Once the sophomores had done their duty in the way of entertaining their freshmen sisters, they promptly turned to their own affairs.

Following the freshman frolic a busy week of sophomore electioneering set in. It was succeeded by a class meeting that barely escaped being a quarrel.

At least a third of the class had, it appeared, enlisted under Marian Seaton's banner. These ardent supporters who had espoused her cause in the previous year and had been defeated, again came to the front with belligerent energy. Though lacking in numbers, they were strong in disagreeable opposition.

Christine Ellis' nomination of Judith Stearns for president, which was seconded by Alicia Reynolds, caused one after another of Marian's adherents to rise to their feet in hot objection. For five minutes or more the chairman of the nomination committee had her hands full in subduing the rebels.

Stung by the insult, Judith arose, white with righteous wrath, to decline the nomination. Repeated cries of, "Sit down, Judy. We want you for our president!" "What's the matter with Judy? She's all right!" and, "Judy Stearns or nobody!" drowned the refusal she strove to utter. In the end she threw up her hands in a gesture of despair and sat down, amid approving cheers from her triumphant supporters.

The nomination of Alicia Reynolds as vice-president was hardly less opposed by the other faction, though it was carried in spite of protest. With deliberate intent to shame, Barbara Temple calmly nominated Maizie Gilbert as treasurer, thereby astounding the objectors to momentary dumbness. They soon rallied, however, and one of their number hastily seconded the nomination, which was carried.

Emboldened to action, Maizie promptly nominated Leila Brookes, one of her friends, for secretary. This nomination was avidly seconded by another of Marian's adherents and also carried. Having won their point against unworthy opposition, the majority could afford to be generous.

The final result of the election found honors equally divided between the two sets of girls, a condition of affairs which promised anything but a peaceful year for 19—.

Gathered at Rutherford Inn that evening for a spread in honor of Judith, given by Christine and Barbara, the latter expressed herself frankly in regard to the afternoon's proceedings.

"That class meeting was as nearly a riot as could be," she declared disgustedly. "I expected to engage in hand-to-hand combat before it ended. I thought the best way to shame that crowd was to give them the chance, they didn't want to give us."

"They snapped at it, too," Christine Ellis said scornfully.

"I'll never forgive you girls for making me president when I didn't want to be," was Judith's rueful assertion.

"We would never have forgiven you if you had backed out," retorted Ethel Lacey.

"I didn't have the least word to say about it. Nobody would listen to me."

Judith's comical air of resignation provoked a laugh.

"You should thus be pleased that you are well-liked, Judy," asserted Adrienne. "And Alicia, here, we were delighted with your success, ma chere."

"I never dreamed of being nominated." A faint color stole into Alicia's pale face. "I'd much rather it had been one of you girls."

"I'm heartily glad I was out of it all," declared Jane with emphasis. "There's only one thing I really want this year in the way of college honors."

"To make the sophomore team?" asked Christine.

"Yes."

An eager light sprang into Jane's gray eyes.

"You'll make it, Jane," predicted Barbara. "You can outplay us all. Some of us are going to lose out, though. There are five of us here who are going to try for it. Judy, Adrienne, you, Christine and I. Of course we can't all make it. Quite a lot of sophs are going to try for it this year besides us. Marian Seaton will be one of them, I suppose."

"She'll make it, if any of her friends happen to be judges at the try-out," commented Judith sagely. "I hope Dorothy Martin will be chosen as one of the judges. She can be depended upon to do the fair thing. Miss Hurley was awfully unfair last year. I wish Dorothy'd be chosen as our manager."

"We ought to do a little practicing, girls," urged Jane. "Let's start in to-morrow afternoon, provided we can have the gym. I understand the freshman team have been monopolizing it ever since their try-out last week."

"Who's on the freshman team?" asked Ethel curiously.

"I don't know. Haven't been over to see them work," Jane replied. "Have any of you?" She glanced about the round table at her friends.

A general shaking of heads revealed the fact that no one had.

"It's queer, but somehow I can't get interested in the freshmen," confided Barbara Temple. "A lot of them acted awfully stand-offish toward me on the night of the dance."

"I noticed the same thing!" exclaimed Christine in surprise. "I thought it was my imagination. Those four girls you folks brought were sweet, though."

"They are dandy girls," interposed Judith hastily, and immediately launched forth in praise of the Bridge Street freshmen.

Though she could have very quickly explained the strained attitude of the freshman class to Christine and Barbara, she held her peace. She decided, however, to have a talk that night with Jane. It was not fair that these two loyal friends should be kept in the dark about what bade fair to affect them unpleasantly.

