History classroom, converted temporarily into a dressing room, was a scene of busy confusion. The Seniors were being “made up” a woman had come from New York especially for the purpose.

It was almost time for the play to begin and everybody was in a hurry. Outside the Assembly Hall was rapidly filling and the murmur of voices penetrated to the dressing room.

“There must be a perfect swarm of visitors,” Betty said. “I know the minute I get on that stage I’ll forget every one of my lines,” she added, as she looked critically at herself in the glass. She was playing the part of Shylock, and her long beard and gray wig disguised her almost beyond recognition.

“Do you think I need some more lines on my face?” she asked Miss Crosby, who was acting as stage manager.

“No, Betty dear, I don’t; I think you’re quite ugly enough,” Miss Crosby answered her. “Are you ready, Polly?”

“No; I’m still struggling with this sash,” Polly answered, coming out from behind a screen dressed as Bassanio.

“I’ll fix it. There!” Miss Crosby tied the refractory sash and then stood off to view the effect. “You make a very gallant and graceful Bassanio,” she said.

“Where’s my Portia?” Polly inquired.

Lois was being “made up”; so she could only laugh in response. She was charming in a full black velvet gown, trimmed with heavy white lace, and her hair was crowned by a cap of pearls.

Angela, in dark green, was no less lovely as Nerissa. Evelin made a dignified Antonio, and Dot Mead a jaunty Gratiano. Helen played the double rôle of Salarino and the Moor, while Dorothy Lansing took The Prince of Arragon and the Gaoler.

On account of the small number of Seniors, all of the lesser characters had been omitted, and the play had been cut down to three acts.

The first the Venetian street scene, where Antonio bargains with Shylock. The second the choosing of the caskets, and the third the courtroom.

Angela, who was industriously shaking powder into her new satin slipper because it hurt, began reciting her lines:

“’Your Father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations ’”

“Do keep still, Ange,” Betty begged; “you’ll get me all mixed up. ’Oh, upright judge a Daniel come prepare ’” she murmured to herself.

Lois in the other corner of the room was chanting: “’The quality of mercy is not strained it droppeth like the gentle dew from Heaven upon the place beneath. It is thrice blest ’ There, I know I’ll get that wrong,” she broke off “it’s ‘twice blest,’ and I always say ‘thrice.’”

“You’re far too generous with your blessings,” Polly laughed. “I feel perfectly sure that I will giggle right out when you say: ’You see me Lord Bassanio as I am ’ you know.”

“Don’t you dare look at me,” Lois warned, “or I’ll laugh, too. Mercy, listen to those people! I’m going to peep.” She opened the door a crack and looked out into the Assembly Hall. She saw Maud and Fanny, who were acting as two of the ushers, seating the new arrivals.

“The hall’s jammed,” she told the girls. “How many guests have you to-night, Dot?” she asked.

“Six! My mother, two girl cousins of mine and three boys.”

“I expect five,” Evelin said. “I hope they’re all here. Did you notice two lanky men, a girl that looks like me, and my mother and father?”

“No, I didn’t,” Lois said; “that is, I can’t recognize them from your description.”

“Wasn’t it a shame your mother couldn’t come, Betty?” Polly said. “But, of course, Dick is here,” she teased.

“No, he’s not,” Lois laughed. “I’d have seen his red head in the crowd if he had been.”

“He’s coming with John Frisby and Ange’s sister and brother-in-law,” Betty said, without paying any attention to Lois’ teasing.

“There’ll be at least twenty couples for the dance,” Polly said. “That means the room won’t look half empty, the way it did last year.”

“I hope there’s enough sherbet,” Evelin said; “boys always eat twice as much as you expect them to.”

“Well, there are cakes enough to feed a whole army,” Dorothy Lansing added. “I know, for I ordered them.”

“The orchestra is here. Oh, bother that buckle! it’s sure to come off,” Helen exclaimed.

“Has the sherbet come, does anybody know?” Angela asked.

“They promised it by six o’clock,” Dot Mead replied; “it’s surely here by now.”

“It’s time for the curtain,” Miss Crosby called, as she came down from the stage, where she had been putting the last finishing touches to the Venetian street. “Are you ready?”

Polly and Angela and Helen jumped up.

“Don’t forget your cue, Betty,” Angela warned, “and don’t you dare make me laugh.”

Miss Crosby gave the signal for the lights to be turned off and a low murmur of anticipation ran through the Assembly Hall as the curtain rose.

Betty’s clever interpretation of Shylock won the applause for the first act.

“Jemima! I’m glad that’s over,” she said as the curtain rang down. “The grease paint is all running down my cheeks. It’s awfully hot up there.”

They heard the audience still applauding.

“Go take a curtain call, Betty,” Miss Crosby called. “All of you, hurry up! Lois, are you and Angela ready for the next act?”

It is hard to say who held the stage during the casket scene. Angela was sweet as Nerissa, and Polly made such a charming lover that she was especially applauded. Lois delighted every one as Portia, but, of course, her real triumph came in the next act.

It is one of the hardest things in the world to recite lines with which your audience is familiar and put sufficient new meaning in them to hold their attention. It is so easy to fall into a sing-song chant, particularly with a long speech. But Lois did it. She gave each word its proper stress and the soft mellow quality of her voice gained her extra praise.

It was a tired, but happily contented cast that took the encore after the final curtain, and the audience were enthusiastic in their applause.

“And now, for the dance,” Polly exclaimed, as they hurried back to the dressing room to change their costumes. “I wish we could go as we are

“Why, Polly, you shock me,” Betty laughed. “I can’t imagine eating sherbet with this beard.”

“They are pushing back the chairs; hear them?” Lois said. “Do hurry, Poll.”

They finished dressing, and joined their party waiting for them in one corner of the room. Jim Thorp and Bob were extravagant in their congratulations.

