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[Illustration: Singing and cheering wildly they carried her to the
other end of the gym.]
POLLY'S FIRST YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BY
DOROTHY WHITEHILL
ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES L. WRENN
PUBLISHERS
BARSE & CO.
NEW YORK, N. Y., NEWARK, N. J.
Copyright, 1916 By Barse & Co.
Polly's First Year at Boarding School
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I--THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
CHAPTER II--THE PAPER CHASE
CHAPTER III--THE WELCOME DANCE TO THE NEW GIRLS
CHAPTER IV--THE CHOOSING OF THE TEAMS
CHAPTER V--THE THANKSGIVING PARTY
CHAPTER VI--A RAINY DAY
CHAPTER VII--BETTY'S DUCKING
CHAPTER VIII--CUTTING THE LECTURE
CHAPTER IX--THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS
CHAPTER X--THE VALENTINE PARTY
CHAPTER XI--PRACTICING FOR THE INDOOR MEET
CHAPTER XII--POLLY'S HEROISM
CHAPTER XIII--BETTY'S IDEA
CHAPTER XIV--THE FRESHMEN ENTERTAIN
CHAPTER XV--VISITORS
CHAPTER XVI--GHOSTS
CHAPTER XVII--POLLY INTERVENES
CHAPTER XVIII--WANTED: A MASCOT
CHAPTER XIX--FIELD DAY
CHAPTER XX--THE MUSICAL
CHAPTER XXI--COMMENCEMENT DAY
CHAPTER I--THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
Seddon Hall, situated on top of one of the many hills that lined either
side of the Hudson River, was a scene of hubbub and confusion. It was
the 27th of September and the opening day of school. The girls who had
already arrived were walking arm in arm about the grounds, in the broad
assembly hall, and in the corridors, talking, laughing and discussing
the summer vacation, plans for the winter, the new girls, and a variety
of subjects with fine impartiality.
In the Senior reception room Mrs. Baird, principal of the school, and a
number of the faculty were receiving and assuring the mothers and
guardians of the girls.
Outside the carriages from the 5:04 train were winding up the steep hill
from the station. The girls were waving and calling hellos as they
passed one another, and on the broad piazza there was a quantity of suit
cases, and a good deal of kissing.
Polly Pendleton, seated beside her uncle in one of the last carriages,
was just the least little bit frightened. She had never seen quite so
many girls nor heard quite so much laughing and talking in all her
rather uneventful life.
Polly's real name was Marianna, but her heavy dark hair framed a face so
bright and full of fun, and her big brown eyes had so much impishness in
their depth, that to have called her by anything so long and dignified
seemed absurd, and so she had been Polly all her life.
Until two months before this story opens she had lived her thirteen
years in an old fashioned New England town with her aunt, Hannah
Pendleton, her father's eldest sister, and quite as severe as her name.
It had been a very unexciting existence--school every morning with the
village minister, and a patchwork "stint" every afternoon under the
direction of Aunt Hannah.
Polly was beginning to think every day was going to be just like every
other, when suddenly Aunt Hannah died and she came to New York to live
with Uncle Roddy. It had been a great change to leave the old house and
the village, but under Uncle Roddy's jolly companionship she soon ceased
to miss any part of her old life.
After what seemed an age, the carriage finally reached the top of the
hill, and Polly, holding tight to her uncle's arm, was shown into the
reception-room. She was finding it harder every minute to keep down the
unaccountable lump that had risen in her throat, when Mrs. Baird,
catching sight of them, held out a welcoming hand.
"How do you do, Mr. Pendleton?" she asked. "And is this Marianna? My
dear," she added, putting her hand on Polly's shoulder, "I hope you are
going to be very happy and contented with us."
It was perhaps the fiftieth time Mrs. Baird had made that same remark
that day, but Polly, looking into her kindly blue eyes, felt, as had
every other new girl at Seddon Hall, the complete understanding and
sympathy of the older woman, and felt, too, without knowing why, that
Mrs. Baird had had her first day at boarding-school.
Louise Preston, one of the Seniors, a slender girl of seventeen, with
heaps of taffy-colored hair, big blue eyes, and the sweetest and
jolliest smile, caught her principal's beckoning nod, and coming
forward, was presented. Mrs. Baird suggested that she take Polly and
show her to her room.
As the two girls mounted the broad staircase, Louise linked her arm in
Polly's in a big sisterly fashion, and began the conversation.
"This floor that we're coming to," she explained, "is Study Hall floor;
all those doors are classrooms. This is the Bridge of Sighs," she
continued, stopping before a covered passage which led from one building
to another.
"Why the Bridge of Sighs?" inquired Polly.
They were crossing it as she asked. When they reached the other side,
Louise solemnly pointed to a door on the left.
"That," she explained, "is Miss Hale's room. Miss Hale is the Latin
teacher, and when you know her, you'll understand why this is the Bridge
of Sighs."
"Goodness! let's hurry past if she's as dreadful as all that," laughed
Polly. "What's this long corridor?"
"This is the Hall of Fame or, in other words, the abode of the Senior
class," Louise told her. "Junior and Sophomore corridors are in the
other wing, and Freshman Lane, where you'll be, is just above this on
the next floor. You see the classes are named as they are in college."
