“My dear Miss Peel, pray reserve any little scolding you intend to bestow upon me until we get out into the street, and please do not tread upon my dress!” CHAPTER XV 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 honor of Miss Day’s cocoa, the lanterns were all lit now, and the effect, on fans and pictures and on brilliant bits of color, were 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 ease. 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 pennypiece to bless myself with, and this letter came from Spilman to-night. Spilman says he’ll see Miss Eccleston if I didn’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 sympathizing 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.” “Oh, Polly, but you cannot really mean it!” Miss Marsh, Miss Day and two or three more crowded around Polly Singleton as they spoke. “You can’t mean to have an auction,” began Miss Day; “no one ever heard of such a thing at St. Benet’s. Why, it would be simply disgraceful!” “No, it wouldn’t— don’t turn cross, Annie. I’ll have an auction first and then a great feed in the empty room. I can go on tick for the feed; Jones, the confectioner, knows better than not to oblige me. He’s not like that horrid Spilman and that mean Madame Clarice.” “But, Polly, if you write to your father, he’ll be sure to send you what you want to clear off those two debts. You have often told us he has lots of money.”