The next morning Polly stayed in bed for breakfast, as befitted a heroine, and received visitors. All the faculty came in, one after the other, to congratulate her. Miss Crosby's ability as a story-teller had served to picture the events of the night before in vivid colors, and Polly's splendid courage had not lost in the telling.

Lois and Betty kept watch at the door, and admitted only the girls that they knew Polly would want to see. They were not many, for she had a headache and was thoroughly tired. When the bell rang for study hour, they left Connie with her.

"Sit down and make yourself comfy. Here's a pillow." Polly threw one of Lois' to the foot of the bed, and Connie stuffed it behind her back.

"It's perfectly silly, my lying in bed like this," Polly went on, yawning and stretching luxuriously, "but Mrs. Baird insisted."

"I should think so. You must be nearly dead." Connie looked at her, wondering.

"Honestly, Poll, you were wonderful. How did you think of that hill, and have sense enough to go up it?"

Polly buried her head in the pillows and groaned.

"Not you too, Connie?" she asked, tragically. "Do I have to explain again that I was brought up with horses and have driven all my life, and been in any number of runaways, so that I am not afraid of any horse that lives? There, now, I've told you, and if you mention last night again, I'll ask Miss King to pull you out of my room by the hair of your head."

"I won't, I won't, on my oath!" Connie promised, laughing. "I'll even contradict all these people who are calling you a brave heroine, if you say so."

"I wish you would," Polly said, crossly. "Heroine! how perfectly silly."

"Of course it is, now that I come to think of it. You didn't do anything so great," Connie teased, "just stopped a couple of wildly running horses, and saved fifteen girls from sudden death—and what's that? A mere nothing."

"Connie, I'll—" Polly threatened, sitting up in bed, but Connie pushed her back. "You'll behave like a good child and answer me some questions."

"Well, go ahead and ask them."

"First, what's wrong with Dot Mead? I heard her say to one of the girls: 'Polly's bravery is so awfully evident, that it almost looks like showing off,' and when Dorothy Lansing said: 'I think so, too,' I simply couldn't help laughing. It was so like the Dorothys."

"Who were they talking to?" Polly asked, indifferently.

Connie smiled at a sudden recollection.

"A girl named Eleanor Trent. She was furious. She told them they were jealous cats. Imagine!"

Polly smiled grimly. "Eleanor Trent is on my team; she naturally would resent it. Hasn't Ange told you about the fuss yesterday, with the Dorothys?"

"No; what happened!" Connie was interested immediately. She felt this was a personal matter of her class. For the minute, she completely forgot she was only a visitor.

Polly described the scene on the hill—

"Three cheers for Betty!" Connie laughed, heartily. "I can just imagine her rage. But what is the matter with this Fanny!" she asked.

"Nobody knows." Polly shook her head. "We hurt her feelings early in the year, and I don't think she's ever forgiven us. I'm sorry, too; she's a dandy girl, if she'd only forget the chip on her shoulder."

"Going with the Dorothys won't help," Connie said, slowly.

"I know, but what can we do? Warn her that too much association with our classmates will not improve her disposition?" Polly unthinkingly imitated Miss Hale's manner.

"The Spartan," Connie laughed. "You might take Fanny up yourselves," she suggested.

"We might," Polly said, thoughtfully; "oh, there's the bell!"

Study hour was over, and a minute later, Lois, Betty, and Angela came in. There was an air of mystery about them, and Betty said: "Then you'll attend to it, Lo?"

"No; Miss Crosby's going to. I've just come from the studio," Lois answered, as she walked over to her bureau.

"Attend to what?" Polly demanded.

"Nothing!" Angela assured her. "Lo and Betty are fussing over some art secret."

"Oh, well, what's the news?"

"News?" Betty said, wearily. "Why, haven't you heard? Last night a girl hero stopped two rearing, plunging—"

"Betty, if you say one word more," Polly protested feebly—she was laughing in spite of herself.

"Hello, what's this?" Lois had been straightening Polly's dresser and discovered a note beside the pin cushion. "It's for you, Poll." She tossed it on the bed. "Must have been here since last night."

Polly opened and read it.

"Oh, what next?" she groaned. "Listen to this: 'To the captain of the basket ball team,' she read, 'I wish to say that I resign from your team to-day. Signed, Fanny Gerard.'"

