Lois bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, waving a yellow telegram in the air and shrieking: “Polly!” at the top of her lungs. Not finding her friend in the corridor, she started for the gym, and discovered her there vigorously bouncing the basket-ball.

“Polly, come here quick,” she cried; “I’ve just had a wire from Dad saying he, mother and Bob are coming up here this afternoon.”

Polly tucked the ball under one arm and put the other on Lois’ shoulder.

“Are they really?” she asked delightedly. “What time?”

“The wire doesn’t tell, just says, this afternoon. They may be here any minute.” Then rubbing her cheek against Polly’s she added, coaxingly:

“You’ll help me entertain them won’t you, Poll, and stay with us all the time they’re here? Promise.”

Polly made a wild attempt to throw the ball in the basket, half way across the room as she answered:

“Of course I will, what do you want me to do?”

“Hurry and get out of your suit first,” said Lois. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Baird about the trains.”

Polly hurried to her room to change, and was just tying her sailor tie, when Lois knocked at the door.

“They can’t get here until three thirty,” she announced. “So there’s loads of time.”

Polly had almost completed her dressing.

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked, giving a vigorous, last brush to her wavy hair and straightening her bows.

“They’ve seen the grounds, haven’t they?”

“Bob never has,” Lois answered. Then, after a minute of thoughtful silence:

“Polly, what are we going to do with them? Mother and Father are all right but Bob’s sure to do something awful, he’s such a tease.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” laughed Polly; “if the worst comes to the worst, you can take him out of bounds.”

In spite of this suggestion, Lois’ brows remained puckered and her expression worried. She was not thinking so much about how to amuse Bob. She was wondering how, now that these two were at last to meet, they would like each other. Suppose they didn’t like each other at all! Dreadful thought; Polly might think Bob too grown up and quiet, and Bob might think her “a silly girl.” Lois looked forlorn when she contemplated such an outcome to this meeting.

She still wore a puzzled expression as she waited on the steps a little later, watching for the first sign of the Station Carriage. At three o’clock it came in sight around the first bend of the road. When it reached the porte-cochÈre, her father was the first to get out and he almost smothered Lois in his big hug.

Big, was the word that described Dr. Farwell, everything about him was big. His broad shoulders, his well shaped hands, his kindly deep set blue eyes, even his voice, which appeared to come from his boots as he asked:

“How is this little daughter of mine?”

“Oh, Daddie, dear, I’m so glad to see you. I’m perfectly fine,” Lois answered excitedly and then turned to greet her mother.

“Darling Lois,” Mrs. Farwell whispered, kissing her, and:

“Sweetheart mother,” Lois whispered back. That was all. Mother and daughter understood each other so well, that there was no need for words.

“Well, don’t I get even a how d’ye do?” demanded a laughing voice. And a big hand fell on Lois’ shoulder.

“Why, Bobbie—but of course you do, I’m so glad to see you, I could eat you up,” she cried.

“Eat this instead, won’t you?” said Bob, producing a big white cardboard box. “It’s a chocolate cake—it won’t be quite so tough. Heppy made it for you, and she said she ‘sho’ did hope her baby chile would like it.’”

“Bless Heppy’s heart, she’s a darling, give me the box, you’re sure to drop it.”

“I like that, after I’ve carried it all the way here. I’ve a good mind to feed it to the horse,” Bob threatened.

“Hadn’t you better take us to the reception-room, dear?” Mrs. Farwell reminded. “We want to say how do you do to Mrs. Baird.”

Lois led, dancing every step of the way. At the door of the room she pointed to a cozy group of chairs in the corner. “You wait here,” she said, “and I’ll go tell her; she’s always in her office at this time.”

“Thank you, dear, and oh, can’t we meet Polly?” asked her mother and Dr. Farwell added:

“Yes, of course we must meet Roddy’s niece.”

Lois called back, “I’ll get her first, I have Mrs. Baird’s permission.” And disappeared down the corridor. On reaching Freshman Lane she knocked at Polly’s door.

“Polly, they’re here, hurry up.”

“Wait a minute, I’m changing my shoes,” Polly answered.

