“Miss King, don’t you think I might be carried to the game tonight?” pleaded Polly early Saturday morning as the nurse was bathing her face and hands.

“We’ll see; perhaps we can arrange it if you have no fever,” answered Miss King, and Polly had to be content.

After study hour Lois and Betty flew up to the infirmary.

“Everything’s going beautifully,” announced Lois excitedly, “and we brought you up the green and white ribbons; here, let me tie them on your arm.”

“How’s the ankle? Do you think you can get over to the game?” asked Betty eagerly.

“If I have no fever, Miss King says she’ll see. I hate people to say they will see; Aunt Hannah always did, and it always meant ‘no,’” pouted Polly. “When does the other team arrive?”

“The train’s due at 12:03, luncheon at 12:30, and the game’s called for 2 o’clock,” Lois told her.

Just then Angela and Connie appeared in the doorway.

“May we come in? How’s the invalid?” Connie asked.

“Oh, hello. Of course come in. I’m awfully glad to see you. I am feeling very fine this morning,” responded Polly.

Angela was looking dolefully at the big lump the bandaged foot made under the covers, and her eyes were misty.

“Polly,” she began, “can you ever forgive—”

“Angela, you’re going to say something about those slippers, and if you do—” Polly interrupted threateningly.

“All right, I won’t, but I’ll think of it for the rest of my life.”

After a few minutes of excited conversation the girls left—Lois and Betty for the gym and Angela and Connie for the schoolroom to practice songs with the rest.

Polly, left alone, retied and patted the green and white ribbon Lois had given her; then she tossed and turned and fretted until the doctor arrived an hour later. He declared the ankle greatly improved, but he did not like the patient’s nervous condition, and to Polly’s plea to be carried to the gym, he gave a decided “No.”

Miss King was all sympathy, and offered to read aloud, tell stories, or, in fact, do anything to amuse her heartbroken little patient, but Polly refused to be comforted.

After luncheon Lois and Betty arrived for a last word; they were in their gym suits and Betty’s hands were ice cold. Polly tried to be encouraging and cheerful.

“Do be careful of those lines, Bet,” she advised, “and don’t run with the ball.”

“Run with the ball! I probably won’t have a chance to even get my hands on it let alone run with it. Oh, I tell you, I’m in a sweet funk!” groaned Betty.

“Will you stop talking like that, Betty Thompson,” commanded Lois. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Why, if you can’t play against that insignificant Whitehead center, all my little faith in man is gone.”

“Do tell me something about the other team,” Polly begged. “I heard you giving them the cheer as they arrived. Do they look very dreadful?”

“No, I think we are pretty evenly matched. Their guards are tall—but there goes the bell; we’ll have to fly. Polly, darling, I’ll come and tell you all about it the second the game’s over,” promised Lois, as she and Betty ran down to the schoolroom to join the team.

As Polly lay listening she heard the girls tramping over to the gym. The sound came faintly at first, then louder, and finally halted underneath the infirmary window:

sang fifty voices, and then the tramping started once more and grew fainter as the girls neared the gym.

Poor Polly buried her head in the pillow and sobbed:

“To think of my having a chance to play in the big game and then not being able to! Why, I can’t even watch it!” she cried. “Why didn’t I see those hateful steps?”

Miss King came in and asked if there was anything she could do.

“I am quite at your service,” she assured her.

“Do you really mean that?” answered Polly. “Then go over to the gym and watch the game for a little while and come back and tell me how it’s going, and if we have a chance. I promise to be good,” she added.

Miss King thought it over and decided to go. It would please her unhappy patient, and besides she loved to see a good game herself.

“I won’t stay very long,” she said. “If you want anything you can reach the bell that rings in the other house.”

“Don’t come back unless we are winning,” called Polly as she watched the white nurse’s cap disappear down the long flight of steps that led from the infirmary to the ground. They had been built so that if there were any contagious cases in the infirmary, the girls could reach the grounds without going into any other part of the buildings.

Then, tired from the excitement of the day, she sank back in the pillows to rest until Miss King’s return. She dozed off to sleep for about fifteen minutes, and when she next opened her eyes she was conscious of the smell of smoke.

She raised herself on her elbow and looked out of the dormer window beside her bed. From there she could see the Bridge of Sighs which, as you know, connected the two buildings of the school. A thin spiral of smoke was pouring out from the top of the middle window.

Her first thought was the bell. She rang it violently, but with no success, for the maids were in the laundry gossiping over a cup of tea, and the bell clanged to an empty kitchen.

Something had to be done and Polly realized that that something rested with her. As quickly as her ankle would permit—it was, of course, paining her terribly—she got into such of her clothes as she could find in the infirmary, threw Miss King’s cape around her, and thrust her stockinged feet once again into Angela’s Chinese slippers.

“Now,” she thought, as she limped painfully down the steps, “the thing to do is to get one of the teachers’ attention without letting the girls know anything is wrong.”

