Aunty Welcome’s turbaned head appeared at the side door as the two started away.
“Whar’ you-all gwine to, Mis’ Polly chile?”
“Just up to the Hall, Aunty dear. I won’t be late for dinner, truly. And I’m taking some of your lovely shortcake to Crullers.”
Aunty smiled and shook her head.
“Nevah did see sech a chile for squiggling out of trouble. Yo’ jes’ think yo’ done cotched her safe and sound, and if she ain’t a-dancin’ away, and always leavin’ yo’ feelin’ so good, too. Stoney, you hold that basket steady, boy.”
Polly walked on up the broad, beautiful old street, Stoney in the rear. She had stopped to gather a great bouquet of lilac blossoms, white and purple. Those were for Miss Calvert, and when she reached the Hall, she left Stoney to carry them out into the fragrant old garden, while she went upstairs with her offering for Crullers the unfortunate. Polly was first and last a believer in diplomacy. As the Admiral was fond of remarking, she had inherited that trait from him.
There were two dormitories at Calvert Hall, one where the younger girls slept, the other for the Seniors. But even the dormitories had distinctive features. Each girl had her own cot, chair, washstand, and chiffonier. Around each individual corner were horizontal poles, from which hung long curtains that could be swung back, or enclosed, as the occupant saw fit. This gave privacy to each girl, and yet they were all in the same room.
The curtains hung soberly all about Crullers’ nook this day, just like a yellow and white catafalque. It was too early for the other girls to come upstairs, yet. Polly went softly to the curtains, and called gently.
“Crullers!”
There was no response.