Just now they were sitting on the floor of the assembly room platform, waiting for orders. The Seniors had their hands full with the decorations and were transforming the dignified old room into a bower of greens and dogwood.
Madelaine Ames approached Louise with a very worried expression on her usually smiling face.
"We haven't half enough branches," she complained. "We need loads more dogwood. Can't Polly and Lois get some for us?"
"Hush!" cautioned Louise, for they were within ear-shot of the four girls. "Don't you realize that their hands mustn't be all scratched up? Ask Bet and Angela."
Madelaine crossed the platform to where the four sat in mystified silence, for they had overheard every word of the conversation between the two older girls.
"Betty," she called, "will you and Angela get us some more big branches of dogwood or apple blossoms? Those stupid Sofs brought in only little twigs. Take one of the stable boys with you to do the heavy work for you. You know about the size we want."
"Of course we will," answered Betty, "and we'll bring you the trees back if you want them," she called as they disappeared. On their way to the stables Angela said:
"I'd like to know what Lo and Poll are having their hands saved for."
As she said it, Polly and Lois, still on the platform, were wondering the same thing.
"Can't we do something for you?" Lois asked presently, trying to look unconscious.
"Yes, if you will," Louise answered. "I'm worried to death about my Commencement dress; it hasn't come yet. Will you go down to the express-room and see if there's a package for me?"
"If there is, hadn't we better open it and shake the wrinkles out of your dress?" suggested Polly.
"Do, please, and I'll love you even more than I do now," promised Louise.
The box had arrived, and as the two girls untied it and took out the countless wads of tissue-paper, they discussed the subject uppermost in their minds.
"What did Louise mean about our hands, Lo?" Polly demanded.
"Perhaps it's something to do with the musical," answered Lois, slowly smoothing out the creamy white sleeve.
"They'd hardly be so particular about that," mused Polly, "and yet it couldn't be anything to do with Commencement."
"N-no." Lois hesitated as she crumpled up a piece of tissue-paper into a tight ball. "Still, I can't help thinking that no one has been chosen to carry the ribbons on Commencement."