"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 cla.s.s 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 circ.u.mference? 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 b.a.l.l.s 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 scholars.h.i.+p clause.

How awful it seemed to struggle against cla.s.s prejudice! Why must some girls always be sn.o.bs?

"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-sn.o.b."

"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 scholars.h.i.+p 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 cla.s.ses, 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.

Cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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?"