Polly's Senior Year at Boarding School Part 3

"Yes, all the upper school," Jane told her.

They were talking of the coming basket ball election.

"But how do we know who to vote for?" demanded Helen. "We've never seen them play."

"You ask an old girl," Jane replied loftily. "As it happens, this year they'll all tell you the same thing."

"What?"

"Oh, I know," Phylis answered eagerly. "They'll tell you to vote for Polly Pendleton. Florence told me she played a wonderful game, and to be sure and vote for her."

"She does, too," Jane agreed with enthusiasm, "but so does Lois Farwell.

I can't make up my mind which to choose, and it's awfully important."

"Is Polly the one that sits next to Mrs. Baird on the right," Catherine asked, "with the brown hair?"

"Yes, that's Polly."

"Well, I love her; she's so pretty; and, anyway, I'm going to vote for her," she finished.

"Who's the beautiful Senior with golden hair?" Winifred inquired. "I'd like to vote for her."

Jane laughed heartily. Sometimes news of the upper school leaked into the lower, and she had heard Angela's views on all strenuous sports.

"That's Angela Hollywood; she's awfully funny, but, oh dear, she can't play basket ball; why she's never even made the team."

"Tell us who'll make it this year?" Helen asked. "Do new girls ever get on?" she added wistfully.

"Polly was the only one who made it; that is for five years," Phylis explained; "she was a new girl and a Freshman. My sister's best friend, Louise Preston, was captain that year. I wish it would happen again; but no fear, I guess we'll have to wait."

"If we sit here talking about it, I'll begin to hope," and Jane jumped up and began brus.h.i.+ng her hair. "It's time to dress anyway."

Her guests took the hint and departed, all except Phylis.

"That spoils it all," she said, when the door closed.

"All what?" Jane inquired.

"Why, I'd picked some flowers, and I was going to give them to Polly, but now if she's going to be the captain--it looks--"

"Nonsense; it does not," Jane contradicted. "Send them but don't be silly about it, Polly wouldn't think of letting you have a crush on her."

"Will you put your name on the card, too?" Phylis asked.

Jane considered. "I will if you send them to Lois, too," she said, thereby giving away a secret she had hoped to keep.

After the Senior meeting Polly decided she needed air.

"I'm going now, this minute," she declared. "I'm suffocated."

Lois, who had thrown herself down on the bed between laughter and tears, murmured a vague promise to follow. She changed her mind later and decided on a cold shower instead.

As she went down the stairs to Roman Alley, she heard some one stumble, and then the thud, thud, of falling boxes.

"Who is it, did you hurt yourself?" she called, and hurried around the turn of the stairs. A remarkably pretty woman looked up from a waterfall of canvases.

"No; but I deserved to, for carrying a lazy man's load," she laughed.

"Let me help," Lois offered, starting to pick up the canvases, "you must be Miss Crosby. Oh, but that's nice," she added suddenly, holding out a sketch at arm's length.

Miss Crosby smiled.

"Do you like it? I did it this summer. Are you interested in drawing?"

she asked.

"Oh, yes!" Lois's tone was surprised--as if any one could doubt such a well known fact.

"Then you must be Lois Farwell," she said.

"Why, I am."

Miss Crosby's smile broadened. "I thought you were; you see Mrs. Baird told me--" she hesitated, "well it doesn't matter what. If you'll help me up with these things I'll be ever so grateful."

Together they carried all the pictures up to Miss Crosby's room, and Lois stood them up against the bed and walls, and then admired them.

Miss Crosby made her talk, and understood what she said, which was difficult for most people when Lois talked art. In fact she completely forgot she was Senior President, and had barely time to scramble into her dress and reach the platform to announce to the a.s.sembled old girls the plans for the coming dance.

It was not until after study hour that Polly and she returned to their room and found the flowers. Polly almost stepped on them as she opened the door.

"What under the sun?" Lois turned on the light. "Flowers? do look! To Polly and Lois from Jane and Phylis."

"Crushes," gasped Lois, "how awful!"

Then they looked at each other and laughed.

CHAPTER III

f.a.n.n.y

Sundays, that is to say, Boarding School Sundays, are apt to be longer than any of the other days in the week.

Certainly it was so of Seddon Hall. Mrs. Baird thought the girls needed "time off to think," as she expressed it, so that, after the morning service in the little village church, the rest of the day was free.

It had always proved a good idea, for after a week spent in obedience to bells, a whole day to do as you please in, has an exhilarating effect.