“I expect that Lo will be starring in less than a year. How many people have called you a born actress, little sister?” he asked.

“Oh, at least a million!” Lois replied; for she was not to be teased.

“How do you like being a man, Polly?” Jim inquired. “You were so dashing and debonair, that I bet every fellow in the room felt big and clumsy in comparison.”

“That pretty girl who played Nerissa was fine. I’d like to meet her,” Bob said, “and you must introduce Jim to Betty; I want him to see her without the beard.”

“All right; come on, and let’s find them; they’ll be together,” Polly suggested as the music started.

“Oh, let’s have one dance first!” Bob said.

After the dance ended, all the girls tried to introduce their friends to one another. It was a little confusing, for all the boys wanted to dance with every girl. Polly was so busy, meeting and dancing with different partners, that she didn’t see Bob again until much later in the evening. He was standing in one corner of the room and he looked very warm.

“Let’s go out,” he suggested. “It’s so awfully hot in here; it’s not against the rules, or anything, is it?” he added, as Polly hesitated.

She laughed. “No, of course not; but I was trying to remember who I had the next dance with,” she said.

“With me,” Bob assured her promptly. “Come on; I have your scarf in my pocket.” They slipped out of one of the long windows at the end of the hall and walked toward the pond.

“Bob, do you realize that this is my last night at Seddon Hall?” Polly said, seriously. Bob nodded. “Yes, to-morrow you get your nice, beribboned diploma, or, I suppose it’s beribboned; is it?”

“Yes!” Polly answered absently.

“Lucky you.”

“Why?”

“To have finished. There’s nothing more thoroughly satisfactory than finishing something,” Bob said, earnestly.

“But some things are too wonderful ever to finish,” Polly objected, looking down at the stars reflected in the pond. “I’m simply broken-hearted at the thought of leaving to-morrow. It’s all been so fine. Why, Bobby, what will life away from Seddon Hall be like?”

“Whatever you make it, I suppose,” Bob said, wisely. Polly was silent for a time.

“Well,” she said at last, “whatever I do, or whatever happens to me, it will never be quite as nice as Seddon Hall.”

“What a happy outlook,” Bob teased. “Polly, you’re indulging in the blues. Stop it!” he commanded.

Polly laughed and gave herself a little shake. “All right! It’s the stars, they always make me sad; come on, let’s go back and dance.”

As they returned they met Betty and Dick. They were hurrying around the corner of the house.

“Whither away?” Polly called, gaily.

“Oh, Poll, the most awful thing has happened!” Betty explained, when they came up to them. “The sherbet didn’t come and all the class are tearing their hair; we’re out looking for it.”

“Better join the expedition,” Dick laughed.

“Betty tells me there are no less than seven back doors to this place, and the sherbet may be melting at any one of them.”

“Oh, Dick, it’s serious!” Betty said, crossly. “Dot Mead called up the caterer and he said it had been delivered,” she explained to Polly.

“A tragedy!” Bob exclaimed. “I must have sherbet; the party will be ruined without it.”

“Of course it will,” Betty answered; “you can’t do just with chicken salad. It’s got to be found. You go that way and we’ll go this. Look at every door, and perhaps we’ll find it.”

They started in opposite directions, but when they met outside of the Assembly Hall a few minutes later the sherbet was still missing.

“I’m going to tell Mrs. Baird,” Betty said; “maybe she can suggest something to do. Dick, you wait here with Polly and Bob. I’ll be right back.”

And she disappeared through the window.

“Do you suppose,” Polly said, suddenly “I have an idea. Come with me, both of you.” She ran down the road, regardless of satin slippers, as far as the gym. “They may have left it here by mistake,” she said to the boys.

Bob ran to the door. “Here it is!” he exclaimed. He pointed to the six buckets packed full of ice.

“What will we do with it?” Dick inquired. “Carry it back to Betty?”

“No; we’ll unpack it here ugh! The ice is all slushy.” She stood back to save her dress.

“We’ll do it,” Bob said. “You look out. Here Dick, dump them.”

“You’ll ruin your clothes,” Polly protested. “Wait and I’ll get some one from the house.”

“Never!” Dick declared, “wait even an instant while this precious stuff melts; I should say not.”

“All right, you unpack it; be careful of the tins, the covers fall off sometimes, and the salt gets in the ice cream,” she warned. “I’ll go find Betty.”

She found her on the Senior porch. She was just coming out with one of the maids.

“We’ve found it!” Polly called to her.

“Jemima! where?” Betty demanded.

“At the gym. The driver must have just dumped it down at the first door he came to. The boys are unpacking it.”

Fifteen minutes later the sherbet, a little melted and, perhaps a trifle salty, was served in glass cups and no one but the agonized Seniors and Dick and Bob knew of the narrow escape.

The rescuing party joined Lois and Jim over in one corner of the room.

“It’s delicious,” Bob said, feelingly. “Jim, did you ever unpack ice cream cans that were completely surrounded by slush?” he asked, casually.

“No!” Jim said, wonderingly. “Why?”

“Didn’t you? You should have.”

“Do it the next warm night when you’re all dressed up.”

“It’s a great way to cool off,” Dick advised.

“What are they talking about, Poll?” Lois demanded.

Polly explained. “It was such a lark watching them!” she concluded, laughing.

“I’m going to write,” Betty began, and then stopped abruptly.

“Write what?” Dick asked.

Betty’s expression changed. “Jemima!” she said slowly; “I was going to say, that the next composition I wrote would be on the Quest of the Missing Sherbet and then I suddenly remembered that I wouldn’t have to write any more. This is our last night,” she added, solemnly.

Polly and Lois looked at her. The smiles faded from their lips, and they ate the rest of the sherbet in silence.