GLENWOOD
The music-room was on the east side of the hall at its farthest end. As Polly hurried along the hall, she caught sight of a woe-begone figure, and stopped short. The Admiral was waiting for her just beyond the arched entrance to the reception room. From where she stood, she could just see his shoulder, and some iron gray curls which shook a little, so she knew he must be laughing. The Admiral’s curls were always a weathervane of his mood. Polly hesitated, then following her first impulse, she slipped into the library, and put her hand on Crullers’ shoulder. Such an unhappy, moist Crullers, though, very different from the happy-go-lucky, easy-going girl of the past term. She raised a tearful face, and sobbed outright.
“I’m not going back home.”
“You’re not!” Polly checked herself. She was not much given to expostulations. The shortest way around any trouble was straight through the middle, she always held. “Why aren’t you?”
“The children are down with measles, so I’ll have to stay here for weeks, and it spoils my vacation.”
Polly considered. It was not a very joyous outlook. During the long summer vacation, the big gray house was shrouded in darkness, and Miss Calvert usually went to the seashore for a rest.
“Maybe Honoria would take you with her when she goes away,” Polly suggested, but Crullers shook her head dismally.
“No, she won’t. She says she doesn’t want any such responsibility as I would be. I am to be left here with Annie May and Fraulein.”
Polly frowned at such an outlook. Annie May was not so bad. The big-hearted old colored mammy who acted as cook at the Hall was far preferable as a pleasant companion to Fraulein, the teacher of German, with her neuralgia and shaded eyeglasses. Polly had always said that she believed those glasses were the whole reason why Fraulein took such a dismal view of life. Green glasses were enough to turn Harlequin into an undertaker.
“Don’t you mind, Crullers, precious,” she said, patting the round rosy cheek nearest her. “The girls from our own crowd are coming over to Glenwood on Saturday, and you ask Miss Calvert to let you come along with them. I have a plan ahead for the summer, and maybe you could go with us. Who knows? Don’t cry. I never cry except when things are all wrong, and I can’t fix them right. We’ll find a way.”