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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s?

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 a.s.sistance 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 cla.s.sical 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 cla.s.s 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 Cla.s.s '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 succ.u.mbed, 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 la.s.sies.

CHAPTER V

When the train on Wednesday evening halted for a moment at the first suburban station outside Dolly's city home, she gave a little shriek of surprise and delight. A moment later three young men entered the Pullman where Dolly and her friends were seated.

One of the young men was instantly pounced upon by Dolly and given an enthusiastic reception; meanwhile his two companions stood back smilingly, and proceeded to scrutinize Dolly's companions very closely.

"Oh, dear, where shall we begin with the introductions? We have all got to be introduced, I see. Well, this is my brother, Fred, Miss Newby and Miss Sutherland. He is really very nice, girls. I have brought him up quite properly."

"The bringing up was altogether the other way, as I chance to be a couple of years my sister's senior. Now, boys, come forward." A moment later and the girls had formally made the acquaintance of "Mr. Martin"

and "Mr. Steele."

"I told the mater to let us meet you, and she finally consented, though she made us promise not to loiter on the way. We got here this morning, you know."

"How jolly, Fred, and oh! how good it is to be at home once more,"