Betty Wales Senior | Page 6

Emily will be class-day orator of course," added Betty. "Oh,
Madeline, I'm so glad you thought of Eleanor. Won't it be splendid to
have a 'Merry Heart' for toastmistress?"
Madeline nodded carelessly. She was thinking more about a letter from
home, with news that her father and mother were to sail at once for
Italy, than about matters of class policy. She loved the Italian sea and
the warm southern sunshine; and the dear old "out-at-elbows" villa on
the heights above Sorrento was the nearest thing she had known to a
home. Father had told her to come along if she liked--ever since she
could remember she had been allowed to make her own decisions. But
then, as Babbie had said, there was only one 19--, and with plenty of
"passed up" courses to her credit she could work as little as she pleased
this year and never go to a class-meeting after to-day.
"Let's stop for the B's," she suggested, as they went out into the
September sunshine. "Bob hates meetings as much as I do. I'm not
going to be the only one to be disciplined."
Before they had reached the Westcott, the B's shouted to them from
their hammocks in the apple-orchard, which they reluctantly abandoned
to go to the meeting. Bob had just had an exciting runaway--her annual
spills were a source of great amusement to her friends and of greater
terror to her doting parents--and she was so eager to recount her
adventures and display her bruises, that nothing more was said about
Madeline's plan for Eleanor.
The class-meeting was large and exciting. The election of a senior
president is as thrilling an event at Harding as the coronation of a Czar
of all the Russias to the world at large. It was a foregone conclusion
that Marie Howard would be the unanimous choice of the class, but

until the act was fairly consummated--and indeed until Marie had been
dined at Cuyler's and overwhelmed with violets to the satisfaction of
her many friends--the excitement would not abate. There was a pleasant
uncertainty about the other class officers. Six avowed candidates for the
treasurership quarreled good naturedly over their respective
qualifications for the position, each one in her secret soul intending to
withdraw in favor of her dearest friend among the other five. In another
corner of the room an agitated group discussed the best disposition of
the ten thousand dollar fund.
"I don't think we ought to dispose of it hastily," Christy Mason was
saying. "It's a lot of money and we ought to consider very carefully
before we decide."
"Besides," added Emily Davis flippantly, "as long as we delay our
decision, we shall continue to be persons of importance in the eyes of
the faculty. It's comical to see how deferential they all are. I took dinner
at the Burton Sunday, and afterward Miss Raymond invited a few of us
into her room for coffee. She didn't mention the money,--she's too
clever for that,--but she talked a lot about the constant need for new
books in her department. 'You can't run an English department properly
unless you can give your pupils access to the newest books'--that was
the burden of her refrain. Marion Lustig was quite impressed. I think
she means to propose endowing an English department library fund."
"Dr. Hinsdale wants books for his department, and a lot of
psychological journals--all about ghosts and mediums--that college
professors look up about, you know," Nita Reese ended somewhat
vaguely.
"And Miss Kent is hoping we'll give the whole sum to her to spend for
another telescope," added Babe, whose specialty, if one might dignify
her unscholarly enthusiasms by that name, was astronomy.
"Every one of the faculty wants it for something," said Christy.
"Naturally. They're all human, aren't they?" laughed Emily Davis, just
as Rachel appeared in the doorway, looking very dignified and

impressive in a cap and gown.
"Is the tassel right?" she whispered anxiously, as she passed a group of
girls seated near the platform steps.
"No, put it the other side--unless you're a Ph. D.," returned Roberta
Lewis in a sepulchral whisper. "Father has one. He lectures at Johns
Hopkins," she added, in answer to nudges from her neighbors and
awestruck inquiries as to "how she knew."
Then Rachel called the meeting to order. She thanked the class for the
honor they had done her, and hoped she had not disappointed them.
"I've tried not to consider any clique or crowd," she said--"not to think
anything about the small groups in our class, but to find out what the
whole big, glorious class of 19-- wanted"--Rachel's voice rang out
proudly--"and then to carry out its wishes. I believe in public
sentiment--in the big generous feeling that makes you willing to give
up your own