"Why, she's crazy," Betty said, with indignation.

"That's the dear Dorothys," Angela remarked, airily. They were all discussing the note at once, when a tap sounded on the door.

"Go see who it is, Lo. I don't want to see any one else this morning," Polly protested.

Lois went to the door. They heard Jane's excited voice in the corridor.

"Please let us see Polly," she asked. "We won't stay a second."

"And we won't talk about last night," Phylis' voice joined in. "We've something awfully important to tell her and you."

Lois looked inquiringly at Polly and the other girls.

"Oh, let them in," Polly said, good naturedly. "Hello, you two, what's the secret?" she greeted them.

They came over to the bed. They were very much embarrassed by the presence of the others.

"You're not awfully sick, are you, Polly?" Phylis asked, real distress in her voice.

"Bless your heart, no," Polly assured her. "I'm just being lazy; I'll be up for luncheon."

"Tell us the something important," Lois said, pulling Jane down beside her on the window box.

Jane looked at Angela and Connie.

"Oh, never mind them," Lois said, understanding her hesitation. "What is it?"

"Well," Jane began, desperately, "I've got to tell you first—that Phylis and I were not very nice—"

"We listened behind a door," Phylis confessed, calmly; "we just had to."

"We were in Eleanor Trent's room," Jane took up the story again. "You see, yesterday she borrowed my gym shoes, and I went down to her room to get them. Well, you know her room is next to Fanny Gerard's, and just as we were coming out, we heard some one crying—"

"Fanny doesn't like us much," Phylis went on, "but we stopped to listen, and we heard Dorothy Mead say:

"'Well, don't be a baby about it. Of course, if you want to have Polly boss you, you can, and Fanny—'"

"No, then Dorothy Lansing said, 'you'd only have to coast down the hill once, to show her you wouldn't let her,'" Jane interrupted.

"Fanny was crying and saying she wanted to go home, and that she wouldn't ever speak to anybody again. We left them, and— Well, we thought we'd better tell you." Phylis ended the tale and looked at Polly.

"Poor Fanny," Polly sighed, "she's not very happy. The Dorothys shouldn't talk that way, of course, but it's not very important. Thanks for telling me, though. Don't listen any more. Fanny wouldn't like it." She treated the whole thing so lightly that both the younger girls thought they had attached more importance to the affair than was necessary. After they left, however, Polly sprang out of bed.

"Something must be done," she declared. Betty ground her teeth. "Jemima! I'd like to give both those Dorothys a ticket to the Fiji Islands," she said angrily. "They're spoiling our class."

"What about Fanny!" Lois inquired. "She's the one; evidently she's miserable, and look at that note."

Polly got back into bed.

"Everybody get out!" she ordered. "And, Bet, go find Fanny and ask her to come here. I'm going to talk to her. She's got some foolish idea in her head about us, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"What about the Dorothys?" Angela inquired, lazily. "Don't tire yourself out, Poll, they're not worth it."

"Oh, the Dorothys don't matter. They'll come around in time if we're nice to them. Of course, my being a heroine for the present won't help any," Polly said, with a grimace.

The interview with Fanny straightened everything out. Polly's surmise had been correct. Fanny was harboring the idea that, because Polly and Lois and Betty did not keep any love letters, they must, of course, consider her vain and foolish for doing it.

"I just know you all don't like me," she said, mournfully.

"Oh, Fanny, how silly you are." Polly laughed at her. "We did like you, and still do; you're loads of fun; you play basket ball wonderfully. You've no idea what a chance you have to be popular," she said, earnestly. "If you only wouldn't think everybody was trying to hurt your feelings. We really want to be friends."

It was a new experience for Polly to plead for friendship, but she did it, sincerely, and Fanny gave in. Lois and Betty joined them and a lasting peace was proclaimed.

Maud arrived in the afternoon. Mrs. Banks came with her, but acting under Mrs. Baird's advice, she did not spend the night. Lois and Betty and Polly took charge of them both for the afternoon. They showed them the school and grounds and, after Mrs. Banks left, they introduced Maud to all the girls.

Maud met them with a calm indifference, and looked them over with appraising eyes. Those she liked, she talked to. The others she ignored. The three girls were completely baffled.

