Polly's Senior Year at Boarding School Part 7

"Now who'd have thought it!"

They had not seen much of f.a.n.n.y in the last month. They had no idea she had taken their ridicule to heart. She had rebelled against it at first, and then, gradually, other interests had blotted out her resentment.

Lately she had been playing basket ball every day.

Evelin was the only one of the girls watching who was not surprised.

"She's the right build," she said, "and I know she's been at it all the time--but, of course, she doesn't expect to make the team."

"She ought to. Look at that!" Lois drew attention to another play.

"Imagine any one apparently as slow and dreamy as she is, playing such a rattling game. Let's put her down for a sub, anyway."

Polly, who had not been paying much attention to the rest, said suddenly:

"We'll have to put her on the main team. We need two girls, and there's only one other Junior besides f.a.n.n.y who can play, and that's Eleanor Trent. She was on the team at the school where she went last year. There she is, the girl with the auburn hair. She's used to boys' rules, but otherwise she's a good player."

"Jemima! two new girls!" Betty said dolefully. "Well, it can't be helped. Certainly the old ones are a hopeless lot."

"When do we tell them?" Evelin inquired. "Let's do it now. Goodness! I remember how thrilled I was when I was put on last year."

"Let's call them out of the game; that'll make them feel so important,"

Lois suggested.

So Polly asked permission from Miss Stewart, the gym teacher, and f.a.n.n.y and Eleanor came over to them.

Polly, as captain, told them they had been chosen for the big team.

Eleanor had rather expected it. She was a good player, but she was delighted and promised to try and make good.

But f.a.n.n.y! No words can express her excited raptures. She couldn't believe her good luck, and she sent the girls into peals of laughter by solemnly asking Polly to take her oath on it.

"I knew she'd be rare," Betty exclaimed on their way back to school. "I was sure she'd weep for joy."

"I hope it's all right," Lois said, doubtfully. "I wish she wasn't quite so excitable." Lois played basket ball with her head.

"Oh, she'll be all right if she doesn't go at it too hard," Polly said, a.s.suringly. "Wonder if we have any mail?" She stopped before the Senior letter box. "One for you, Lo, from your mother, and one for me. Let's go in English room and read them. Mine's from Bob."

The other girls found their mail, and went up to their rooms.

Lois and Polly, left alone, opened their letters and read them through.

"Mother's is awfully short," Lois said, before Polly had finished hers.

"She says she knows something awfully nice that's going to happen Thanksgiving, but she has promised Bob not to tell. What's yours about?"

"Oh, Lo! poor Bobbie has sprained his ankle and he can't run any more."

Polly's voice trembled. "I'll read you what he says:

"Dear Old Polly:

"Telegraphing congratulations is no good. It costs too much to be eloquent. Besides, I've a lot of things I want to say, but, first of all, Three Cheers for you. Seddon Hall is darn lucky to have such a corking little captain--and you'll lead them to victory and have your name on the cup. Make them put it on extra large."

"Old tease," Polly laughed, and Lois said: "Just like Bob."

"And now, I'm going to talk about myself. Two weeks ago I sprained all the ligaments in my foot, and--well, there's not much use my trying to be cheerful about it--not to you anyway. It means I probably won't be able to run again--and so, good-by to my hopes of winning my H. Remember the long talks we used to have about it?

I guess instead of watching me cross the tape from the grand stand, you'll sit beside me next May and listen to me groan while some other fellow runs in my place, which reminds me:

"I've planned a surprise for you and Lois on Thanksgiving. I don't like to boast, but it's rather nice--even mother says so.

"Drop me a line, Miss Basket Ball Captain, and tell me you'll accept.

"Yours, "Bob."

"How exciting! What do you suppose it is?" Lois demanded, as she followed Polly upstairs. "It's a shame about Bobbie's foot. Vacation begins next week. Isn't it thrilling! I do hope he has sense enough to bring home some one nice--but I suppose it will be his roommate, Jim Thorpe, as usual, and I don't like him much." They had reached their room by now.

"I'll bet the surprise is a football game, don't you?" Lois persisted.

"Oh, keep still, Lo!" Polly said, crossly, "and leave me alone."

Lo glanced up in surprise, and suddenly decided to look for Betty. She left Polly standing before the Crimson banner, blinking hard.

CHAPTER V

THANKSGIVING

Thanksgiving vacation started with the confusion and excitement always necessary when a school breaks up even for so short a time.

Polly and Lois could hardly wait until the Seddon Hall special pulled into the Grand Central station on Wednesday morning. The vacation began on Wednesday and the girls were expected to be back Sunday evening.

They were the first to jump to the platform as the train stopped.

Mrs. Farwell was waiting for them.

"Darling children!" She hugged and kissed them both. "How well you look!"

"Well? Why we're robust, Aunt Kate," Polly laughed, "and bursting with excitement."

"What's the surprise, Mother? Please tell us," Lois begged.

Mrs. Farwell only shook her head mysteriously. "Not a word until after luncheon. We must shop this morning." She looked at the girls despairingly. "How do you manage to wear out your clothes so? You both need everything new, particularly hats; the ones you have on are sights."

Uncle Roddy's car was waiting for them, and they got in it and were whirled away to the shops.

It was not until luncheon that they had a chance to breathe.

"There, that's settled." Mrs. Farwell viewed them with satisfaction. She was proud of them both. Lois' delicate handsomeness and Polly's clear cut beauty. She had chosen dark blue for the one and hunter's green for the other.

"Won't you girls ever take an interest in your clothes?" she asked, wonderingly. She couldn't believe they were quite as indifferent to the charming pictures they made in the very becoming hats and sporty topcoats as they pretended.