“Is there a Pola Somebody there?” she asked, hopefully. Mrs. Milliken’s finger ran back up the page.
“No—not that I can find. The girls were very careless—not half of them registered.”
Of course Pola wouldn’t have registered—she had been too bored.
Her survey finished, Mrs. Milliken put the register in its place and regarded Sidney with contemplative eyes.
“Another time, dear lamb, if you receive, tell Isolde to—well, fix you up a little. I must speak to the Committee and plan something suitable for you. Perhaps we have been forgetting that our dear little girl is growing out of her rompers. Oh—and another thing, tell Isolde I was shocked to smell gasoline on your gifted father’s jacket—”
“Trude thought it had moths in it and she soaked it in gasoline,” explained Sidney uncomfortably.
“Oh, she mustn’t do it again. It—it spoiled the atmosphere of everything! I will speak to the dear girls. Give my love to Isolde and tell her to rest. I do not think anyone else will come today for I posted a notice at the clubrooms reserving this date for Grace School.”
With an affectionate leave-taking of her “lamb” Mrs. Milliken rustled off. Sidney slowly shut the door. Out there, beyond the hedge, went Pola and the other laughing girls of Grace Hall, out into a world of fun and adventure. And inside the door—
Pola had dared race off to the corner drug store; Sidney felt certain Pola would dare anything. And she had not even had spunk enough to speak up and tell interfering Mrs. Milliken that Trude and the rest of them would soak everything in gasoline, if they wanted to! Most certainly they were not going to let moths eat them all up alive!
Oh—oh, it was hateful! And Isolde had said they could not escape it; well, she’d find a way!