Polly's First Year at Boarding School

  CHAPTER XIII

  BETTY'S IDEA

  The long days in the infirmary dragged by and lengthened into weeks. Oneso closely resembled the other that Polly lost track of all time. UncleRoddy sent boxes containing everything that his generous mind couldthink of, to amuse the invalid, and the girls did their best to make thedays fly.

  At last the time came when, with the aid of a crutch and Miss King,Polly managed to hobble down the steps and out into the sunshine. It wasonly a matter of a couple of weeks after that, that she discarded thecrutch, and on a never-to-be-forgotten day made her appearance, a littleworn and shaky still, at the beginning of the Literature class. No oneexpected her, and her welcome was all that she could have dreamed of.

  In the meantime the snow had melted, to be replaced by slush and, asMarch ended, by mud. Polly slipped back easily into her accustomedplace. Easter vacation, spent at Atlantic City with Uncle Roddy, cameand went, so that when this chapter opens, spring was fully establishedand Seddon Hall was a mass of dogwood and violets.

  Today was the day of the Faculty tea, to be given by the Seniors, andPolly, Lois, and Betty were helping them make the sandwiches and fruitpunch.

  "Wah, but I'm hot and tired!" sighed Lois, holding a thin slice of breadin one hand and a knife smeared with mayonnaise dressing in the other.

  "You're lazy, you mean," replied Betty. "Try squeezing a few of theselemons if you want a sample of real work; they're as hard as rocks."

  Polly looked up, flushed from her task.

  "I've an idea," she exclaimed. "Look! Put the lemon on the floor androll it gently with your toe. See how soft it gets!" she continued asshe cut the rolled lemon in half and squeezed out the juice.

  "Bright idea!" congratulated Betty. "Why didn't you think of it before?"And putting a lemon on the floor, she started rolling it vigorously.

  "Lo, if you could see how funny you look," she added. "You've a daub ofdressing on the end of your nose."

  "Oh, would some power the giftie gie us, to see ourselves as others seeus," quoted Lois. "Who said that?" she inquired.

  (Please remember Betty was still rolling the lemon).

  One of the Sophomores, busy at the other end of the table, caught theremark and, to tease Betty who was renowned for her knowledge ofquotations, called:

  "Sir Thomas Moore, didn't he?"

  "Moore!" yelled Betty. "Certainly not! Robert Burns wrote it. Suchignorance! I am surprised!"

  Some one else exclaimed: "Why, Betty, you are crazy. Burns never saidanything as clever as that."

  Poor Betty was all up in arms. Like most people that love to tease, shewas not always conscious when she was being teased herself.

  "He didn't, didn't he?" she demanded. "Well, I'll _prove_ to you that hedid."

  At the word prove, delivered in her most emphatic manner, she put somuch extra pressure on the poor long-suffering lemon that it gave aprolonged squashy noise and oozed out all over the floor.

  "Oh, Bet, what a mess!" exclaimed Polly. "Look at the floor!"

  Betty looked and grumbled disgustedly:

  "That ends it. I'll squeeze no more lemons. It's all your fault, anyhow,Polly, for telling me to step on them."

  "Excuse me, dear," said Polly meekly, "I meant with moderation."

  As the girls stood laughing around the remains of the lemon, LouisePreston entered the room.

  "I can't get any one to pick violets for me. We've only one bowlful andwe need loads." Then as she saw the floor she asked: "Who's beenthrowing lemons?"

  "Oh, Bet got mad because I put a quotation in Moore's mouth thatbelonged to Burns, her beloved," laughed Mary Right.

  "Well, suppose you three girls go and get us some more flowers,"suggested Louise. "You don't look as if you were enjoying this very muchand, besides, we can't waste lemons."

  "We will go with pleasure," chorused the three.

  "Thanks ever so much," said Louise, and she added as they were leavingthe room: "Please don't do any arguing while you're about it, or Bet maystep on the violets."

  Ten minutes later the three were making their way to a brook whose banksthey knew would be covered with long-stemmed dogtooth violets.

  "Ungrateful wretches, these Seniors," grunted Betty, seating herself ona rock and stretching. "Work your fingers to the bone and never even getasked to come in the back door to their party."

  "Seems to me," mused Polly, "that all the other classes do theentertaining and the Freshmen do all the work."

  They were still for a few minutes and sat lazily on the moss watchingthe water gurgle over the stones at the bottom of the brook. FinallyBetty exclaimed:

  "I have it, the best idea! Listen! Why don't we give a farewell party tothe Seniors?"

  "It's never been done," replied Lois.

  "What of that? There's got to be a first time to everything, and itwould be such a lark."

  "But what kind of a party?"

  "A moonlight straw-ride and supper at Flat Rock," suggested Polly. "Mrs.Baird would let us, I know, she's such a dear."

  "How about the other girls?" inquired Lois. "Angela and Connie wouldlove it, of course, but the rest--"

  "The rest don't count," cut in Betty. "We have the majority and,besides, they always do what we suggest."

  "Let's call a class meeting tonight," said Polly. "And now, if we don'tstart to gather some violets, the Seniors won't accept our invitation ifwe do ask them to a party."

  For an hour they picked flowers and discussed the plans.

  "None of your garden parties with ice-cream and cake for me; there'snever any fun in that," remarked Betty, dipping a handful of witheredviolets into the brook.

  "Besides, that is what the 'sofs' have planned to do. Mary Rice told meabout it, confidentially," added Lois.

  "Therefore you immediately tell us," laughed Betty. "Well, they need notbe afraid of our copying them. Polly's plan's the best, if we can onlydo it."

  "Listen!" commanded Polly. "Wasn't that some one calling up there?"

  "Hello!" called a voice directly above them.

  The girls looked and there, standing on a rock, were Connie and Angela,with their arms full of dogwood.

  "Come on down," sang out Betty. "You're just the ones we want; we've awonderful idea."

  "Great! Bully!" exclaimed Angela and Connie when they had heard theplan. "Why didn't any one ever think of it before?"

  "We can take bacon in jars, and rolls, and broil the bacon over aregular camp fire," suggested Connie.

  "And I'll make up a new song just to the Seniors. None of the otherclasses have ever done that," announced Angela.

  "If we don't hurry back the Seniors will think we're lost," remindedPolly. Then with a sigh she added: "I do hope the rest of the class willlike the idea."

  They did. A class meeting was called and everybody voted it a dandyplan. The two Dorothys said their only objection would be in case theSpartan were chosen for chaperone. The rest laughed at the very thoughtand Polly promised to annihilate the first one to make such a horriblesuggestion.

  Lois was chosen to ask Mrs. Baird, and returned from the office with herfull permission.

  The day was set for the following Friday night, and Angela was told towrite a song.

  In the corridor that evening as the girls were talking over the plansfor the party, one of the maids appeared with a covered tray.

  "From the Seniors," she explained, handing it to Lois. "For Miss Polly,Miss Betty, Miss Angela, Miss Connie, and you."

  "Food!" exclaimed Betty. "Why, the Seniors aren't such ungratefulwretches as I thought them."

  "Indeed they are not; they've the best class in the school," protestedLois.

  "With one exception," Polly corrected, "the Freshmen."

  And after a subdued cheer they started in to make short work of thetray's contents.