“She won’t run!”
“Of course she will. Who asked her?”
“I didn’t ask her, but I heard her say emphatically that she would not.
And you know Jane Allen.”
“But we must have her. And we have to get very busy before the freshmen
have a chance to go over our heads. I have been lobbying ever since the
four thirty, and I have seen all the old girls, and lots of new ones.
This is so important, Gloria. You know what a big year we have
planned.”
“Yes, Judy, I do know. All the more reason why we should have Jane. But
she can’t or won’t forget her freshman experience. She declared it
showed a prejudice that would react on the club if we chose her. That
is why she refuses.”
Gloria Gude and Judith Stearns were in conclave. It was the day before
class election and not a single head could be seen anywhere either in
or out of college. They ran in pairs, and from that up to tens but no
singles. Everyone was scouting and rooting secretly for her candidate,
and not a few sashes were inadvertently exchanged in the wild pulls and
grabs, desperately made to get votes that might be passing by in chapel
or through recitation halls. Dozia Dalton had thus acquired Molly
Linott’s black velvet long ding-dong belt, and Nettie Brocton lost her
embroidered Chinese ribbon somewhere going from two ten, to three
fifteen.
“If I get any more souvenirs I shall have to have an auction,” Judith
remarked, to Gloria. “Someone just pegged a perfectly good powder puff
at me to get my attention. Now, who uses that scent?”
“Oh, Judy, let’s be serious. What shall we do if Jane will not run?”
“Take her,” declared Judith, practical for once.
“But how?”
“That is for us to decide. We are the executive committee. Let’s get
under cover.”
The brisk October morning pinched their cheeks giving glow but not
imparting warmth. It was chilly even for college girls—quite cold for
mere folks.
“Come over to the wigwam. There we can talk unmolested, as Cleo would
say. We must make her editor this year, by the way,” digressed Gloria.
“One thing at a time, especially one election. Now, whom have you seen?
Who will lead the Maths?” Judith checked up.
“Tim Maher. You know she is a dandy. She not only leads but lines ’em
up. She won’t let a single vote get loose.”
“Yes, Timmy is dependable. But I thought the Seatons rather copped her
late last season? She went a little with Mazie.”
“Oh, yes, but even Mazie is with us now. Marian Seaton has lost a lot
of friends. I think I know why.”
“Could I know? It might help with the election.”
“Well, Judy, it is very personal. Haven’t you noticed Marian is wearing
some of last year’s things?”
“No, I hadn’t. But they surely have scads of money.”
“Oh, yes, but Marian has a very determined father, I believe. However,
it is not anything we should feel like injecting into our politics.
Jane would never stand for home stuff getting into class work.”
“Oh, no, I had no idea of suggesting it,” replied the rather aggrieved
Judith. “I have some honor myself, Gloria.”
“Don’t get mad, Judy. I know you are all wool and a yard wide, or you
will be after this year’s series. But let us keep at the subject. Whom
have we for the second division?”
“Suppose we try Janet Clark?”
“Oh, she’s too fly-away and pretty. Likely that’s her powder puff that
came kiting. How about Ted Guthrie?”
“If she isn’t too fat to get around, Ted is all right. But have you
observed her circumference? Must have spent her summer at a pure food
show. Well, say we try Ted Guthrie,” and the pencil scrawled over the
half sheet of notebook paper.
“Oh, there’s Nettie Brocton. Let’s call her and ask about the
Triangles. Oh, Nettie! Whoo! Whoo!”
Answering the owl call, Nettie ran across the campus, jumping nimbly
over the hedge balls that marked the places where girls were not
supposed to tread. But the reckless late fall weather cancelled such
orders automatically.
“Nettie, do you know about the Triangles? How are they lining up? For
Jane?”
“Oh, I am so disappointed,” and the pretty face submerged its dimples.
“Someone has been telling about the college the most absurd story about
Jane.”
“Story about Jane!” both girls exclaimed, indignantly.
“Yes, too ridiculous. Said she has adopted a girl, actually adopted a
girl, who is at this college. And that she has brought her here just to
wait on her. Did you ever hear such trash?”
A light filtered through Judith’s mental reservation. That story must
mean Helen. And the “adoption” must belong to the scholarship clause.
How awful it seemed to struggle against class prejudice! Why must some
girls always be snobs?