"Then who are the little girls I saw downstairs?"
"Those were the younger children; we don't see much of them until
they're Intermediates--that's the class just before the Freshmen," Louise
explained.
"Now we'll find your room."
When they reached the floor above, they were met with a shout of joy as
the girls, who were dashing in and out of one another's rooms, caught
sight of Louise.
"Hello, Louise, how are you? Awfully glad you're back," called some one.
"Why didn't you answer my letter?"
"Don't you realize this is _Miss_ Preston, that we're a dignified Senior
this year, and we mustn't be called Louise?" corrected another laughing
voice.
Then, as they caught sight of Polly, they stopped short. It was Louise
who broke the embarrassed silence by asking:
"Does any one know where Marianna Pendleton's room is?"
At the unfamiliar sound of her real name, Polly looked so puzzled that
she added:
"Your name is Marianna, isn't it?"
"Yes," assented Polly, "but I'll never get used to it. No one has ever
called me anything but Polly."
"Then Polly you shall be; it suits you, and Marianna doesn't."
"How do you do? I'm Betty Thompson. Louise doesn't seem to have the
manners to introduce me."
It was golden-haired, snub-nosed, freckled, little Betty, one of the
most popular of the younger girls, who was speaking. Her timely
impudence made every one laugh, and the ice was broken.
"I stand corrected," murmured Louise, in what was meant to be an abject
voice. "I'll begin introducing you at once. This is Roberta Andrews;
she's in your class. This is Constance Wentworth; we're very proud of
Connie; she plays the piano wonderfully."
"But she talks in her sleep," interrupted Betty.
Everybody laughed at this. It was an old joke that Constance, when in
the Intermediate class the year before, had frightened one of the poor
new teachers almost to death by reciting Lady Macbeth's sleep walking
scene, at twelve o'clock one night.
Polly liked her at once. There was something very beautiful about her
firm mouth, straight nose, high cheek bones, and big, dreamy brown eyes.
"This is Angela Hollywood," Louise continued. "Don't take any stock in
her name, it's deceiving."
Angela, who looked like an old-fashioned painting with her eyes as blue
as the sky, her pink and white cheeks, and her soft ringlets of
golden-brown hair, scowled threateningly.
"Your being a Senior," she drawled, "is all that saves you from my
wrath." Then, turning to Polly, she continued: "Don't let her give you a
wrong impression; you see, she's jealous. I really am quite angelic--"
"Do tell me when that is," demanded a voice from the other end of the
corridor. The girls turned to look and there, standing with suit case
and tennis racket in hand, dressed in a blue Peter Thompson sailor suit,
her tawny-colored hair tied half way down her back with a black ribbon,
her dark eyes dancing with fun, stood Lois Farwell.
Polly, standing to one side as the girls crowded around the newcomer,
realized that in some way she was different from the other girls. The
welcome she was receiving showed her to be a general favorite and much
thought of. When in a few minutes she was shaking hands with her, she
understood. Lois was evidently born to be liked.
The girls rattled on, asking a million questions at once. Louise left
for the society of her own class, and Polly went to her room to unpack
her case.
In a few minutes there was a knock at her door; one of the maids had
come to tell her she was wanted in the reception-room to say good-by to
her uncle. As she started down the corridor she met Lois.
"Where are you going?" questioned the latter. "Anything I can do for
you?"
Polly tried hard to keep back the lump in her throat as she answered:
"I am going to the reception-room; my uncle is leaving."
"Better take me with you," Lois advised. "You'd never find your way
alone."
When Polly reached the reception-room she found Uncle Roddy decidedly
unhappy. He was feeling a responsibility for, perhaps, the first time in
his bachelor life, and he didn't like it.
She said good-by to him, promised to write, and received his hug and
kiss with a choked sensation. Something snapped as the carriage
disappeared down the hill. She realized she was all alone. She would
have given anything to have been able to run after the carriage and beg
him to take her home with him.
The lump in her throat was asserting itself in tears as Lois came back
to find her.
"Come on up to Assembly Hall and meet some of the girls," she suggested,
putting her arm around her shoulder and pretending not to notice the
tears. At this touch of comradeship the lump in Polly's throat, as if by
magic, disappeared.
The rest of the day was a blur to Polly, as it was to all the new girls.
As she lay wide awake in bed until late that night, she tried to form a
clear idea of what had happened.
"I'm quite sure I'm going to like Angela and Connie," she said to
herself. "And I adore Betty; she's such fun. But Lois is the nicest of
all. It was awfully sweet of her to ask me to sit beside her for Mrs.
Baird's welcome talk, and she's promised to take me over the grounds
tomorrow.
"No one talked about anything I didn't understand, either, except
basket-ball, and Betty's promised to teach me how to play that the first
chance she gets."
Then she continued sleepily:
"Every one home used to say I was different from most girls, and Aunt
Hannah said I was a tomboy. But I'm just like all the rest--just an
ordinary girl."
And with a sigh of contentment she snuggled down in her pillows and
dropped off to sleep to dream of the happy year to come.