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Polly's First Year at Boarding School Part 22

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Polly opened hers first, and the rest watched eagerly.

"It just says: 'A friend of a very dear friend of yours,'" she read.

"Who can that be? Read yours, Lo."

"Mine says: 'In remembrance of a charming evening.'"

"Listen, I know," Betty exclaimed. "'From a devoted admirer, once mayor of a certain city.' Don't you see, it's Mr. Whittington, that friend of your uncle's, Polly."



"Of course it is, and the very dear friend of mine is Uncle Roddy,"

Polly exclaimed delightedly.

"The charming evening must be the night we went to see 'Peter Pan,'"

Lois said. "Wasn't it nice of him to remember it."

"But why does he say 'once mayor of a certain city'?" Connie inquired, re-reading Betty's card.

"Oh, that's because Bet nicknamed him Lord Mayor of London," Polly explained. "His name is really d.i.c.k Whittington."

They each selected a candy, and munched in happy silence.

"Lois Farwell, Lois Farwell. Oh, Lois," a voice called suddenly from the depths of the hall. "Where are you?"

"Here, in the express-room," Lois answered; "What is it?"

Dot Mead poked her head in the doorway.

"You're wanted upstairs, right away, hurry!"

"Why?" chorused everybody.

"Oh, never mind," Dot said, mysteriously, "only hurry."

They were no sooner in the a.s.sembly Hall again before Mrs. Baird tapped the little desk bell for silence.

"Girls, the Seniors have decided to award the prize of the evening to Jeanne D'Arc, impersonated by Lois Farwell. Lois, will you come here, dear?"

The girls made an opening through the center of the room. Lois, too mystified for words, walked slowly up to the platform. Mrs. Baird presented her with a tiny silver loving cup. "This gives me very great pleasure, my dear," she said smiling, "because Jeanne D'Arc is one of my favorite heroines, too."

Lois tried to stammer her thanks. Just then Louise Preston stepped forward with a wreath of laurel. "Here's the crown that goes with it, Lo," she whispered. "Kneel down."

Lois knelt on the lower step, and Louise placed the wreath on her head.

"I crown you the most beautiful picture of the evening," she said. And the girls broke out in heartiest applause.

"I knew it, I knew it," Miss Porter whispered to Miss King. "She's exquisite. See how her eyes sparkle when she blushes. She's exactly the sensitive, delicate type, for a Jeanne D'Arc."

"She is lovely," Miss King agreed, in her frank way. "But if I'd had the awarding of the prize, Polly would have had it. She's a splendid girl, she gave me a sweater, as well as a tam for Martha. I love that spirit."

Lois went to bed, elated at her success, and the praise she had received. She smiled delightedly at her reflection in the mirror.

"I wonder," she mused, "if any one will ever tell Mother about this. I would like her to know but, of course, I can't myself."

CHAPTER XI

PRACTICING FOR THE INDOOR MEET

The last bell had just sounded and the girls were leaving the schoolroom for the day. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since the Valentine party. Today was Wednesday and the coming Sat.u.r.day was the date fixed for the Indoor Meet.

The Whitehead School basket-ball team was to meet the Seddon Hall girls for their annual game. The year before they had played at Whitehead and were beaten. This year the game was to be played at Seddon Hall and the girls were determined there should be no more defeats.

"Wait a minute, you two," called Connie, as she and Angela caught up with Polly and Lois in the schoolroom corridor. "I've news; such news!"

"What is it?" inquired Lois, in the act of retying Polly's hair ribbon.

"Don't breathe a word about it. I don't suppose Louise Preston wants it known all over the school," answered Connie. "But as I was going through Senior Corridor to my music lesson, I heard her say to Gladys Couch (jumping center on the big team): 'Then you won't be here for Sat.u.r.day?'

And Glid said: 'Isn't it awful, Louise, but I don't see how I can possibly get back before Monday.' Well, of course, Polly, you know what that means."

"What's the giddy secret?" sang out Betty, coming towards them from one of the cla.s.srooms.

"Bet, oh, Bet, catch me quick!" cried Polly, falling into her arms in a mock faint. "Such news! Tell her, some one, quick!"

"Wah!" exclaimed Betty when she had heard. "You'll have to play on the big team, Polly. Isn't that bully!"

As they all stood talking it over, in subdued whispers, Louise Preston appeared at the other end of the corridor.

"Oh, Polly," she called, "can you spare me a few minutes? Let's go in this cla.s.sroom; then we won't be disturbed."

She put her arm around Polly's shoulder as she had done the first day.

Once inside the cla.s.sroom, she began:

"We've had some pretty bad news this morning. Gladys Couch received a telegram that her brother is going to be married on Sat.u.r.day. Well, of course, Glid will have to go home. She can't very well ask them to postpone the wedding," she added, smiling, "and that leaves us without a jumping center. Polly, you know we simply must win this game. You'll have to play and you'll have to play as you never played before. Better get some practicing in and, remember, I'm depending on you."

She was gone before Polly could realize what had happened. She spent the rest of the day in the gym with Lois and Betty as Louise had suggested.

Misfortunes never come singly. The next day Flora Illington, the other subst.i.tute center, had a phone message that her father was very ill and she had to leave at once. Flora was just one of the girls at Seddon Hall; apart from her position on the team, she had no particular place in the school.

However, it was with genuine sympathy and feeling that the girls saw her leave and the week after heard of her father's death.

Flora never returned to school and after the letters of condolence were written and answered, she was forgotten.

Polly met Louise in the gym that afternoon.

"Isn't it dreadful about Flora?" she began.

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Polly's First Year at Boarding School Part 22 summary

You're reading Polly's First Year at Boarding School. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Dorothy Whitehill. Already has 537 views.

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