THE WELCOME DANCE TO THE NEW GIRLS
School had opened on Monday and today was Saturday. It had been an
exciting week for everybody getting acquainted and settled, and the time
had flown.
Today was very important, for it was the date set for the old girls'
welcome dance to the new girls. All week there had been whisperings and
talk of it, but none of the new girls really knew anything about it.
Friday afternoon the bulletin board had flaunted a poster of a big
smiling girl, holding out her arms in welcome to a shy little lass with
her finger in her mouth. Mary Williams had painted it, and it was truly
a work of art. On it were the words:
WELCOME DANCE TO THE NEW GIRLS
SATURDAY, AT 8 P. M., IN ASSEMBLY HALL
As Polly sat up in bed and stuffed her fingers in her ears--she hadn't
grown accustomed to the rising bell yet--she suddenly thought what day it
was.
Bouncing out of bed, she slipped into a dressing gown, dashed through
the corridor down a flight of stairs to a long room lined on either side
with doors leading into tiled bathrooms with sunken porcelain tubs. They
had been built only two years, and so magnificent were they after the
old ones, that the girls had christened them The Roman Baths and the
corridor, Roman Alley.
As Polly took the last two steps at a jump, she ran bang into Betty, the
freckled face.
"Whither awa' in such mad haste, and what have I ever done to you that
you should want to see my poor nose any flatter?" asked Betty, carefully
pretending to straighten her nose.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Betty; did I hurt you?" answered Polly. "I was in
such a hurry to get a tub. Some one always beats me, and I've been late
to breakfast twice."
"Why not try my stunt and get up ten minutes before the bell? But you're
all right this morning," and Betty pointed to the row of open doors.
"Turn on the water and then we can talk."
In a minute they were both sitting huddled up on the bottom step, while
the water was splashing into their tubs.
"Know who you're going with tonight?" began Betty.
"No. Do you know who has asked me?" inquired Polly.
She had known all week that on the morning of the dance each new girl
would receive a written invitation from one of the old girls, asking her
to be their guest for the evening.
"Ha, ha," laughed Betty, "don't you wish you knew? Yes, I was there and
I heard you bid for; also I was with her when she put the note in your
desk. I think you'll be pleased."
"Ah, go on, tell me, please," teased Polly.
"Indeed, I will not," Betty exclaimed. "I will tell you that you won't
like Miss Hale any better this time next year than you do now--I will
tell you that we will have pancakes for breakfast--or that tomorrow's
sermon will be very dull, but tell you the name of the girl who is going
to take you tonight, certainly no--"
She stopped short in her dramatic speech as she caught the warning
gurgle that water gives in a tub, just a few seconds before it runs
over.
"Great Cæsar's Ghost! our baths!" she cried, and both girls dashed for
their tubs, and in a minute there came the sound of splashing from
behind the closed doors.
Twenty minutes later they met at breakfast, both a little out of breath,
and true to Betty's prophecy, there were pancakes.
After breakfast on Saturday there was an hour for study, and after that
the girls were free for the rest of the day. Polly could hardly wait to
get to her desk, but of course something had to interfere on this
particular morning.
Just at the entrance to the schoolroom Miss Hale held out a damp,
detaining hand.
"One minute, if you please, Marianna. I want to see you and Angela and
Elizabeth" (she meant Betty, of course), "in my room. Your books have
come and er--"
Her voice trailed off into a murmur as she sailed down the corridor.
Betty said "The dickens" quite distinctly. Angela looked bored but not
rebellious. She shared the other girls' dislike for Miss Hale, but she
adored Latin. As for Polly--well, you can fancy how furious she was.
There was that note in her desk and Miss Hale might keep them for hours.
She wasn't very attentive as the intricacies of Latin grammar were
expounded and explained.
However, it did finally end, though not until fifteen minutes after the
last study hour bell had rung. Polly, followed by Angela and Betty,
started for Study Hall. At the door they ran into a group of girls. Some
of them flourished neatly folded notes.
"What are you going to do this morning, Polly?" asked Dot Mead, who was
one of the group.
"Come on out for a walk with us," chimed in Helen Reeves and Grace
Wright, a long lanky new girl who always agreed with everybody. It may
be seen from this that Polly was popular.
"No you don't. She's going with me to watch the basket-ball practice in
the gym," Betty interrupted before Polly had a chance to answer.
Just then Angela stepped up and put a note in Polly's hand.
"Forgive my freshness in opening your desk without permission," she
said, "but I knew you were crazy to get this, and these wild Indians
would have kept you here till luncheon time."
"Angela, you are angelic. Thank you ever so much." And opening the note
she read the following:
"Dear Polly:
"Please be my guest at the dance tonight and save me numbers one,
three, five, and the last. See you in the corridor after study hour.
"In mad haste,
"Lois."
Polly danced for joy. It was Lois after all, just as she had hoped. She
would have been glad, of course, to have gone with Connie or Angela or
Betty; she knew them all, perhaps, better than Lois, but then it was
easy to know them. It was different with Lois; as often as she had been
with her the past week, she felt there was lots left to discover about
her.
