIOR DANCE

History classroom, converted temporarily into a dressing room, was a scene of busy confusion. The Seniors were being "made up"—a woman had come from New York especially for the purpose.

It was almost time for the play to begin and everybody was in a hurry. Outside the Assembly Hall was rapidly filling and the murmur of voices penetrated to the dressing room.

"There must be a perfect swarm of visitors," Betty said. "I know the minute I get on that stage I'll forget every one of my lines," she added, as she looked critically at herself in the glass. She was playing the part of Shylock, and her long beard and gray wig disguised her almost beyond recognition.

"Do you think I need some more lines on my face?" she asked Miss Crosby, who was acting as stage manager.

"No, Betty dear, I don't; I think you're quite ugly enough," Miss Crosby answered her. "Are you ready, Polly?"

"No; I'm still struggling with this sash," Polly answered, coming out from behind a screen dressed as Bassanio.

"I'll fix it. There!" Miss Crosby tied the refractory sash and then stood off to view the effect. "You make a very gallant and graceful Bassanio," she said.

"Where's my Portia?" Polly inquired.

Lois was being "made up"; so she could only laugh in response. She was charming in a full black velvet gown, trimmed with heavy white lace, and her hair was crowned by a cap of pearls.

Angela, in dark green, was no less lovely as Nerissa. Evelin made a dignified Antonio, and Dot Mead a jaunty Gratiano. Helen played the double role of Salarino and the Moor, while Dorothy Lansing took The Prince of Arragon and the Gaoler.

On account of the small number of Seniors, all of the lesser characters had been omitted, and the play had been cut down to three acts.

The first—the Venetian street scene, where Antonio bargains with Shylock. The second—the choosing of the caskets, and the third—the courtroom.

Angela, who was industriously shaking powder into her new satin slipper because it hurt, began reciting her lines:

"'Your Father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations—'"

"Do keep still, Ange," Betty begged; "you'll get me all mixed up. 'Oh, upright judge—a Daniel—come prepare—'" she murmured to herself.

Lois in the other corner of the room was chanting: "'The quality of mercy is not strained—it droppeth like the gentle dew from Heaven upon the place beneath. It is thrice blest—' There, I know I'll get that wrong," she broke off—"it's 'twice blest,' and I always say 'thrice.'"

"You're far too generous with your blessings," Polly laughed. "I feel perfectly sure that I will giggle right out when you say: 'You see me Lord Bassanio as I am—' you know."

"Don't you dare look at me," Lois warned, "or I'll laugh, too. Mercy, listen to those people! I'm going to peep." She opened the door a crack and looked out into the Assembly Hall. She saw Maud and Fanny, who were acting as two of the ushers, seating the new arrivals.

"The hall's jammed," she told the girls. "How many guests have you to-night, Dot?" she asked.

"Six! My mother, two girl cousins of mine and three boys."

"I expect five," Evelin said. "I hope they're all here. Did you notice two lanky men, a girl that looks like me, and my mother and father?"

"No, I didn't," Lois said; "that is, I can't recognize them from your description."

"Wasn't it a shame your mother couldn't come, Betty?" Polly said. "But, of course, Dick is here," she teased.

"No, he's not," Lois laughed. "I'd have seen his red head in the crowd if he had been."

"He's coming with John Frisby and Ange's sister and brother-in-law," Betty said, without paying any attention to Lois' teasing.

"There'll be at least twenty couples for the dance," Polly said. "That means the room won't look half empty, the way it did last year."

"I hope there's enough sherbet," Evelin said; "boys always eat twice as much as you expect them to."

"Well, there are cakes enough to feed a whole army," Dorothy Lansing added. "I know, for I ordered them."

"The orchestra is here. Oh, bother that buckle! it's sure to come off," Helen exclaimed.

"Has the sherbet come, does anybody know?" Angela asked.

"They promised it by six o'clock," Dot Mead replied; "it's surely here by now."

"It's time for the curtain," Miss Crosby called, as she came down from the stage, where she had been putting the last finishing touches to the Venetian street. "Are you ready?"

Polly and Angela and Helen jumped up.

"Don't forget your cue, Betty," Angela warned, "and don't you dare make me laugh."

Miss Crosby gave the signal for the lights to be turned off and a low murmur of anticipation ran through the Assembly Hall as the curtain rose.

Betty's clever interpretation of Shylock won the applause for the first act.