"What'll we do with her?" Betty demanded. "Does she always act like this?" They were in the Assembly Hall before dinner. "Do you see anybody you'd like to meet?" she asked Maud a few minutes later.

"No, I don't," came the answer, without hesitation.

Lois laughed right out.

"Maud, you're too funny for words. Tell us what do you think of Seddon Hall?"

Maud gazed at her steadily for a moment.

"Oh, I like it no end," she said, warmly. "Why?"

"Nothing," Polly hastened to say, "we just thought perhaps you didn't."

The bell rang for dinner.

"You go down with your table," Lois explained. "You can do what you like, after dinner. We have a lecture to-night but it doesn't begin until eight."

Little did any of them guess how literally Maud would take Lois' words.

After dinner the Seniors were detained by Mrs. Baird to meet the lecturer and see that the Assembly Hall was in order. This took up their time.

The lecture was already on its way when Polly suddenly nudged Lois: "Lo, Maud is not here," she said in an agonized whisper, "what'll we do?"

Lois looked carefully all over the hall. Maud was nowhere in sight. "She's probably in her room," she whispered back.

They sat in nervous silence. The lecturer paused in his discourse for a minute.

"If I had a buttonhook and a piece of string," he said, turning to Mrs. Baird, "I could demonstrate what I mean."

Polly jumped from her seat, caught Mrs. Baird's eye, before any one else, and, in obedience to her nod, left the room.

She hurried over the Bridge of Sighs, for she hoped to get the articles required, and discover Maud without being absent from Assembly Hall too long. The sound of splashing made her stop and listen half way down the corridor. Some one was apparently taking a bath in the faculty tubs. She thought for a minute, and remembered all the teachers were on the platform. A horrible fear entered her mind. A second later the bark of a dog, followed by a low growl, crystallized the fear to a dreadful certainty.

She pushed open the door. Maud, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, was kneeling beside the tub scrubbing a little wiry-haired yellow puppy, who was protesting vigorously.

Polly looked for a full minute, then she closed the door, and hurried over to her room.

When she got back to her seat, Lois whispered:

"See anything of Maud?"

"She's giving a dog a bath in the faculty's corridor," Polly answered, struggling to keep back the laughter.

"Poll!" Lois' jaw dropped, "I don't believe it," she said.

Polly knew that all the teachers would go to the reception hall for coffee before going back to their rooms. So the minute the lecture was over she called Betty and Lois. "Come with me, quick," she said, hurriedly, and led them back to the faculty corridor. The splashing had stopped. She opened the door.

"Jemima! What under the sun—" Betty and Lois could hardly believe their eyes.

Maud was still on her knees, but the dog was out of the tub; he stood shivering on the blue mat, while she rubbed him vigorously with a towel. She was not at all surprised to see the girls.

"Isn't he an old dear?" she asked, casually. "I found him out by the stables to-night when I was taking a walk. He needed a scrub most awfully."

Polly started to explain, thought better of it, and turned to Betty. The events that followed were swift and purposeful.

Betty washed out the tub, while Lois mopped up the water that the dog had splashed on the floor.

Polly took the astonished Maud with one arm and the very wet puppy under the other and hurried them, by way of the kitchen, into the furnace room.

"You can't have him in your room, you know," she said by way of explanation. "We'll tie him up here for to-night, where he'll be warm, and I'll get him some milk. You go up to your room as fast as you can. The bell has rung and you're supposed to go to bed right away. Can you find your way?"

Maud's brows drew together in a puzzled frown, but she didn't protest.

"Yes, of course," she said, wonderingly. "Good night, pup; I'll see you in the morning."

"Better hurry," Polly warned. "Good night."

"Good night," Maud said, cheerfully, as she went upstairs.

Polly followed her after she had found some food for the dog.

Betty and Lois were already in her room. Betty was stifling roars of laughter in one of Lois' pillows, and Lois was dabbing at her eyes and babbling foolishly.

Polly, the second the door was closed, threw herself down on her bed and gave vent to all the pent up mirth within her.

Finally Betty sat up.

"Oh, Lordy!" she choked; "how rare, how perfectly, gloriously, joyously rare. Think of Maud scrubbing a yellow pup in the faculty's private bath, and the Spartan liable to come in any minute. What a treat? Oh, Maud! I welcome you."