Tom Latimer outdid himself during the days intervening between John’s wedding and Polly’s sailing. Jim and Ken were back from college, but somehow the two girls who had been such fine young pals out in the Rockies, and on that Coney Island trip, now seemed several years older than these boys. They couldn’t understand it.
Mr. Fabian could have explained the change. It was mostly psychological, due to the advanced mental training his girls had received in their study of a chosen high profession. They truly were far superior, now, to either of the two boys at Yale, although they were not aware of it at the time.
The day for the sailing of the steamer arrived, and a gay party stood on the pier just before the good-bys had to be said. Mrs. Brewster gave Polly many warnings and advices, and Mr. Maynard begged Eleanor not to bankrupt him during her stay in Paris.
Books, flowers, fruit and candy, had been piled up in the arms of Ruth Ashby, Polly and Eleanor, until they could not shake the extended hands of their friends when the time came to really say good-by.
“Never mind your hands, we’ll kiss your faces!” laughed Mr. Maynard, and straightway began kissing the pretty struggling girls.
As everyone in the group was an old friend, each one took toll of the girls’ cheeks, and just as Jim Latimer, the last in the line, caught a swift brush of Ruth’s ear, Tom Latimer strolled up.
“Hello, Tom! Where have you been?” called his father.
“Better get your kiss, Tom, or you’ll be left,” added Jim.
So Tom managed to get his “good-by” from Ruth and from Eleanor, but Polly blushed furiously, and reared her head.
“If another silly man kisses me, I’ll—I’ll—slap him!”