"Jemima! I'm glad that's over," she said as the curtain rang down. "The grease paint is all running down my cheeks. It's awfully hot up there."

They heard the audience still applauding.

"Go take a curtain call, Betty," Miss Crosby called. "All of you, hurry up! Lois, are you and Angela ready for the next act?"

It is hard to say who held the stage during the casket scene. Angela was sweet as Nerissa, and Polly made such a charming lover that she was especially applauded. Lois delighted every one as Portia, but, of course, her real triumph came in the next act.

It is one of the hardest things in the world to recite lines with which your audience is familiar and put sufficient new meaning in them to hold their attention. It is so easy to fall into a sing-song chant, particularly with a long speech. But Lois did it. She gave each word its proper stress and the soft mellow quality of her voice gained her extra praise.

It was a tired, but happily contented cast that took the encore after the final curtain, and the audience were enthusiastic in their applause.

"And now, for the dance," Polly exclaimed, as they hurried back to the dressing room to change their costumes. "I wish we could go as we are—"

"Why, Polly, you shock me," Betty laughed. "I can't imagine eating sherbet with this beard."

"They are pushing back the chairs; hear them?" Lois said. "Do hurry, Poll."

They finished dressing, and joined their party waiting for them in one corner of the room. Jim Thorp and Bob were extravagant in their congratulations.

"I expect that Lo will be starring in less than a year. How many people have called you a born actress, little sister?" he asked.

"Oh, at least a million!" Lois replied; for she was not to be teased.

"How do you like being a man, Polly?" Jim inquired. "You were so dashing and debonair, that I bet every fellow in the room felt big and clumsy in comparison."

"That pretty girl who played Nerissa was fine. I'd like to meet her," Bob said, "and you must introduce Jim to Betty; I want him to see her without the beard."

"All right; come on, and let's find them; they'll be together," Polly suggested as the music started.

"Oh, let's have one dance first!" Bob said.

After the dance ended, all the girls tried to introduce their friends to one another. It was a little confusing, for all the boys wanted to dance with every girl. Polly was so busy, meeting and dancing with different partners, that she didn't see Bob again until much later in the evening. He was standing in one corner of the room and he looked very warm.

"Let's go out," he suggested. "It's so awfully hot in here; it's not against the rules, or anything, is it?" he added, as Polly hesitated.

She laughed. "No, of course not; but I was trying to remember who I had the next dance with," she said.

"With me," Bob assured her promptly. "Come on; I have your scarf in my pocket." They slipped out of one of the long windows at the end of the hall and walked toward the pond.

"Bob, do you realize that this is my last night at Seddon Hall?" Polly said, seriously. Bob nodded. "Yes, to-morrow you get your nice, beribboned diploma, or, I suppose it's beribboned; is it?"

"Yes!" Polly answered absently.

"Lucky you."

"Why?"

"To have finished. There's nothing more thoroughly satisfactory than finishing something," Bob said, earnestly.

"But some things are too wonderful ever to finish," Polly objected, looking down at the stars reflected in the pond. "I'm simply broken-hearted at the thought of leaving to-morrow. It's all been so fine. Why, Bobby, what will life away from Seddon Hall be like?"

"Whatever you make it, I suppose," Bob said, wisely. Polly was silent for a time.

"Well," she said at last, "whatever I do, or whatever happens to me, it will never be quite as nice as Seddon Hall."

"What a happy outlook," Bob teased. "Polly, you're indulging in the blues. Stop it!" he commanded.

Polly laughed and gave herself a little shake. "All right! It's the stars, they always make me sad; come on, let's go back and dance."

As they returned they met Betty and Dick. They were hurrying around the corner of the house.

"Whither away?" Polly called, gaily.

"Oh, Poll, the most awful thing has happened!" Betty explained, when they came up to them. "The sherbet didn't come and all the class are tearing their hair; we're out looking for it."

"Better join the expedition," Dick laughed.

"Betty tells me there are no less than seven back doors to this place, and the sherbet may be melting at any one of them."

"Oh, Dick, it's serious!" Betty said, crossly. "Dot Mead called up the caterer and he said it had been delivered," she explained to Polly.

"A tragedy!" Bob exclaimed. "I must have sherbet; the party will be ruined without it."

"Of course it will," Betty answered; "you can't do just with chicken salad. It's got to be found. You go that way and we'll go this. Look at every door, and perhaps we'll find it."

They started in opposite directions, but when they met outside of the Assembly Hall a few minutes later the sherbet was still missing.

