She looked around with a gasp of surprise, and then rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. All of her own dainty trifles were back in place. Every vestige of the obnoxious red decorations had vanished.

Dolly felt a sudden moisture in her eyes. The poor girl! She knocked lightly on Miss Sutherland’s door. There was a faint stir inside, but no response. Dolly hesitated, and then boldly opened the door.

“Excuse me, please, for coming in when you did not ask me to, but I was sure you were here, and you must come down to dinner at once.”

“I am not going down tonight.”

“Indeed you are,” Dolly said, after one comprehensive look at the mottled, tear-stained face before her. “The students must all be on hand promptly for meals. I cannot take you to my table, for that is full now, and we have been given our permanent places for the term, but I will introduce you to Professor Newton; there is a vacant place at her table, I know. You will like her, I am sure.”

Miss Sutherland gave her room-mate a curious look, started to say something, changed her mind, and then got up from the bed and commenced to brush her hair back with nervous, impatient fingers.

“Don’t do that,” Dolly ejaculated suddenly, “can’t you see how much better you look when your hair lies loosely, so as to soften the outlines of your face? Here, give me the brush.”

She took the brush and comb from Miss Sutherland’s hand, pushed her down into a chair, and worked rapidly for two or three minutes. “There, the last bell will ring in a second and there is no time to fuss with it longer tonight, but can’t you see how much better it looks? You have such lovely hair that it is too bad to spoil it.”

“Mother always liked it combed straight back,” was all Miss Sutherland vouchsafed, speaking in a very distant tone.

Dolly flushed. Would she never learn to be less impetuous, she wondered, and to mind her own business? She felt like a child of three, whose ears had been soundly boxed.

“There was no need, Miss Sutherland, for you to change the arrangement of the sitting-room. Of course you have rights there as well as I.” The matter had better be settled now, Dolly thought, at once and forever. “I suppose red and pink would hardly answer in the same room at the same time, but we might agree on some third color together, and you fix part of the room and I part, or else you could have charge of the sitting-room one month and I the next. Which plan would you prefer?”

Dolly listened anxiously for the reply. It did not seem probable that her room-mate would feel that she could afford to buy new furnishings, and how could Dolly ever stand the red atrocities for five months, even if her beloved belongings were to be used for the other five?

There was no hesitancy in Miss Sutherland’s answer. “I can’t afford to waste any more money on things for my room, and I shan’t put up my mother’s work for those fools to laugh at, so I guess the sitting-room, as you call it, will likely stay as it is.”

Dolly felt uncomfortable. Miss Sutherland had a way of putting things that made one seem very small. It was clear, from the tone of her voice, that she worshiped her mother, and Dolly could see how the ridicule of her mother’s handiwork had hurt the girl’s feelings.

“You must remember,” she said gently, “that the sitting-room is as much yours as mine. Forgive me if I had seemed to take complete possession of it before you came.”

“That won’t matter, I guess; I don’t suppose I shall be in it much, anyway. I don’t seem to belong there.”

The dinner-gong sounded at that moment, and Miss Sutherland went into the hall, Dolly following in a very perturbed frame of mind. “I will take you to Professor Newton now,” she remarked as they reached the dining-room door.

“I don’t reckon that you need to, I know Professor Newton,” Miss Sutherland returned, with the queer little smile that Dolly again failed to note.“Oh, you met her when you came, did you? Good-bye, then, for a few minutes,” and Dolly crossed the room to Miss Randall’s table, where Elizabeth was waiting for her. Their seats were next each other, and after the meal had fairly commenced, Dolly told her all that had transpired up in her room.

Elizabeth gave a soft whistle. “I pity you, my dear; you see you have a tender conscience, and you are going to bother yourself about Miss Sutherland all of the time. Now, if I were you, I should never give her another thought, especially as your room has returned to its normal condition.”

“You slander yourself,” Dolly retorted, “didn’t you act the part of a good Samaritan to me?”

“Oh, you–you are different! Don’t you know that you are going to be one of the most popular girls here? You are pretty and bright, and friendly with everyone.”

