Sidney's heart gave a tremendous bound. It was most certainly a boarding school! It was the nearest she had ever been to one! She forgot her middy and the hated pigtails, and the dread of the League. She threw open the door. Mrs. Milliken's voice came to her: "He died on April tenth, Nineteen eighteen. He had just written that sonnet to the West Wind. You know it I am sure. He bought this house when he came to Middletown but he made it his as though he'd lived in it all his life--we have left it _exactly_ as it was when he was with us--our committee----" They came walking slowly toward the house, Mrs. Milliken and the strange woman with reverent mien, the wriggling queue still whispering and giggling. CHAPTER III POLA LIFTS A CURTAIN "Where _is_ Isolde?" Mrs. Milliken whispered between her "Note the gracious proportions of this hall" and "Joseph Romley would never allow himself to be crowded with possessions." "She's--she's--" Sidney had a sudden instinct to protect Isolde. "She has--a headache." "I am _so_ sorry that I cannot introduce you to Isolde Romley--the poet's oldest daughter," Mrs. Milliken pitched her voice so that it might reach even to the girls crowding into the front door. "She is a _most_ interesting and delightful and unusual young lady. She was always closely associated with her gifted father and we feel that she is growing to be very like him. _This_--" smiling affectionately at Sidney and allowing a suggestion of apology to creep into her tone, "This is just our little Sidney, the poet's baby-girl. Sidney, lamb, this is Miss Byers of Grace Hall, a boarding school for young ladies and these are her precious charges. They are making a pilgrimage to our beloved shrine--" Sidney, too familiar with Mrs. Milliken's flowery phrases to be embarrassed by them, faced a little frightenedly the eyes that stared curiously at her from above the spotless collars. "We will go right into the study," Mrs. Milliken advised Miss Byers. "We can take the girls in in little groups. As poor Isolde is not here I will tell them some of the precious and personal anecdotes of the great poet. You know we, in Middletown--especially of the League--feel very privileged to have lived so close to him--" Miss Byers briskly marshalled the first eight girls into the small study. The others broke file and crowded into the front room and on to the stairs, some even spilled over into the dining room. They paid not the slightest attention to anything about them. Assured that Miss Byers was out of hearing they burst into excited chatter and laughter. Except for one or two who smiled shyly at her they did not even notice Sidney.