"I'm going to tell Mrs. Baird," Betty said; "maybe she can suggest something to do. Dick, you wait here with Polly and Bob. I'll be right back."

And she disappeared through the window.

"Do you suppose," Polly said, suddenly—"I have an idea. Come with me, both of you." She ran down the road, regardless of satin slippers, as far as the gym. "They may have left it here by mistake," she said to the boys.

Bob ran to the door. "Here it is!" he exclaimed. He pointed to the six buckets packed full of ice.

"What will we do with it?" Dick inquired. "Carry it back to Betty?"

"No; we'll unpack it here—ugh! The ice is all slushy." She stood back to save her dress.

"We'll do it," Bob said. "You look out. Here Dick, dump them."

"You'll ruin your clothes," Polly protested. "Wait and I'll get some one from the house."

"Never!" Dick declared, "wait even an instant while this precious stuff melts; I should say not."

"All right, you unpack it; be careful of the tins, the covers fall off sometimes, and the salt gets in the ice cream," she warned. "I'll go find Betty."

She found her on the Senior porch. She was just coming out with one of the maids.

"We've found it!" Polly called to her.

"Jemima! where?" Betty demanded.

"At the gym. The driver must have just dumped it down at the first door he came to. The boys are unpacking it."

Fifteen minutes later the sherbet, a little melted and, perhaps a trifle salty, was served in glass cups and no one but the agonized Seniors and Dick and Bob knew of the narrow escape.

The rescuing party joined Lois and Jim over in one corner of the room.

"It's delicious," Bob said, feelingly. "Jim, did you ever unpack ice cream cans that were completely surrounded by slush?" he asked, casually.

"No!" Jim said, wonderingly. "Why?"

"Didn't you? You should have."

"Do it the next warm night when you're all dressed up."

"It's a great way to cool off," Dick advised.

"What are they talking about, Poll?" Lois demanded.

Polly explained. "It was such a lark watching them!" she concluded, laughing.

"I'm going to write," Betty began, and then stopped abruptly.

"Write what?" Dick asked.

Betty's expression changed. "Jemima!" she said slowly; "I was going to say, that the next composition I wrote would be on the Quest of the Missing Sherbet and then I suddenly remembered that I wouldn't have to write any more. This is our last night," she added, solemnly.

Polly and Lois looked at her. The smiles faded from their lips, and they ate the rest of the sherbet in silence.



CHAPTER XX

COMMENCEMENT

Commencement was over. The service in the little church had been very simple, but very beautiful. The Seniors dressed in the daintiest of white lawn dresses had received their diplomas, and marched slowly down the center aisle.

There had been a hurried scramble back to school. A change of clothes and then the long line of carriages had started for the station.

Polly stood on the last step of the Senior porch. Lois and her mother and father had just left for the train. They were returning to Albany for a little while before leaving for the summer vacation.

Polly was going back to New York with Uncle Roddy in his car. She watched the last carriage out of sight. There was an unnatural silence about the school buildings and she looked dejectedly at the deserted grounds. Uncle Roddy was saying good-by to Mrs. Baird at the door.

"Are you ready to start, Tiddledewinks?" he asked, handing her suitcase to the chauffeur, and waiting to help her in the car.

Polly turned to Mrs. Baird.

"I suppose so; it's all over and I can't think of any excuse to stay," she said, making a pitiful attempt at a smile.

"Dear child," Mrs. Baird said, affectionately, "don't talk like that. Seddon Hall always has a place for all her girls; a diploma doesn't make any difference and I can promise that there will always be an extra warm welcome for a certain little girl."

Polly kissed her impulsively. "I'll be back so often next year that you'll get tired of me," she laughed, as she got into the car. Mrs. Baird waved until they turned the bend in the road. Polly looked back in a last farewell, until the buildings on the hill were a tiny speck. Then she turned to her uncle. "Uncle Roddy," she said, seriously, "do you remember what you said to me the first night I was home, after my Freshman year?"

"No, dear; not particularly," Uncle Roddy replied. "What was it?"

"You told me that you hoped every year of my life would be happier than the last," she told him. "Well it has, up until now, but I feel suddenly lost. What am I going to do?"

Uncle Roddy laughed and he took her hand.

"You're going to begin a new chapter in life, dear," he said, seriously, "and I think you'll find it more interesting and fuller than the last."

"Will I?" Polly asked, wonderingly.

