xclaimed Tubby. 'If he'd only known stenography how much better
off he'd been.'

"'Ahem! how do you prove that, Mr. Blaisdell?' inquired the professor,
quite amazed.

"'Why, we took that as a lesson in the shorthand class of the Commercial
Department last spring,' said Tubby, 'and some of the real good ones
could do Gray's Elegy, from dictation, in seven minutes. See what Gray
would have saved if he'd known shorthand!'

"And that completely shut up the professor," said Ferd, as the laughter
broke out. "He hasn't recovered from the shock yet."

The _Happy Day_ was turned toward the Forge first, skirting the
shore all the way. That brought them, of course, close to Jarley's
Landing. Polly was just pushing out in a little skiff.

Wyn and Frank waved to her; but the other girls did not know her, of
course, and only watched the boatman's daughter curiously.

"How well she rows!" exclaimed Percy.

"Say! but she's a fine looking girl," said Dave, earnestly. "What
handsome arms she's got."

"Handsome is as handsome does," remarked Bess, snappishly.

"She's as brown as an Indian," observed Mina.

"That doesn't hurt her," declared Dave, stoutly. "Is _she_ the girl
you were speaking about, Wyn?"

"She is Polly Jarley, and she is my friend," responded Wynifred,
quietly. "And I believe her to be as good as she is beautiful."

"Then there are wings sprouting under her blouse," laughed Frank; "for
there's no girl _I_ ever saw who could hold a candle to Polly for
right down beauty."

"She looks so sad," said Mina, softly.

"Why shouldn't she be sad?" Wyn demanded, "with everybody talking about
her father the way they do?"

"Come, girls!" commanded Mrs. Havel. "Don't gossip. Find some other
topic of conversation."

"Ha! quite so," cried Frank, with a grimace upon her own homely face. "A
girl may be as pretty as a picture and spoil it all by an ugly frame of
mind. How's _that_ for a spark thrown from the wheel?"

"Stand back, audience!" exclaimed Dave. "Something like that is likely
to happen any minute."

"I don't really see how the old professor gets on with you boys at all,"
remarked Bessie Lavine, with a sigh. "You'd worry the life out of an
angel."

"But Professor Skillings is _not_ an angel--thanks be!" exclaimed
Dave.

"He's a good old scout!" drawled Tubby.

"He just hasn't forgotten what it is to be a boy," began Ferd.

"But, goodness me!" cried Frankie. "He's forgotten about everything
else, at som