A CLASHING OF WITS.
Queen's Cottage seemed destined to shelter girls of interesting and
unusual types.
"They always do flock together, you know," Miss Pomeroy had remarked to
the President, as the two women sat talking in the President's office
one day. The question had come up with the subject of the new Japanese
student, the first of her nation ever to seek learning in the halls of
Wellington.
"They do," said the President, "but whether it's the first comers
actively persuading the next ones or whether it's a matter of
unconscious attraction is hard to tell."
"In this case I understand it's a matter of very conscious attraction on
one side and no persuasion on the other," replied Miss Pomeroy. "That
charming overgrown girl from Kentucky, Miss Brown, although she's as
poor as a church mouse and last year even blacked boots to earn a little
money, is one of the chief attractions, I think. But some of the other
girls are quite remarkable. Margaret Wakefield lives there, you know.
She makes as good a speech as her politician father. It will be
interesting to watch her career if she only doesn't spoil everything by
marrying."
The two spinsters looked at each other and laughed.
"She won't," answered the President. "She's much too ambitious."
"Then," went on Miss Pomeroy, "there's Julia Kean. She could do almost
anything she wished, and like all such people she doesn't want to do
anything. She hasn't a spark of ambition. It's Miss Brown who keeps
her up to the mark. The girl was actually about to run away last winter
just at mid-years. She lost her courage, I believe, and there was a
remarkable scene, but she was induced to stay."
"Who are the other girls?" asked the President thoughtfully.
"One of them, you recall, is a daughter of the famous suffragette, Mrs.
Anna Oldham. But I fancy the poor daughter has had quite enough of
suffrage. The only other really interesting characters at Queen's,
besides your Japanese, are two sophomores who roomed at Plympton's last
year. They are the Williams sisters, Katherine and Edith, and they are
remarkably bright. They work in a team, and I have not been able to
discover which is the brighter of the two, although I had them to tea
once or twice last year. One is talkative and the other is quiet, but I
suspect the quiet one of doing a deal of thinking."
The two women enjoyed these occasional chats about Wellington students.
They were accustomed to regard most of the classes as units rather than
the members as individuals. Sometimes it was a colorless, uninteresting
class with no special traits worthy of admiration. Sometimes it was a
snobbish, purse-proud class, as in the case of the present juniors. And
again, as with last year's seniors, it was a class of sterling qualities
made up of big girls with fine minds. Seldom did a class contain more
than one or two brilliant members, often not one. The present sophomore
class was one of those "freak" bodies which appear once in a life time.
It was an unusually small class, there being only thirty-eight members.
Some twenty of these girls were extremely bright and at least ten gave
promise of something more than ordinary. As the fastest skaters keep
together on the ice, so the brightest girls gradually drifted into
Queen's and became as one family. It was known that there was a good
deal of jealousy in the less distinguished portion of the class because
of this sparkling group. But, all unconscious of the feeling they were
exciting, the Queen's girls settled themselves down to the enjoyment of
life, each in her own peculiar way.
The two new sophomores at Queen's were, in fact, a welcome addition, and
Molly and her friends found them exceedingly amusing. They were tall,
rather raw-boned types, with sallow skins and large, lustrous,
melancholy eyes. There was only a year's difference in their ages, and
at first it was difficult to tell one from the other, but Edith, the
younger of the sisters, was an inch taller than Katherine and was very
quiet, while Katherine talked enough for the two of them. Because they
were always together they were called "the Gemini," although
occasionally they had terrific battles and ceased to be on speaking
terms for a day or two.
One afternoon, not long after the opening day at college, the Williams
sisters and Mabel Hinton, who now lived in the Quadrangle, paid a visit
to Molly in her room.
"We came in to discuss with you who you consider would make the best
class president this year, Molly," began Katherine. "It's rather hard to
choose one among so many who could fill the place with distinction----"
"But I think Margaret should be chosen," interrupted Molly. "She was a
good one last year. Why change?"
"Don't you think it looks rather like favoritism?" put in Mabel. "Some
of the other girls should have a chance. There's you, for instance."
"Me?" cried Molly. "Why, I wouldn't know how to act in a president's
chair. I'd be embarrassed to death."
"You'd soon learn," said Katherine. "It's very easy to become accustomed
to an exalted state."
"But why not one of you?" began Molly.
"It's a question," here remarked the silent Edith, "whether a class
president should be the most popular girl or the best executive."
"Margaret is both," exclaimed Molly loyally; "but, after all, why not
leave it to the vote at the class meeting?"
"Oh, it will be finally decided in that way, of course," said Katherine,
"but such things are really decided beforehand by a little
electioneering, and I was proposing to do some stump speaking in your
behalf, Molly, if you cared to take the place."
"Oh, no," cried Molly, flushing with embarrassment; "it's awfully nice
of you, but I wouldn't for anything interfere with Margaret. She is the
one to have it. Besides, as Queen's girls, we ought to vote for her.
She belongs to the family."
"But some of the girls are kicking. They say we are running the class,
and are sure to ring in one of our own crowd just to have things our
way."
"How absurd!" ejaculated Molly. "I'm sure I never thought of such a
thing. But if that's the case, why vote for me, then?"
"Because," replied Mabel, "the Caroline Brinton faction proposed you.
They say, if they must have a Queen's girl, they'll take you."
"'Must' is a ridiculous word to use at an honest election," broke in
Molly hotly. "Let them choose their candidate and vote as they like.
We'll choose ours and vote as we like."
"That's exactly the point," said Katherine. "They are something like
Kipling's monkey tribe, the 'banderlog.' They do a lot of chattering,
but they can't come to any agreement. They need a head, and I propose to
be that head and tell them whom to vote for. Shall it be Molly or
Margaret?"