But she did not add, for the fourth time:

“Whatever for?”

“Oh, my others needed a shine.”

“Well, hurry up, do. When you’re ready come down to the reception hall. I’ll meet you.”

And Lois was off again, but instead of returning to her family, she suddenly remembered Mrs. Baird, and went off in search of her.

When Polly reached the reception-room, after deciding the weighty question of shoes, she found Bobbie, all six feet of him, blocking the doorway.

He was standing with his hands behind him, his head thrown back, and his eyes fixed intently on a colored print of Venice that hung to the right of the door.

Dr. Farwell was hidden by the piano. Farther back in the room Mrs. Farwell was looking out of the window and smiling. She had thrown back her dark brown feather boa, that so nearly matched her eyes, and Polly could see a waterfall of soft cream lace at her neck; her hands were in her lap, and she tapped the floor with one ridiculously tiny foot.

As Polly slowly approached the door she thought, wistfully, “What a darling to have for a mother,” and then, “how under the sun will I ever get past Bob. Well, I’m here now and I can’t run.” And taking her courage in both hands, she walked the rest of the way to the door, and after a nervous little cough, said:

“I beg your pardon.”

Bob, startled from his reverie, turned, and seeing her, jumped to one side.

“Oh, I’m sorry! excuse me, I—” In his confusion he backed into the piano stool and sat down suddenly without meaning to.

At the sound, Doctor and Mrs. Farwell both looked up, and the Doctor said:

“Why, Bob, what—?” and then laughed.

Mrs. Farwell took in the situation at a glance, and went over to Polly, who was blushing violently, with outstretched hand.

“I’m sure you must be Polly,” she said. “Lois has written me so much about you, that I know I can’t be mistaken.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Farwell?” Polly answered shyly. “I am Polly. Lois said to come down, that she’d be here.”

“She’s looking for Mrs. Baird,” Mrs. Farwell explained.

“Do let me present my husband to you.”

“So this is Polly?” said the Doctor. “I am delighted to see you, my dear. I used to know Roddy well. You and he were so good to Lois Christmas vacation that I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“And this is my son, Bob,” Mrs. Farwell continued, without giving Polly a chance to reply.

Bob held out a big hand,

“How do you do Miss Pendleton?”

“How do you do, Mr. Farwell?”

They said together, and then both fell into a confused silence.

Fortunately, Lois entered at that moment.

“Oh, there you are, Polly,” she said. “Mrs. Baird will be here right away, mother. You and Dad stay here and talk to her, and Polly and I will take Bob for a walk, and show him the grounds.”

The two girls ran up stairs for their sweaters, and in a jiffy they were leading Bob towards the gym.

At first, Lois did most of the talking, for Polly and Bob were very quiet.

The one was thinking: “If Lo had been there I would not have been so embarrassed.”

And the other: “Of all the brilliant ways of meeting a girl, falling over a chair is the best! I am the Clumsiest, etc., etc.”

But as they entered the gym Polly forgot her shyness, and as she rattled on about basket-ball and the coming Field Day, Bob was able to console his injured pride with the thought that after all, she was only one of his kid sister’s friends.

In the course of their walk, which led them past all the landmarks in the grounds, they talked to each other with the ease of old friends, and Bob had started to tease.

“Lois says you play basket-ball wonderfully,” he said to Polly, as they tramped through the woods on their way to the old fort.

“I don’t play half as well as she does,” she answered. “Besides, she knows nothing about it; I’ve never played in a big game. Perhaps if I did, I’d lose my nerve.”

“You almost played once,” Lois reminded her.

“What happened?”

“I sprained my ankle instead.”

“Oh, was that the time you were so plucky about giving the fire alarm? That was great; Lo wrote me about it.”

“What else could I have done? I couldn’t very well let the place burn down, could I?” Polly asked, smiling a little self-consciously.

“I suppose not,” Bob said aloud. Adding to himself, “For a girl as young as she is, she’s remarkably sensible.”

They walked on in silence, taking long swinging strides.