The extra fifteen minutes that Miss Hale had kept the girls in her room
had given Lois time to make her bed, fix her room, and go to the gym.
She had left word with Connie, waiting of course, for Angela, to tell
Polly where she was.
When the trio reached the corridor, Connie called out:
"Polly, if you're looking for Lois, she's in the gym. She told me to
tell you."
And as the girls started for their rooms, she added:
"Don't worry about your beds; I made them."
"You duck," and Betty threw her arms around her neck.
"Yes, you are a duck," agreed Polly. "Thanks awfully."
"Don't be so grateful," called Angela, retiring behind her door for
safety. "She only did it so she wouldn't be kept waiting. And they are
all probably pied."
"Ungrateful wretch," Connie gasped.
Polly and Betty went after their sweaters, and in a few minutes all four
girls were racing for the gym, a low, round building about fifty yards
away from the school.
They found Lois, not in a gym suit, as they had expected, but in sweater
and cap, evidently waiting for them.
"Hello," she called, "what kept you so long, the Spartan?" (A nickname
for Miss Hale.) "Did you get my note?" she continued, turning to Polly.
"Yes, and of course I'm awfully tickled to go with you. You were awfully
good to ask me."
Polly's voice was very earnest.
Lois smiled. "Good, that's settled, and now do you want to go into the
woods and get some greens with me? Florence Guile and Louise Preston
asked me to get some branches for them. They are decorating Assembly
Hall and they told me to take another girl with me. We have permission
to go out of bounds," she explained.
Then to Betty, who was dramatically tearing her hair:
"Don't look so peevish, Bet, dear, if you expect to make the big team
you want to trot on and practice, not wander in the wood."
"Do you know, Lo," Betty answered with a wry smile, "you have the most
discouraging habit of telling the truth just when I don't want to hear
it. I go. Farewell."
She finished, disappearing through one of the French windows that led
into the locker-room.
That long tramp in the woods, on that glorious day, with the fallen
leaves almost knee-deep and the crisp wind in their faces, did more to
establish the lasting friendship between the two girls than anything
else could have done.
Polly, less reticent than Lois, told of her life in the New England
town, of the quaint old house, and lingered over the description of her
many beloved dogs.
Lois, in turn, described her jolly father, who was a well-known
physician, her mother--no one was quite as adorably precious and young as
Lois' mother--and her big brother Bob, just seventeen, who was preparing
for college.
"You see," she finished, "Dad didn't want me to grow up in a city, and
as he has to live in Albany in the winter, he and mother decided I'd
better come here."
"I'm awfully glad they did," Polly replied, giving Lois' arm a tight
squeeze.
Perhaps the quantity of greens was a little smaller than it might have
been, but for these confidences. Still what do greens matter when
compared to the forging of a splendid and lasting friendship?
Even confidences must end, and Polly, looking at her wrist watch, a
parting gift from Uncle Roddy, exclaimed: "Lois, it's after twelve
o'clock. We'll have to fly. I hope you know the way. I'm lost."
They raced back and just had time to scrub their hands and join the end
of the luncheon line.
That afternoon they stayed together as a matter of course. They helped
the Seniors get the Assembly Hall ready for the dance, and before going
to their rooms at dressing hour, they had promised to help serve the ice
cream that evening.
Polly was being treated just like an old girl and it seemed hard for her
to realize that she had only been at Seddon Hall for one short week.
The dance was a great success, which means no one spoiled it by being
homesick, and every one danced all the dances. Ethel Brown and Marjorie
Dean almost upset things at the beginning of the fifth dance by getting
out handkerchiefs and daubing at their eyes. They were sitting at
opposite corners of the room, but didn't think of joining forces.
Lois and Polly, standing near the faculty platform, were just starting
their fifth dance when they caught sight of them, and scented danger.
"Look at those two," Lois groaned as she dropped her hand from Polly's
shoulder.
Polly looked.
"Bother," she said, "I suppose that means good-bye to our dance."
They parted without hesitation. Lois went over to Ethel and Polly to
Marjorie, and as they danced, they listened patiently to a tale of woe,
and tried their best to cheer up their self-enforced partners.
After the sixth dance the ice cream and cake and lemonade were served,
and for the rest of the evening everything went beautifully. The
"good-night bell" rang at ten o'clock, just in the middle of the
Virginia reel, but Mrs. Baird, who was on the platform, beckoned to one
of the Seniors and gave her permission for it to be finished. When the
girls finally did go off to bed, they were all very sleepy and very
happy.
As Polly and Lois were leaving the room, Mrs. Baird stopped them.
"Good-night, girls," she said, "you have been a big help to the Seniors,
but they have no doubt thanked you for that. I want to tell you that I
saw and appreciated your kindness tonight. I am proud of it in you as an
old girl," she said to Lois, and then turning to Polly with one of her
wonderful smiles that made all the girls adore her, she added:
"And I am more proud to find that same spirit in a new girl."
When Lois and Polly said good-night a few minutes later, Polly
whispered:
"Isn't she wonderful?"
"Of course she is," Lois answered, smiling. "I wondered how long it
would be before you found it out."