"Margaret," cried Molly; "a thousand times, Margaret. I wouldn't usurp
her place for worlds. She's perfectly equipped in every possible way for
the position."
Nance and Judy now came into the room. Nance looked a little excited and
Judy was red in the face.
"Do you know," burst out the impetuous Judy, "that Caroline Brinton has
called a mass meeting of all the sophomores not at Queen's? She has
started up some cock-and-bull tale about the Queen's girls trying to run
the class. She says we're a ring of politicians. We ran in all our
officers last year and we're going to try and do it this year."
"What a ridiculous notion," laughed Molly. "Margaret was elected by her
own silver-tongued oratory, and Jessie was made secretary because she
was so pretty and popular and seemed to belong next to Margaret anyway."
"But the question is: are the Queen's girls going to sit back and let
themselves be libeled?" demanded Nance.
Here Edith spoke up.
"Of course," she said, "let them talk. Don't you know that people who
denounce weaken their own cause always, and it's the people who keep
still who have all the strength on their side? Let them talk and at the
class meeting to-morrow some of us might say a few quiet words to the
point."
The girls recognized the wisdom of this decision and concluded to keep
well away from any forced meeting of sophomores that evening. It had not
occurred to simple-hearted Molly that it was jealousy that had fanned
the flame of indignation against Queen's girls, but it had occurred to
some of the others, the Williamses in particular, who were very shrewd
in regard to human nature. As for Margaret Wakefield, she was openly and
shamelessly enjoying the fight.
"Let them talk," she said. "To-morrow we'll have some fun. Just because
they have made such unjust accusations against us they ought to be
punished by being made to vote for us."
It was noted that Margaret used the word "us" in speaking of future
votes. She had been too well-bred to declare herself openly as candidate
for the place of class president, but it was generally known that she
would not be displeased to become the successful candidate. The next
morning they heard that only ten sophomores attended the mass meeting
and that they had all talked at once.
Later in the day when the class met to elect its president for the year,
as Edith remarked: "The hoi polloi did look black and threatening."
Molly felt decidedly uncomfortable and out of it. She didn't know how to
make a speech for one thing and she hoped they'd leave her alone. It was
utterly untrue about Queen's girls. The cleverest girls in the class
happened to live there. That was all.
Margaret, the Williamses and Judy wore what might be called "pugilistic
smiles." They intended to have a sweet revenge for the things that had
been said about them and on the whole they were enjoying themselves
immensely. They had not taken Molly into their confidence, but what
they intended to do was well planned beforehand.
Former President Margaret occupied the chair and opened the meeting with
a charming little speech that would have done credit to the wiliest
politician. She moved her hearers by her reference to class feeling and
their ambition to make the class the most notable that ever graduated
from Wellington. She flattered and cajoled them and put them in such a
good humor with themselves that there was wild applause when she
finished and the Brinton forces sheepishly avoided each other's eyes.
There was a long pause after this. Evidently the opposing side did not
feel capable of competing with so much oratory as that. Margaret rose
again.
"Since no one seems to have anything to say," she said, "I beg to start
the election by nominating Miss Caroline Brinton of Philadelphia for our
next class president."
If a bomb shell had burst in the room, there couldn't have been more
surprise. Molly could have laughed aloud at the rebellious and
fractious young woman from Philadelphia, who sat embarrassed and
tongue-tied, unable to say a word.
Again there was a long pause. The Brinton forces appeared incapable of
expressing themselves.
"I second the nomination of Miss Brinton," called Judy, with a bland,
innocent look in her gray eyes.
Then Katherine Williams arose and delivered a deliciously humorous and
delightful little speech that caused laughter to ripple all over the
room. She ended by nominating Margaret Wakefield for re-election and
before they knew it everybody in the room was applauding.
Nominations for other officers were made after this and a girl from
Montana was heard to remark:
"I'm for Queen's. They're a long sight brighter than any of us."
When the candidates stood lined up on the platform just before the votes
were cast, Caroline Brinton looked shriveled and dried up beside the
ample proportions of Margaret Wakefield, who beamed handsomely on her
classmates and smiled so charmingly that in comparison there appeared to
be no two ways about it.
"She's the right one for president," Judy heard a girl say. "She looks
like a queen bee beside little Carrie Brinton. And nobody could say she
ran the election this time, either. Carrie has had the chance she
wanted."
Molly was one of the nominees for secretary and, standing beside a
nominee from the opposing side, she also shone in comparison.
When the votes were counted, it was found that Margaret and Molly had
each won by a large majority, and Caroline Brinton was ignominiously
defeated.
That night Jessie Lynch, who had not in the least minded being
superseded as secretary by Molly, gave a supper party in honor of her
chum's re-election. Only Queen's girls were there, except Mabel Hinton,
and there was a good deal of fun at the expense of Caroline Brinton of
Philadelphia.
"Poor thing," said Molly, "I couldn't help feeling sorry for her."
"But why?" demanded Katherine. "She had the chance she wanted. She was
nominated, but she was such a poor leader that her own forces wouldn't
stand by her at the crucial moment. Oh, but it was rich! What a lesson!
And how charming Margaret was! How courteous and polite through it all.
What a beautiful way to treat an enemy!"
"What a beautiful way to treat wrath, you mean," said her sister; "with
'a soft answer.'"
"It was as good as a play," laughed Judy. "I never enjoyed myself more
in all my life."
But, somehow, Molly felt a little uncomfortable always when she recalled
that election, although it was an honest, straightforward election, won
by the force of oratory and personality, and so skillfully that the
opposing side never knew it had been duped by a prearranged plan of four
extremely clever young women.