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Molly Brown's Freshman Days
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“Is your trunk strapped?”
“I’ve got to sleep in an upper berth.”
“Don’t forget to write me.”
“Where are you to be this summer?”
“I can’t get this top down and the trunk man’s waiting!”
“Oh, dear, do hurry! We’ll miss the bus!”
“Young ladies, the bus is coming,” called the voice of Mrs. Markham from the front door.
And then, with a fluttering of handkerchiefs and many a last call of “good-bye,” the bus-load of girls moved sedately down the avenue.
Molly, looking back at the twin gray towers of Wellington, understood why Frances Andrews wanted so much to return.
“How glad I am to be only a sophomore,” she cried. “I shall have three more years at Wellington!”
THE END
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