"We cut one lecture," Polly said with meaning.

"And we promised Mrs. Baird we'd never do it again," Lois finished for her.

Polly whistled softly and reached for her sweater.

"Where are you going?" Betty demanded.

"For a walk, and I don't want any company," Polly replied, going out quietly and shutting the door.

Lois and Betty were too surprised to speak. And when they had recovered sufficiently to go out and follow Polly, it was too late, for Polly had chosen the most unlikely spot for her walk.

At dinner that night, Mrs. Baird announced the lecture. It was received with respectful silence. The rest of the girls were quite as disappointed as Lois and Betty had been-Polly was the only cheerful one at the Freshman table, and Betty whispered to Lois:

"I can't make Polly out; she acts as if she were pleased."

"Poll," Lois appealed direct, "what is the matter with you, do you really think you are going to like this lecture?"

Polly smiled an inscrutable smile-"History is my favorite lesson," she said primly.

After dinner she disappeared. There would be fifteen minutes before the lecture began and she had enough to do to fill each one. She went straight to the power house. Pat was standing in the doorway, his pipe in his mouth, and an expression on his face that boded ill to all lectures.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" Polly greeted him.

Pat looked surprised. "Oh, you're back again. What is it you want to know now?" he asked.

"Nothing much, I just thought it would be fun to see you fix up the connection for the lantern," Polly answered idly.

"Sure, it's all fixed. I'm sorry; had I knowed you was that interested, I'd a waited."

"Oh, pshaw." Polly looked very crestfallen.

"It's an easy matter to show you how it's done, though. Come inside."

After a lengthy and voluble discourse on the one hand, and eager attention on the other, Polly asked:

"So, really, if you just pulled down that switch the lantern wouldn't work up at school?"

"Not till it was turned on again, but why-"

"Pat," Polly interrupted hastily, "don't you think it's time to go up to school? They can't begin without you."

Pat's face fell and he sighed reproachfully.

"There, I suppose you're right; I'll be getting my coat."

"Pat, do you like to work the lantern for lecture?"

"I do not; well, that's not always."

"How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" Pat hesitated, tried to keep his reserve, and then gave it up. "It's like this, Miss, tonight I made plans to go to the village, and so you can see that this lecture coming sudden like, is not, in a manner of speaking, welcome to me."

"Hard luck; I'm sorry," Polly said airily. "It can't be helped, though; I guess we'd better start." They left the power house and had gone about a hundred feet when Polly stopped.

"Gracious, Pat, I've left my Latin book in the power house. I'll have to go back for it. There goes the bell; you'd better hurry."

Professor Irvington Hale mounted the platform in a.s.sembly room at exactly seven-fifteen. He was a young old man with a knotty forehead and very large ears. He wore horn rim gla.s.ses and he carried a black ebony pointer in one hand. Betty described him adequately when she whispered to Lois: "He's an owl."

Lois smothered a giggle and turned to Polly-They were all sitting in the front row. "Two hours of that; O dear."

Polly was occupied in watching Mr. Hale, very closely. She only said: "Oh, cheer up," and kept on watching.

"Good evening, young ladies. I-er-have the pleasure to address you this evening on New England and its historical past-" The professor was already stumbling on his way. After his opening remark he coughed, shifted his feet, and consulted a card that he held in the palm of one hand. "First picture, please," he said rather abruptly.

The lights were turned out promptly, and the girls settled down with a sigh of resignation.

They waited, no picture came; the white curtain waved ghost-like in the dark. The younger girls began to giggle nervously and then some one turned on the light. Mrs. Baird went to the back of the room.

"What's the matter, Pat, is there something wrong with the lantern?"

Pat scratched his head in solemn wonder. "Sure, there should be nothing wrong with it," he said.

"Perhaps the trouble is at the power house," Mrs. Baird suggested. "You better go as quickly as possible and find out. And in the meantime," she continued, returning to the platform, "perhaps Professor Hale will talk to us."

But Professor Hale would not, could not. He had just his lecture, all learned by heart. A picture slipped in at the wrong time would have seriously upset him. He fled from the very idea of attempting to talk against time to this room full of fluttering beribboned young ladies. He refused point-blank-

The school waited restlessly for Pat's return. It was prompt. Mrs. Baird rose as he entered, and there followed a low voiced and very lengthy explanation in which the words "wouldn't happen in a hundred years,"

"short circuit," and "sorry to disappoint the gentleman," entered repeatedly.

Mrs. Baird explained that it would be impossible to fix the lantern that night, and tried again to induce Professor Hale to give a short talk, but to no avail. He departed with the Spartan without another word.

"There will be no lecture tonight, girls," Mrs. Baird announced, "and you may go out as you planned to do. Don't go too far away from the house and be sure and return promptly when you hear the bell." And glancing at the clock she added, smiling: "You haven't lost much time."

It was the merriest of parties that set out a few minutes later for the old fort.

Lois and Betty tried their hardest to find out just how Polly was responsible, for responsible they knew she was, but Polly refused to say anything. Her eyes danced with fun and impishness as she insisted it was really too bad that they'd had to miss the lecture. When the others joined them Lois and Betty dropped the subject. They sang all the school songs, and did a great deal of speculating about the future. Miss Porter told story after story of college.

"It's been the jolliest and at the same time the saddest evening of the whole year," Connie declared, as they hurried home at the first sound of the bell. "Hasn't it, though; it's been so nice just being together. I don't believe we'll any of us ever forget it," Angela agreed.

Polly thought of that remark as she sat up in bed an hour later.

"I know I'll never forget it," she said to her conscience-"It really was a wonderful evening, and it couldn't have been so very wicked for me to turn off that switch. And oh dear, Pat was so funny; I know he was pleased. It was hard for him, though, having to do all the fibbing. I wonder why things you know are wrong seem right sometimes. This was the sort of thing Aunt Hannah would have said 'I'm shocked' about, but when I tell Uncle Roddy he'll only say: 'Good for you, Tiddle de Winks.' It's too much for me, I don't understand," she finished, drowsily. And in a few minutes sleep relieved her of any further need of explanation.

CHAPTER XVIII