"Yes," Uncle Roddy said, confidently. "It will be fuller and more worth while. I know I can trust my Tiddledewinks to make it that."

Polly pondered in silence for a few minutes. Then her frown disappeared and she gave herself a little shake thereby dismissing all regrets. She turned to look back in the direction of the school.

"Good-by, dear old Seddon Hall," she said, smiling, "I'm ready for the next chapter."

THE END



THE POLLY PENDLETON 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.

1 POLLY'S FIRST YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL 2 POLLY'S SUMMER VACATION 3 POLLY'S SENIOR YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL 4 POLLY SEES THE WORLD AT WAR 5 POLLY AND LOIS

Cloth, Large 12mo., Illustrated.



Dorothy Whitehill Series

For Girls



Here is a sparkling new series of stories for girls—just what they will like, and ask for more of the same kind. It is all about twin sisters, who for the first few years in their lives grow up in ignorance of each other's existence. Then they are at last brought together and things begin to happen. Janet is an independent go-ahead sort of girl; while her sister Phyllis is—but meet the twins for yourself and be entertained.

5 Titles, Cloth, large 12mo.

Covers in color.

1. JANET, A TWIN 2. PHYLLIS, A TWIN 3. THE TWINS IN THE WEST 4. THE TWINS IN THE SOUTH 5. THE TWINS' SUMMER VACATION



THE MARY JANE SERIES

BY CLARA INGRAM JUDSON

Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated.

With picture inlay and wrapper.



Mary Jane is the typical American little girl who bubbles over with fun and the good things in life. We meet her here on a visit to her grandfather's farm where she becomes acquainted with farm life and farm animals and thoroughly enjoys the experience. We next see her going to kindergarten and then on a visit to Florida, and then—but read the stories for yourselves.

Exquisitely and charmingly written are these books which every little girl from five to nine years old will want from the first book to the last.

1 MARY JANE—HER BOOK 2 MARY JANE—HER VISIT 3 MARY JANE'S KINDERGARTEN 4 MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH 5 MARY JANE'S CITY HOME 6 MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND



THE TOMLINSON SERIES

BY EVERETT T. TOMLINSON.



Interest in school life is perpetual. The young student, facing new surroundings, finds an element of romance and strong appeal; and to the older graduate college days recall some of the most pleasant memories of the past.

Here are stories of school life and athletics, full of action and human interest. They deal with problems of life common to students and inspire the manly attributes of self-reliance and strength of character.

THE PENNANT. CAPTAIN DAN RICHARDS. CARL HALL OF TAIT. JACK STONE OF TAIT SCHOOL.

(Other volumes in preparation)

Cloth, Large 12mo., Illustrated.

For sale at all bookstores or sent (postage paid) on receipt of price by the publishers.



THE GO AHEAD BOYS

BY ROSS KAY.

I leave this rule for others when I'm dead: Be always sure you're right—THEN GO AHEAD.

—Davy Crockett's Motto.



The love of adventure is inborn in all normal boys. Action is almost a supreme demand in all the stories they read with most pleasure. Here is presented a series of rattling good adventure stories which every live "go ahead" boy will read with unflagging interest. There is action, dash and snap in every tale yet the tone is healthful and there is an underlying vein of resourcefulness and strength that is worth while.

1 THE GO AHEAD BOYS ON SMUGGLERS' ISLAND. 2 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE TREASURE CAVE. 3 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE MYSTERIOUS OLD HOUSE. 4 THE GO AHEAD BOYS IN THE ISLAND CAMP. 5 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND THE RACING MOTOR BOAT. 6 THE GO AHEAD BOYS AND SIMON'S MINE.

(Other volumes in preparation)

Cloth, Large 12mo., Illustrated.



Thrilling Tales That Teach True Patriotism

FLAG & COUNTRY SERIES

By PAUL G. TOMLINSON



When the World War broke out, Bob Cook and his friend Hugh were in High School. They chafed at being too young to enlist, but soon found that there was plenty to do for their country right at home. And later they found that they could do still bigger things.

These are real boys' books for real boys. Each story contains mystery, excitement, or adventure from the very first chapter to the last.

Cloth, Large 12 mo., Illustrated.

Bob Cook and the German Spy Bob Cook and the German Air Fleet Bob Cook's Brother in the Trenches Bob Cook and the Winged Messengers Bob Cook and the Bomb Plot

BARSE & HOPKINS NEWARK N. J. NEW YORK N. Y.

THE END