The girls rose too, and stood about her, Sue and Polly with their arms around her neck, and all agreed with the suggestion. Never before had Jean Murray found herself so popular at Calvert.
“We’ll find a way out. Polly always finds one,” said Isabel, hopefully.
“I think I can see the tip end of one even now,” Polly replied, her brown eyes full of suppressed excitement. “Girls, Dr. Penrhyn Smith is going to Wyoming this summer, too, to dig for a—a—oh, what do you call those long, prehistoric things, Ruth. I know, a thesaurus.”
“Dinosaurus, goose,” Ruth corrected. “The other’s a dictionary.”
“Is it? It sounds awfully antediluvian, somehow, as if it had a ten-yard beak, and bird-claw feet, don’t you know? Don’t you get the full force of what I’m trying to tell you? Our Dr. Smith, of Smugglers’ Cove, is going to Wyoming this summer.”
“Polly, you’re looking wise,” laughed Sue. “I know that you see a procession of us girls trotting along after the Doctor, and carrying all his little spades and shovels and things for him, and getting weekly salaries for it to cover all expenses there and back.”
“Just you wait and see,” prophesied Polly, serenely, and not another word would she say that night of her plan.
CHAPTER VII
LAWLESS DEVICES
That night Polly consulted the Admiral. Sitting opposite him in the study after dinner, she went over her plans very carefully.