“Who would have spread such a crazy yarn?” asked Gloria.
“Well, someone who shopped in New York late this summer, I guess. Said
she saw Jane lots of times, and the little girl carrying her bundles.”
Judith’s face fell to zero. After all they had done for Helen, to think
the tables had been turned, making Jane the beneficiary!
“We have to come right out and contradict that,” exclaimed Gloria. “We
could never win with Jane wearing the stigma of—snob.”
“And Jane Allen above all girls! She who has always been so generous
and so considerate. Why, I would as soon think of accusing her of
theft, or any crime outright, as to say she would bring a girl here
under false pretenses.”
None knew better than did Judith how delicate a situation was evolving.
To clear Jane would implicate Helen to the extent, at least, of
proclaiming her a scholarship student, and this would be an outrage,
just when she was becoming so popular, and when news from her
friends—but Judith could no longer cogitate. She must act! She must do
something to save the situation.
“I was with Jane and Helen in New York, and we stopped at Miss
Jordan’s. We all had a wonderful time. Now how could anyone make bad
capital out of that?” she demanded of the defenseless and innocent
Gloria.
“Well, you know the opposition,” Gloria reminded the indignant Judith.
“They are all wizards at that sort of thing. There goes the gong. We
must away. Nettie, don’t do anything till you hear from us. Be at the
palms when three thirty is dismissed,” and with a well-practiced dash
all three covered the stretch of green and presently sauntered in line
with their classes, quite as calm and unruffled as the remainder
appeared. All but Judith. Those who knew her best might easily have
guessed she was “boiling over.” That determined, self-restrained
expression could mean nothing else.
“What on earth is it, Judy?” whispered Jane.
“Turned on my ankle,” glibly lied Judith, without any such intention.
“Hurt much?” persisted the troublesome Jane.
“No, that is—yes. I don’t know—maybe nothing,” and Judith blushed at
her own stupidity. Presently Jane would be suggesting iodine. Breathing
exercises over, just as Judith had feared, along came Jane with her
whisper:
“Iodine!”
“Oh, yes, war paint!” Judith flung back. “I am all right, Janie, I was
joking.”
A look of relief was so apparent on Jane’s pretty face that Judith was
chagrined. But Judith knew too well if she did not put an end to the
joke at once, and that decidedly, Jane would likely be insisting upon
doing the rubbing for that ankle. Maybe between periods. Jane was like
that with her sympathy, practical.
Class in session all eyes seemed focused in the direction of the “Two
Jays” as Jane and Judith were dubbed. Jane was quite as determined as
her opponents that she would not run for class presidency, and Judith
was just as positive as both factions that Jane would run and also that
she would win. Little Judy Stearns, as she was telling herself, must
have some sense, and she would get right to operating it that very
afternoon. But how help Jane without hurting Helen?
The day’s work seemed interminable. Everything dragged but worry, and
that leapt.
In a retrospective interval the memory of the queer fainting spell
Helen suffered, just before leaving New York, came to Judith with
positive relevance. What if that had been caused by someone frightening
Helen, and if that someone had sent all that hateful story to
Wellington?
Obviously Helen would never have told them if such a thing had
happened. Would she admit it now?
That the Polish girl was seriously afraid of some haunting terror
Judith knew instinctively, and it was certain any additional cause for
worry would be equivalent to the proverbial last straw. No telling what
might occur if Helen ever guessed she was the innocent cause of trouble
for Jane.
When class was finally dismissed Judith avoided Jane and sought out her
“chiefs.” A real round-up of the voting situation must be made with all
possible celerity, and Judith knew it would be no easy matter to rally
her scattering forces, in the face of the delicious gossip that was
slowly but surely filtering through the groups to the detriment of
Jane’s reputation.
Minette Brocton was waiting at the palms. She pinched Judith’s hands
confidently as the two fell into step for recreation.
“I think I can trace the story, Judy,” she said in a hushed voice. “And
whether Jane runs or not, we must bury the corpse, or better still,
cremate it. But how about little Nell? She seems supersensitive.”
“She is exactly that. But don’t you think all—strangers are apt to be?”
Judith was on the point of saying “foreigners,” when she caught
herself.