The fifty feet to the gym seemed as many miles to Polly. At first the excitement of her errand kept her up, but as she neared the gym the burning pain in her ankle forced her to stop every few feet to rest.

When at last she stumbled up the steps of the gym, she was met at the door by Mrs. Baird and Miss King, who were just leaving.

“Polly, what is it?” gasped both women, hurrying to her side.

“The Bridge of Sighs is on fire—no one answered the bell—I had to come—don’t tell the girls!” And Polly, her message delivered, fainted dead away in Miss King’s arms and was carried back unconscious to the infirmary.

The fire was soon under control. Mrs. Baird called the stablemen, and together with the fire extinguishers it was over almost at once. It had started by two wires crossing and, fortunately, on the bridge. It might easily have spread to both buildings had it not been for Polly’s timely warning. So quietly and quickly had it happened that the girls in the gym knew nothing of it.

When Polly next opened her eyes, Mrs. Baird and Miss King were standing on either side of her bed.

“Is it out?” she asked, turning to Mrs. Baird.

“Yes, dear, it is; thanks to you and your splendid courage,” Mrs. Baird replied, taking her hand in hers and patting it.

“And the game?” demanded Polly, now thoroughly conscious. “Is it over?”

A prolonged shout from the gym answered her question.

“It must be just over,” explained Miss King, “and that shout sounds as if we had won. How is the ankle, dear? Very painful?”

“Yes, it is kind of sore,” Polly admitted, “but I want to know the score,” she insisted.

Mrs. Baird gave her hand a tight squeeze and smiled down at her as she answered:

“I’ll go this minute and find out; they are probably waiting for me to present the cup. I will send you the score at once,” she promised as she left the room.

Seddon Hall had made a hard fight and when the time was up the score on the board was 10 to 8 in their favor. Betty had surprised everybody by her good work. She had not given the other center a chance at the ball and she had made only one foul. Perhaps the thought of Polly waiting anxiously in the infirmary for news of the game had spurred her on. Before the game started she had said to Lois:

“I may be in a blue funk, but won this game shall be, if I have anything to say about it. Polly shan’t be disappointed.”

And Betty had kept her word. She had managed the passes so well that Louise, who at the beginning of the game had been in a fever of apprehension, had almost wept with joy.

As Mrs. Baird entered they were cheering the losing team. With a few well-chosen words of congratulations, she presented the cup to Louise Preston, and finished with a brief account of the fire and the part Polly had played in it.

Useless to try to describe the girls’ enthusiasm; they cheered and cheered. Mrs. Baird dispatched Lois and Betty to tell Polly the score, and the rest of the girls stood under the infirmary window and sang to her until their throats were hoarse.

Betty and Lois, still in their gym suits, sat on the end of her bed and told her all about the game.

“Betty, darling, if you were not so hot and dirty I think I could eat you,” Polly exclaimed. “Think of your making only one little foul. Oh, but I’m proud of you!”

“Well, you see, you told Louise to put me on the team in your place,” Betty explained, “and I had to make good.”

Polly turned to Lois:

“I am awfully sorry you didn’t get a chance to play,” she said.

“I’m kind of glad,” Lois replied. “Now, perhaps, we will both play on Field Day.”

“Here, here, what are you daring to suggest?” demanded Louise Preston from the doorway. She was followed by the rest of the team. They had waited to see the Whitehead girls off and then changed from their gym suits before coming to see the heroine of the day.

“Oh, I was only hoping a couple of you big team girls would give us subs a chance on Field Day. You are dreadfully selfish, you know,” Lois replied.

Polly smiled happily at her captain.

“Well, you did win the game without me, Louise, didn’t you?” she asked.

“How do you make that out?” Florence Guile demanded. “I think you had a pretty big hand in it. If you hadn’t been so plucky and kept so still about the fire, we’d have all been frightened to death and the game never would have been even finished.”

“Florence is right,” agreed everybody. “Three long cheers for plucky Polly!”

“To the victor belongs the spoils,” laughed Louise. When the girls had stopped cheering: “Here’s the cup. I brought it up to show you, and you may keep it as long as you like.”

Polly took it reverently in her hands and looked at it for a long time. Finally she said:

“What a funny day it’s been. Please don’t any one talk any more about the fire. I’m sick of it, and besides it was the game that counted.” Then as she caught sight of Angela among the crowd of girls at the door she said:

“Come here, Angela. I have something to tell you, you must apologize to your slippers; they have atoned for their crime; they carried me safely all the way to the gym.”

Miss King appeared at the door as the girls were laughing at Polly’s remark.

“Is this a reception by any chance?” she inquired. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’ll all have to leave. Polly’s supper is on its way from the kitchen and I’m sure she doesn’t want an audience while she is eating it.”

The girls left after more congratulations and promises to come back the first thing next day, and Polly was left alone to gaze happily at the big silver loving cup which, in a measure, she had helped win for Seddon Hall.