[CHAPTER VIII—CUTTING THE LECTURE]
Polly awoke with a start and bounded out of bed as the rising bell clanged down the corridor.
“I knew it, I knew it; my Latin won’t be finished and the Spartan will be furious,” she exclaimed to the four walls, “but I did intend to get up early. Well, it can’t be helped now; hateful stuff, anyhow.”
For two days the snow had been falling, and the coasting had been perfect. As might be expected, lessons had suffered. The girls would come into study hours flushed with excitement, their blood tingling and their eyes sparkling, and it was only the most studious that could get down to real concentrated work.
It was Friday morning, and a particularly glorious day. The grounds were covered with snow three feet deep, the main hill where the girls coasted had been shoveled out, stamped down, and refrozen until it resembled a broad ribbon of ice with high banks of drifted snow on either side.
The fir trees were weighed down to the ground, icicles hung from the porches of the school building, and the gym looked like an ice palace.
This enticing scene, with sunshine over all,
made Polly look longingly from the corridor window on her way to Latin class, a couple of hours after we left her thinking of her unprepared lesson.
“I wish it were the last period instead of the first,” Lois whispered, catching up with her and linking her arm in hers.
“So do I, for a lot of reasons,” groaned Polly. “In the first place, I haven’t my Latin finished, and in the second, well, it’s a crime to stay indoors on a day like this.”