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.