That she was not alone in her opinion became manifest when, toward nine o'clock, Alicia, Ethel, Adrienne, Jane and herself bade Christine and Barbara good night and went on across the campus toward Madison Hall.

"Jane," began Judith abruptly, "I think we ought to tell Christine and Barbara about that freshman business. I didn't want to say a word until I'd put it up to you girls."

"Yes, I suppose we ought to tell them." Jane spoke almost wearily. "I didn't say anything about it to-night because I hated to drag it all up again. If you see either of the girls to-morrow, Judy, you'd better explain matters. I don't want to. I'm sick of the whole business."

"I'm heartily sick of my roommate. I can tell you that," said Alicia. "If I had known when that girl walked into my room that she was Marian Seaton's cousin I should have refused to room with her. She's completely under Marian's thumb. Whatever Marian tells her to do she does. You'd think after what happened the other day that she'd be too angry ever to speak to me again. Well, she isn't. She tries to talk to me whenever we're together. She told me yesterday that I had made a terrible mistake in giving up Marian for you girls."

"Marian put her up to that," declared Judith.

"Of course she did," nodded Alicia. "Elsie had the nerve to tell me that Marian felt dreadfully over the horrid way I'd treated her. She blames Jane for it, and says she'll get even with her for it. I blame myself for being so hateful last year. Jane showed me how to be the person I'd always wanted to be, but was too cowardly then to be it."

"Jane is of us all the loyal friend," broke in Adrienne. "Sometimes she wears the fierce scowl and has the look of the lion, yet I am not afraid of her. See, even now she scowls, but she will not eat us. She scowls thus to hide the embarrassment."

The bright moonlight betrayed plainly the deep scowl between Jane's brows to which Adrienne had called attention.

"Imp, you're a rascal." Jane's brows immediately smoothed themselves. "You know altogether too much about me. I was embarrassed. That's a fact. What Alicia said made me feel rather queer because I don't think I deserved it. I can't be the person I want to be myself, let alone showing anybody else. That's what has been bothering me right along. I'd like to be able to rise above caring whether or not Marian Seaton tries to get even with me."

"You can't do it, Jane, and be just to yourself," Alicia said very positively. "I know Marian a great deal better than I wish I did. She'll never stop trying to work against you as long as you're both at Wellington. She'll never let a chance slip to make trouble for you. I'd advise you to be on your guard and the very next time she tries anything hateful, go to Miss Rutledge with the whole story of the way she's treated you ever since you came to college."

"I couldn't do that. Not for myself, I mean. If it were something hateful she'd done to one of you girls, I could. I would have truly gone to Miss Rutledge or even Prexy with that paper, because it was injurious to Judy and Imp; not because of myself."

"Never mind, Jane. I am here to protect you," Judith reminded gaily. "I'd fight for you as quickly as you'd fight for me. Just remember that."

Judith began the little speech lightly. She ended with decided purpose.

"I know it, Judy."

Walking as she was beside her roommate, Jane slipped an affectionate hand within Judith's arm.

"If Marian plays on the team with you girls, then look out," further advised Alicia. "She'll do something to stir up trouble, you may depend upon it. I know I'm croaking, but I can't help it."

"Wait till she makes the team," grinned Judith. "She may find herself outplayed at the try-out. If she does, little Judy won't weep. No, indeed. I'll give a grand celebration in honor of the joyful event."

"I, also, will shed few tears," Adrienne drily concurred. "Ah, but I shall look forward to that most grand celebration! So at last this very wicked Marian shall perhaps be the cause of some little pleasure to us."

Jane could not resist joining in the laugh that greeted this naÏve assertion. She wished she could feel as little concern about the matter as did Judith and Adrienne. Alicia's warning against Marian had taken hold on her more strongly than she could wish.

To Jane it seemed almost in the nature of a prophesy of disaster. She found herself inwardly hoping with her friends that Marian would not make the team. Instantly she put it aside as unworthy of what she, Jane Allen, desired to be. A good pioneer must forge ahead, surmounting one by one each obstacle that rose in the path. Again it came to Jane in that moment, out under the stars, that it could make no difference to her what Marian Seaton did or did not do to her, so long as she, an intrepid pioneer, steadily kept to work at clearing her own bit of college land.

She had earlier expressed this conviction to Dorothy. Later it had been swept away by bitter doubts as to whether she could continue to maintain a lofty indifference toward Marian's spiteful activities. Would she be obliged eventually to descend to Marian's level and fight her with her own weapons? She had more than once, of late, darkly considered the question. Now she knew that so long as Marian's spleen directed itself against her, and her alone, she could never do it. She would fight for her friends, but never for herself.