“Yes, I have always noticed that,” Minette replied. “But I overheard
something at luncheon that gave me a clue. Did you ever meet a boy, a
sort of foreigner while you were in New York?”
“A boy—a foreigner!” Judith searched her memory. “Of course we likely
met many such. You don’t mean call boys, bell boys, or check boys, do
you?”
“Oh, no, certainty not. I knew you met battalions of them. I mean some
one who called on—Helen?”
“Oh, mercy no!” Judith almost gasped. “Helen would not see anyone. She
acted like a frightened little mouse.”
“Then did she get many—letters?”
“Never one that I saw,” promptly replied the surprised Judith.
“Well, it is something about a boy, and a letter, and of course he had
to be foreign to match up. But I know it is all plain rubbish. And I
will do all in my power to run it down. Meanwhile we have to have an
election,” and the soft brown eyes looked wistfully into Judith’s
darker orbs.
“Worse luck,” replied Judith. “But since we must have it, we must elect
our candidate. I never felt quite so helpless. It is plain I do depend
a lot on Janie.”
“We all do, but this is an excellent opportunity to try out our own
mettle. If I could only come right out and ask——”
“Whom?” insisted Judith with much vehemence.
“Marian Seaton, of course.”
“Then, why not!”
“Because I have no defence prepared. I would not know what to say to
offset her accusations. You know how horribly sneering and insinuating
she is, if she would only say something intelligent one might reply,
but she just smirks, and sneers, and curls those painted lips.”
“Oh, easy, Nettie, don’t slam Marian. She is real, at corners, you
know, even if the corners are anything but square, still I am willing
to admit Marian is insidious,” Judith qualified.
“The smirking snob,” Minette declared, losing her temper. “I have no
patience with a girl in the juniors who acts like a freshling cad. It
isn’t as if she had not already had the benefit of two hard years’
training.”
“And enough hard knocks to make the training effective,” corroborated
Judith. “I know all that, Nettie. But it is just the peculiar
situation. Difficult problems require skilful handling, and this is a
hard knot. I may as well tell you, Nettie, something about the whole
thing, so we will be able to work intelligently,” Judith suddenly
decided.
“Seems to me every one is holding conference with every one else,”
remarked Minette, seeking out a safe place in which to continue their
talk. “I wonder how they will ever get together for the line up?”
“I have tried to take care of that for our party,” Judith answered. “We
have arranged to meet directly after supper on the South Slope. When we
call the roll and give the handshake, we will know if we have any spies
among us. Then, when all is fixed, we will take the hall by storm and
put our ticket through before the freshmen know what is going on. Of
course, they may have a plan better than ours and may swamp us,” Judith
finished, a little dubiously.
“Oh, there is Jane! She is looking for us. What shall we do now? We can
never plan with her listening,” exclaimed Minette, regretfully.
“Got to postpone it a little,” Judith said hurriedly. “Hello, Janie.
What’s the war cry?”
“Judy, dear, I hate to be so emphatic, but I really can’t let you go on
with this electioneering for me. I will not run.” Jane struck a rigid
pose and spoke with unmistakable emphasis.
“But why?” gasped Minette, before Judith could speak.
“It is too long a story to tell in a moment,” Jane replied very
seriously, “but you must believe me, when I say, I cannot run.”
Judith bit her red lips until her wonderful teeth threatened to take
root outside of their limits. She was saying yes, just as emphatically
as Jane was saying no. The two heads were all but wagging, and each
wigwagged a very different meaning.
“You still feel all that old stuff about being a Westerner and having
had squabbles during your fresh year,” blurted Judith. “You know,
perfectly well, Jane Allen, all the whole college admires you, and you
won’t let us have our way. Now, do you call that fair play?”
“Well, Judith, I have to think of—other things. You may imagine every
one likes me, but I have a perfectly good pair of working ears and I
have not wadded them up for the last few days. From what I have
unwillingly heard, I can judge of what I didn’t hear,” and Jane smiled
that old-time determined Allen smile, the pride of her father. Could he
have seen her now he would have openly rejoiced. Jane assumed a
distinctive attitude. It proclaimed “No Compromise.”
“Perhaps, if I skip along, you two may fight it out in comfort,”
suggested Minette. “I’ll away—and—see—some—folks,” she finished
enigmatically. But Judith had the interpretive key.