him a note, which
still remained unanswered when she started one afternoon on a trip
across the bay for her first Spanish conversation with Professor
Salazar. She had once visited the university buildings, but Professor
Salazar lived not only at some distance from the college, but at some
distance from everything else. Still, she had elaborate written
directions in her pocket, and hoped to find the place without
difficulty.

She had no sooner alighted at the station than she felt an uneasy
consciousness that it was not the right one, and that she should have
gone farther before leaving the railway. However, there was no
certainty about it in her mind, so after asking at two houses half a
mile apart, and finding that the inmates had never heard of Professor
Salazar's existence, she walked down a shady road, hoping to find
another household where his name and fame had penetrated.

The appointed hour for the lessons was half past three on Fridays, but
it was after four, and Polly seemed to be walking farther and farther
away from civilization.

"I shall have to give it up," she thought; "I will go back to the
station where I got off and wait until the next train for San Francisco
comes along, which will be nobody knows when. How provoking it is, and
how stupid I am! Professor Salazar will stay at home for me, and very
likely Mrs. Salazar has made butter-cakes and coffee, and here am I
floundering in the woods! I 'll sit down under these trees and do a
bit of Spanish, while I 'm resting for the walk back."

Just at this moment a chorus of voices sounded in the distance, then
some loud talking, then more singing.

"It is some of the students," thought Polly, as she hastily retired
behind a tree until they should pass.

[Illustration: "It is some of the students."]

But unfortunately they did not pass. Just as they came opposite her
hiding-place, they threw themselves down in a sunny spot on the
opposite side of the road and lighted their cigarettes.

"No hurry!" said one. "Let 's take it easy; the train does n't leave
till 4.50. Where are you going, Ned?"

"Home, I suppose, where I was going when you met me. I told you I
could only walk to the turn."

"Home? No, you don't!" expostulated half a dozen laughing voices; "we
've unearthed the would-be hermit, and we mean to keep him."

"Can't go with you to-night, boys, worse luck!" repeated the second
speaker. "Got to cram for that examination or be plu