ll on the verge of tears."

"Let's cheer for her," some one suggested. "Maybe we'll get our courage
back."

They gave it--a long, long one--that had in it all their admiration and
gratitude. And every poor tired muscle in Polly's valiant little body
throbbed with joy at the sound.

CHAPTER IX

A STARTLING DISCOVERY

The next morning Polly stayed in bed for breakfast, as befitted a
heroine, and received visitors. All the faculty came in, one after the
other, to congratulate her. Miss Crosby's ability as a story-teller had
served to picture the events of the night before in vivid colors, and
Polly's splendid courage had not lost in the telling.

Lois and Betty kept watch at the door, and admitted only the girls that
they knew Polly would want to see. They were not many, for she had a
headache and was thoroughly tired. When the bell rang for study hour,
they left Connie with her.

"Sit down and make yourself comfy. Here's a pillow." Polly threw one of
Lois' to the foot of the bed, and Connie stuffed it behind her back.

"It's perfectly silly, my lying in bed like this," Polly went on,
yawning and stretching luxuriously, "but Mrs. Baird insisted."

"I should think so. You must be nearly dead." Connie looked at her,
wondering.

"Honestly, Poll, you were wonderful. How did you think of that hill, and
have sense enough to go up it?"

Polly buried her head in the pillows and groaned.

"Not you too, Connie?" she asked, tragically. "Do I have to explain
again that I was brought up with horses and have driven all my life, and
been in any number of runaways, so that I am not afraid of any horse
that lives? There, now, I've told you, and if you mention last night
again, I'll ask Miss King to pull you out of my room by the hair of your
head."

"I won't, I won't, on my oath!" Connie promised, laughing. "I'll even
contradict all these people who are calling you a brave heroine, if you
say so."

"I wish you would," Polly said, crossly. "Heroine! how perfectly silly."

"Of course it is, now that I come to think of it. You didn't do anything
so great," Connie teased, "just stopped a couple of wildly running
horses, and saved fifteen girls from sudden death--and what's that? A
mere nothing."

"Connie, I'll--" Polly threatened, sitting up in bed, but Connie pushed
her back. "You'll behave like a good child and answer me some
questions."

"Well, go ahead and ask them."

"First, what's wrong with Dot Mead? I h