“Goodness! let’s hurry past if she’s as dreadful as all that,” laughed Polly. “What’s this long corridor?”
“This is the Hall of Fame or, in other words, the abode of the Senior class,” Louise told her. “Junior and Sophomore corridors are in the other wing, and Freshman Lane, where you’ll be, is just above this on the next floor. You see the classes are named as they are in college.”
“Then who are the little girls I saw downstairs?”
“Those were the younger children; we don’t see much of them until they’re Intermediates—that’s the class just before the Freshmen,” Louise explained.
“Now we’ll find your room.”
When they reached the floor above, they were met with a shout of joy as the girls, who were dashing in and out of one another’s rooms, caught sight of Louise.
“Hello, Louise, how are you? Awfully glad you’re back,” called some one. “Why didn’t you answer my letter?”
“Don’t you realize this is Miss Preston, that we’re a dignified Senior this year, and we mustn’t
be called Louise?” corrected another laughing voice.
Then, as they caught sight of Polly, they stopped short. It was Louise who broke the embarrassed silence by asking: