Chapter Fifteen.
Polly Singleton.
Miss Day was having quite a large party for cocoa in her room. She had invited not only her own chosen friends from Heath Hall, but also two or three congenial spirits from Katharine Hall. Five or six merry-looking girls were now assembled in her room. Miss Day’s room was one of the largest in the college; it was showily furnished, with an intention to produce a Japanese effect. Several paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, and were suspended to wire supports, which were fastened to different articles of furniture.
In honour of Miss Day’s cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and the effect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of colour, was grotesque and almost bizarre.
Miss Day thought her room lovely. It was dazzling, but the reverse of reposeful.
The girls were lounging about, chatting and laughing; they were having a good time, and were absolutely at their case. One, a red-haired girl, with frank, open blue eyes, and a freckled face, an inmate of Katharine Hall, was sending her companions into fits of laughter.
“Yes,” she was saying, in a high, gay voice, “I’m not a bit ashamed of it; there’s never the least use in not owning the truth. I’m used up, girls: I haven’t a penny piece to bless myself with, and this letter came from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he’ll see Miss Eccleston if I don’t pay up. Madame Clarice wrote two nights ago declaring her intention of visiting Miss Eccleston if I didn’t send her some money. I shall have no money until next term. There’s a state of affairs!”
“What do you mean to do, Polly?” asked Lucy Marsh, in a sympathising tone.
“Do? My dear creature, there’s only one thing to be done. I must have an auction on the quiet I shall sell my worldly all. I can buy things again, you know, after dad sends me his next allowance.”