“Tell my commanding officer, ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ please, Miss Calvert,” Polly replied, rising at attention.
“Hurry, girls,” cautioned Miss Calvert, with a warning uplift of her finger, as she went back to her guests. Polly hurried.
“Girls,” she whispered, “report for duty Saturday afternoon, at Glenwood, all of you, because if we are going to do this thing, it must be started right away.”
“Oh, Polly,” pleaded Sue, “is it anything where we can have the dear old chafing-dish feasts?”
Polly turned around as she reached the doorway, and swung the pillow-case around her head. Inside it, the chafing dish cover rattled.
“Indeed it is,” she cried. “We’ll need it more than ever. Will you all be sure to come Saturday?”
“Sure,” echoed all of the girls, solemnly. “Polly’s going to hold a launching party all her own.”
Polly laughed, and nodded mysteriously.
“There’ll be something happening besides a big splash if I do,” she said, and hurried out to join the Admiral.