“And the fence-post is badly scarred, believe me, Miss Murray,” said the Admiral.
“I’ll tell the other girls anyway,” Polly declared. “You may expect us after class Monday, if you don’t mind.”
Miss Murray was very certain that she should not mind. Polly never knew how full of expectancy the following Monday was to the teacher from the Crossbar. It had been a lonesome winter there at the Hall amongst strangers, and she did not make friends readily. Several times during class on Monday she met Polly’s glance, and smiled back at her.
“I think we had better tell Miss Calvert, don’t you?” she asked her, when she came from the classroom and found the girls awaiting her in the lower hall. “She might wonder what plot we were hatching up in my room.”
“I have just told her,” Polly answered. “I had my French history to paraphrase, and was a little late handing it in, so I told her we were going to hold a council of state with you over our summer outing, and she said it was all right.”
“Then we can go upstairs. I have some snap-shots of the ranch I want to show you, and some of the children too. And after we talk it over, if it does seem possible, we’ll get down to real business methods, and see just what it will cost, and how you can manage it.”
“It isn’t as hard as last year, because we won’t have to learn how to swim or sail yachts,” Sue said, hopefully. “Isn’t it too bad we are not boys. We might tramp it, or ride on freight trains.”
“Yes, dearies, or fly, or do a cross-country race over the mountains to Wyoming. Anything for novelty and diversion. Sue, sometimes you talk like Crullers.” Ted threw a rebuking look at her chum, but it passed straight by Sue.
“I didn’t mean that so much. I mean that boys always seem to find out a way, or make a way.”
“It only seems that way, Sue,” said Miss Murray, putting one arm around her shoulder. “I have three younger brothers, so I know something about their ways and habits.”