Polly's First Year at Boarding School Part 11

There was nothing apparently in the scene before her to warrant dissatisfaction. The sky showed a cloudless front, the sun was shining with determined cheerfulness over the snow-covered grounds, and the pond was frozen over with smooth mirror-like ice that beckoned invitingly to the most exacting skater.

Her wish of the previous chapter, that the rain would freeze, was certainly fulfilled.

Besides, it was Sat.u.r.day morning, study hour was over, and the rest of the glorious day was free, yet, despite all these blessings, Betty was bored.

Polly and Lois, who were among the laughing group of girls on the ice, separated themselves from the rest and skated over to her.

"What's the matter, Bet, why aren't you skating?" questioned Lois.

Betty pulled off a strip of bark from the tree, broke it up into little pieces and threw them one by one into the pond.

"What's the use?" she answered. "I'm sick to death of going round and round and round again on this silly pond, stumbling every minute over some girl that doesn't know how to skate."

Polly and Lois exchanged glances.

"Why, Betty, you're positively peevish; what side of the bed did you get out of?" Polly laughed.

"Perhaps I am; anyhow, I'm sick of this. Why can't we skate on the river where there's more room?"

"I suppose we could, if we got enough girls together, found a chaperone and got permission," said Lois slowly.

"Oh! but wouldn't that be wonderful!" Polly exclaimed, "let's do it."

Betty brightened up, and looked a little more cheerful at the prospect of a lark.

"Who'll we get to go?" she demanded, now thoroughly alive.

"Angela and Connie."

"They can't skate well enough."

"Never mind, let's ask them."

"Oh, all right, who else?"

"We don't want too many."

"How about Louise?"

"And Florence?"

"Of course, if they'll come."

"That makes seven."

"Isn't that enough?"

"Who for chaperone?"

"Miss Stuart."

"She's sick."

"Miss King then."

"The Infirmary's full, she wouldn't be able to."

"Miss Porter?"

"She's gone to New York with the other teachers, to the opera."

"I forgot, who's left?"

"The Spartan."

"Never!" objected Betty strenuously, "it can't be-why, we'd no sooner get to the river than her feet would be cold, or her nose or her hands, and we'd have to turn back; besides, she doesn't skate."

"All the better," Lois said; "we can build her a nice little fire and make her quite comfy on sh.o.r.e, out of the breeze, and then leave her."

"Now, Bet, don't be so particular, she's our only hope," reminded Polly.

After a good deal of persuasive arguing, Betty finally consented, and they started off to ask the other girls.

They found Angela and Connie coasting on the big hill.

"Wait a second, you two," Betty called to them.

They pulled their sleds off the track into a snow bank and came over to her.

"What do you want?" asked Connie; "isn't the coasting great?"

"Yes, but the skating is better," said Lois, "specially on the river."

"Elucidate," said Angela.

Polly began:

"Well, it's this way," she explained; "Betty's in a fearful mood, the worst possible stage of grouch, nothing suits her. The pond's too small, and she objects to the girls who don't know how to skate as well as she does; she says they're in her way. Well, there's nothing for her but to walk it off. We thought a select, mind, a very select number of girls and a chaperone, and an afternoon on the river, where she'd have plenty of room, might soothe her. Will you and Connie come?"

"With the solemn understanding that if you crack the whip, I don't have to be end man," answered Connie, thinking of the many times she had been sent spinning across the ice.

"I'll go because it's a select party," laughed Angela. "And because I'm tired of this hill. Who else is going?"

"We thought we'd ask Louise and Florence, and perhaps they'll want some of the other Seniors; we had to have some old girls along and they're the nicest," Betty told her.

"Have you got permission?"

"Not yet."