The faces of the tellers told nothing as they entered the room, carrying
the little slip of paper that meant so much to these Freshmen. The
chairman rapped loudly for order, and a pin could have been heard drop
while the result was read:
Miss Hamilton . . . . 145 votes
Miss Alden . . . . . 145 "
Miss Dunbar . . . . . 10 "
Miss Chisholm . . . . 9 "
Miss Worth . . . . . 6 "
"We'll have to take another ballot," Beth said in a low tone
excitedly. "How close it is! Oh, Dolly, I do hope that you will get it."
The tension was growing too much. Sharp things were said in undertones,
and a little bitterness was evident in the remarks that were made and
the suggestions that were offered. Dolly sat back quietly, a troubled
look on her face. Even if she were elected, half of the class would be
more or less opposed to her. There would certainly be two factions. What
could she do? What was the _right_ thing to do? What would her mother
advise?
"I wonder if I ought to withdraw my name?" Dolly said to herself,
as another acrimonious remark was made by one of Margaret Hamilton's
admirers. "I have just as much right to run as she has, and, if she is
elected I shall not be hateful to her. I shall congratulate her, and do
all that I can to help her. I would like to be president, and yet--"
The tellers had returned again. The result was announced amid a
breathless silence.
"Miss Hamilton, 157; Miss Alden, 157," announced the chairman of the
tellers. "As there are 315 present, it is quite evident that someone
did not vote."
Obeying a sudden impulse, Dolly rose to her feet.
"Madam Chairman, I did not cast any vote, and while it may be a little
irregular for me to do so now, after the result has been announced, I
hope that I may be accorded that privilege. If so, I cast my vote for
Miss Hamilton."
For a moment no one spoke or seemed to take in the full meaning of
Dolly's generous speech. Then there was a deafening uproar, and the
room was filled with wild cheers. Dolly had done a fine thing, and the
girls were quick to show their appreciation of it.
As soon as the hubbub had partially subsided, Dolly was nominated for the
vice-presidency and unanimously elected. The rest of the meeting went
off smoothly. Something in Dolly's action had touched the better nature
of the girls, and they all felt secretly ashamed of their momentary
bitterness and injustice. Beth was elected recording secretary, and the
other offices were filled without ill feeling or jealousy.
After the meeting Margaret Hamilton went straight to Dolly. "I want to
thank you for my election," she said, with outstretched hand. "You are
the most generous girl I ever knew. I was glad to be elected," with a
look in her eyes that Beth noted, but could not understand. "But I do
hope that sometime I can help make _you_ president. I shall certainly
not forget what you did."
They talked it over afterward in Dolly's room, girl-fashion. "There was
no sense in your doing that," Beth said bluntly. "Of course Margaret
Hamilton voted for herself; if you had voted for yourself at first, you
would have been elected. Don't you see?"
"And don't you see how much feeling there would have been in the class?
I would much rather be vice-president and be elected unanimously the
way I was, than to be president twenty times over. We can't afford to
start our Freshman year with factional feelings, can we, Mary?"
Dolly was in the habit of appealing to Mary whenever she was present.
She had discovered that Mary Sutherland had a great fund of common sense,
and then, too, she did not like her room-mate to feel ignored. She
noticed that of late Mary was trying to do her hair up as Dolly had
done it for her that first night. She had not yet become expert in the
process, but the result was much more satisfactory than before. Dolly
noted, too, little changes in dress that softened the harsh outlines and
lent a little color to her face. She longed to offer advice sometimes,
but the remembrance of the first night restrained her. She would not
invite any snubs. If Mary Sutherland wished her help, Dolly would give
it willingly, but she was not going to make any advances again. And yet
that was just what her shy, diffident room-mate was longing to have
her do. She had not meant to repulse Dolly that first night, but she
had been feeling hurt and grieved then, her ideals were all shattered,
and out of the depths of a heart loyal to her poor hardworking mother,
had come the remark that made Dolly draw back, and that kept her from
ever proffering assistance or suggestions now.
She and Mary saw comparatively little of each other, considering that
they were room-mates. Both were Freshmen, but while Dolly and Beth were
taking the classical course, Mary was taking the scientific. Mary's
recitations, for the most part, came during Dolly's study hours. Of
course there were the evenings, but some way Mary was very seldom in
the room during the evening. Dolly often wondered where she spent the
time, for she had no intimate friend. She was careful, however, not to
question her. They had never reached a degree of intimacy that would
permit that.
Today Mary seemed more companionable than usual, and Dolly found, to her
astonishment, that her taciturn room-mate had been quite as disappointed
as Beth over the outcome of the elections. However, she was more ready
than Beth to acknowledge that Dolly had done the only thing that
could have secured class harmony and good fellowship.
On Wednesday noon college would close for the balance of the week. Those
students who lived near enough could go home to eat their Thanksgiving
dinners, the rest would stay at the Hall and get up such impromptu
entertainments as the occasion suggested and their genius could devise.
