in her throat, when Mrs. Baird, catching sight of them, held out a welcoming hand.
“How do you do, Mr. Pendleton?” she asked. “And is this Marianna? My dear,” she added, putting her hand on Polly’s shoulder, “I hope you are going to be very happy and contented with us.”
It was perhaps the fiftieth time Mrs. Baird had made that same remark that day, but Polly, looking into her kindly blue eyes, felt, as had every other new girl at Seddon Hall, the complete understanding and sympathy of the older woman, and felt, too, without knowing why, that Mrs. Baird had had her first day at boarding-school.
Louise Preston, one of the Seniors, a slender girl of seventeen, with heaps of taffy-colored hair, big blue eyes, and the sweetest and jolliest smile, caught her principal’s beckoning nod, and coming forward, was presented. Mrs. Baird suggested that she take Polly and show her to her room.
As the two girls mounted the broad staircase, Louise linked her arm in Polly’s in a big sisterly fashion, and began the conversation.
“This floor that we’re coming to,” she explained, “is Study Hall floor; all those doors are classrooms. This is the Bridge of Sighs,” she continued, stopping before a covered passage which led from one building to another.
“Why the Bridge of Sighs?” inquired Polly.
They were crossing it as she asked. When they
reached the other side, Louise solemnly pointed to a door on the left.
“That,” she explained, “is Miss Hale’s room. Miss Hale is the Latin teacher, and when you know her, you’ll understand why this is the Bridge of Sighs.”