The thump, thump of their footsteps echoed and reËchoed in the silent woods. They reached the top of Fort Hill and stopped for a minute to get their breath. The wind blew the girls’ hair about their flushed faces and sent eddies of last fall’s brown leaves swirling along the path before them.

Across the Hudson the sun was already half hidden by the hills. Below them the old stone fort sprawled half way down the steep slope that led to the river.

Bob’s eyes rested on it inquiringly—“Hello, what have we here?” he asked.

“That’s the old fort, built in the Revolution by the Americans to defend themselves against the attacking British,” Lois recited, in a sing song voice. “It is said that at the brook we just crossed General George Washington once watered his horse while the founder of Seddon Hall held the bridle,” she continued, smiling mischievously at her brother.

It was the tale that was told to all the new girls at school and there were always a few who believed it.

Bob laughed heartily.

“Come, Sis, that’s too much, but you told it well. Why don’t you add that Washington and his staff made the reception-room their headquarters?”

“I will the next time I tell it,” Lois chuckled, pleased at the idea.

Polly had wandered off a little way down the slope, presently she called:

“Lo, do you remember the first time we came out here?”

“Yes, of course I do; we were getting greens for the Seniors. We talked so much we were nearly late for luncheon.”

“Doesn’t it seem ages ago? By the way, what time is it?”

Bob pulled out his watch.

“It’s five, ten,” he said.

“It’s fate,” exclaimed Polly; “we are always late when we come to the fort.”

“Poor Mother and Dad, we’ll have to hustle,” said Lois.

They looked regretfully at the wonderful orange sky, turned, and with the wind at their backs, started off in the direction of the school.

Half an hour later, breathless from hurrying, they entered the reception-room and found Dr. and Mrs. Farwell still talking to Mrs. Baird, and lingering over the remains of their tea.

“Enjoyed your walk?” asked Mrs. Farwell.

“We’ve had such a cozy tea party that we haven’t had time to miss you,” the Doctor added.

Mrs. Baird acknowledged the compliment with a smile.

“If the girls are to go out to dinner,” she said, “I think they had better go upstairs and dress: it’s almost six o’clock.”

“Are we going out to dinner?” exclaimed Lois.

“Yes, both of you,” replied Mrs. Farwell; “so hurry up.”

“Thank you so much, it’s ever so kind of you to ask me, too,” said Polly, suddenly mindful of Aunt Hannah and her instructions in manners, then, as suddenly forgetting them:

“What a lark, we’ll be ready in a jiffy,” and catching Lois by the arm she dragged her up stairs.

The Village hotel, under Dr. Farwell’s insistent demands, produced a passably good dinner. Every one was in such high spirits that the time flew by.

“Isn’t it funny,” laughed Lois, as they delayed finishing their cream and cake, “to be having dinner here with my family? Last time it was with Uncle Roddy.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” agreed Polly. “I wonder what happened to the parrot?”

The waiter, who was passing the coffee, heard the question and said sadly:

“He died a month ago, Miss—of a cold in his head. We miss him sore,” he added dolefully.

“What a shame!” exclaimed Polly and Lois together.

“I’ll have to write Uncle Roddy and tell him,” and Polly tried hard not to look amused.

The waiter looked grateful and after a polite “Thank you, Miss,” left the room solemnly shaking his head.

The trouble with a good time is that there is always an end in sight. We often don’t look for it, and then pretend it’s not there. But we’re sure to find it sooner or later lurking around the corner somewhere.

The end of this particular good time took the shape of the train to Albany, and the accusing hands of the hotel clock warned the Farwells of its near approach.

They saw the girls back to Seddon Hall and after repeated good-bys, drove off down the hill.

Polly and Lois watched the lamp on the carriage until it disappeared around a bend in the road.

“All over,” sighed Lois, unwillingly coming back to earth. “And we missed study hour, and there’s a Latin test tomorrow.”

“Oh, bother Latin, we can get up early in the morning and cram. Lo, your mother and father are the dearest people I ever met. I mean it, truly,” said Polly.

Lois looked at her intently. They were on the porch and it was dark—

“Don’t you like Bob a little tiny bit, too?” she asked mischievously.

And Polly answered with provoking indifference:

“Why, of course.”