Dolly was one of the fortunate ones who could go home. Mary lived west
of the Rocky Mountains, and Beth seemed to have no desire to go home.
Dolly was wild over the prospect. Fred was coming home from Harvard,
and she could stay until the early morning train on Monday. "It is
worth getting up at four o'clock," she announced decidedly. "Oh,
by the way, I'll send Fred a telegram signed 'Vice-President Class
'09.' That doesn't sound as big as 'President' would, of course,
but it will do. Patrick will take it down to the office for me. Blessed
Patrick." She scratched off her message humming gaily:
"Hurrah! hurrah! oh, jubilation!
Two more days and then vacation;
No more Latin, no more French,
No more sitting on a hard wooden bench."
She turned suddenly and caught an expression of utter homesickness and
loneliness on her room-mate's face. Beth was looking hard and bitter,
a look that Dolly had come to know and dread. She mentally anathematized
herself for talking of home before these two girls. Then a brilliant
thought struck her.
"I have a bit of news for you," she announced briefly. "It may be
of interest to you. The fact is, you are both going home with me on
Wednesday."
Her companions stared at her. "Don't be a goose, Dolly. 'Tis very good
of you to propose it, but your father and mother, to say nothing of that
brother of yours, will want all of your time. They will not care to have
strangers there whom they must entertain."
"They will not entertain you, my dear. I am taking you to entertain a
couple of boys whom Fred proposes taking home. Don't you see how useful
you can make yourselves?"
"Elizabeth could," Mary Sutherland replied quietly, but with a certain
wistfulness. "I would be no help at all. I never could talk to boys;
then, I have no clothes to wear, and you would be ashamed of me."
"If you cannot entertain boys, you must learn to do it before you are
a week older. No one expects college girls to have many clothes, so that
part of the question is disposed of. I am going to send an extra telegram
to Mother now, so that she will be sure to get a large turkey. I don't
want you to go hungry when you eat your Thanksgiving dinner with me."
"But, Dolly--"
"Oh, will you please be still? Both of you? You interrupt me."
"You are wasting your money by sending that telegram, and your strength
in writing it," said Beth coolly, "for I, at least, am not going."
But Dolly had a very persuasive way of her own, and in the end both Beth
and Mary Sutherland succumbed, the latter, however, not without sundry
misgivings. "You know that my dresses are old-fashioned and I cannot
afford any new ones. Will you not be ashamed of me?"
"Of course not," and while that was perfectly true, Dolly knew that she
could not take the same pride in introducing Mary that she could in
introducing stylish, winning Beth; for Beth, despite her red hair, was
strikingly pretty. Her freckles had disappeared with the summer, and
her gowns always fitted to perfection. She could play and sing and act.
There was no doubt, at all, but that she would prove very popular with
Fred's chums. Beth was small and slender, her eyes were a marvelously
deep blue and her complexion fair. Mary was tall, dark and awkward. Her
hair was thick, and, properly arranged, showed its full beauty. But Mary
knew nothing of the art of dressing. She felt it, and did not want her
friend to be ashamed of her. She went to the point directly, which was
characteristic of her, when she had once made up her mind on a point.
"Will you tell me what dresses to take, and can you give me any hints
about fixing my things up? Of course, I have not the clothes that you
and Elizabeth have, but if you will help me, I will try to do the best
I can with my limited wardrobe."
Dolly studied a moment in silence. "White always looks well, even if it
is simple. You have a couple of white dresses. They are laundered, I
know. Take both of them along, you will need them for dinner dresses.
Father always likes us to dress a little for dinner. He says it rests
him to come home and see Mother and me with something pretty on, and
we are quite ready to humor him. Then--I think--yes--I am sure that
you had better wear your blue for a travelling dress. You'll not need
anything else, for we shall be gone such a little time. Have you bright
ribbons? Never mind if you haven't. We shall all draw on Mother's
stock, she is used to that sort of thing, and doesn't mind a bit."
"I must go down town today to buy a hat. Would you very much mind going
with me to help?"
"Not at all. I just love to buy things, but Beth and I have been down
town so often lately that Miss Newton may refuse permission."
"I'll fix that part," Mary said quietly.
"You will? How confidently you say that. Professor Newton is very nice,
my dear, and I adore her, but I don't imagine that she is very easily
'fixed.'"
Miss Sutherland looked amused. "I will go and speak to her now," was
all she said.
She came back with the desired permission, and the two went off gaily,
while Beth went to her room to write to Roy. To Beth's great surprise,
Roy had answered that first letter of hers very promptly, and though his
letter had been the short, unsatisfactory kind that boys always write,
especially boys as young as Roy, Beth had been touched and pleased at
his evident delight over the fact that she had written to him. Since
then her missives went regularly. She felt sorry for the homesick lad.
"I wonder if Dolly's father would have sent Fred off at that age,"
she said to herself. "I am anxious to see Dolly's people. Shall I like
them? Well, the vacation is not long, anyway."
No, it would not be long, and yet there would be plenty of time in it
for the happening of various things of more or less importance to the
college lassies.