“Hush up, Beth.”

“How came you to call me that?”

Elizabeth’s tone was queer, and Dolly turned to look at her.

“‘Beth,’ do you mean? It is often a nickname of Elizabeth, you know, and I have always loved the name since the days of Miss Alcott’s ‘Little Women.’ Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, I like it, but no one has called me by it for years, and when you said it just now, I felt absolutely startled.”

“I will not use it again if you would rather I did not.”

“I would rather that you did, however,” and then Elizabeth joined in the general conversation around the table. Dolly wondered if she did it to avoid further questioning.

The college soon settled down to the regular routine of work. Before a month had passed, the Freshmen knew who their best students were, and who stood a chance of being elected class officers. The other three classes had held their elections at the end of the first fortnight, their old officers holding over until that time.

It was an unwritten law, however, that the Freshmen should wait for their class elections until Thanksgiving time; that would afford opportunity for them to get acquainted with each other, and to determine who were the most suitable candidates.

It was an all-important subject in the eyes of the Freshmen, and so, not unnaturally, Beth and Dolly were discussing it one day as they took their usual walk.

“I believe that Margaret Hamilton will be elected president,” predicted Dolly. “She is so tall and handsome, she would be such a magnificent president.”

“She knows it,” returned Beth dryly. “She has been posing for it ever since the term opened. She dresses for it, talks for it, and is always working for it–not openly, but in a hundred little subtle ways.”

“You don’t like Margaret.”

“Not to any great extent, I’ll confess. I would much rather see you class president.”

“Me? I haven’t any dignity, and you know it.”

“Well, you have other qualifications that are quite as desirable.”

“I’m out of the question, so stop talking about it. There goes Miss Hamilton now. I wonder why she always turns down that lane? It is a private one, you know, and I’m sure she has no permission to go to the house every day.”“I’m positive she doesn’t even know the people,” Beth said, staring after her classmate. “I am consumed with curiosity. What do you suppose she does want, anyway?”

“I have not the faintest idea, and I really do not suppose that it concerns us, anyway. What do you think?”

“Don’t be snubby! Margaret Hamilton is queer in some ways, though none of you seem to have discovered it but myself.”

“That simply shows what an imagination you have. I must go into the library now and scribble a note to Fred. I don’t see when you get your home letters written, Beth. I must send one to Father and Mother twice a week, or they would think that I was sick and rush on here: and Fred, off at Harvard, demands one just as often. I told him that I would write as long as he did, but that when he commenced to shirk on his letters to me, I would stop. So far he has done remarkably well, and Mother likes me to write him often, not mere notes, you know, but long, chatty letters; she thinks that home-letters help to keep boys out of temptation.”

“I presume they do,” said Beth soberly, as if struck by a new thought. “Possibly it would not hurt me to write to Roy, he is off at a preparatory school.”

“Have you a brother? I didn’t know it.”

“I have not been much more communicative than Margaret Hamilton, have I? But I hardly imagine that our reasons are the same for keeping so quiet: If there is time after our letters are finished, I’ll give you a biographical sketch of our family. Roy is my half brother, I have no own brothers or sisters.”

And then Beth commenced to talk of something else as if she repented her momentary confidence, and the girls went in to write their letters.

Beth finished first. “There, the surprise that will strike Roy when he reads that letter may bring on an apoplectic fit. ’Twill be the very first letter he ever had from me.”

“Has he been away from home long?”

“This is his second year. I believe that you are aware of the fact that I live in Philadelphia. Father is a lawyer, and he isn’t a poor one, either. He makes considerable money, but I have my own money that was my mother’s.”“Have you any other brothers beside Roy?”

“As I said, I haven’t any brothers or sisters really. Roy is ten, Hugh is eight, and Nell is three. I think Roy is far too young to send away to school, and I know that his mother is of the same opinion. But Father seemed to think that it was best.”

“What do you call your stepmother, Beth?”

“I do not think I ever called her anything in speaking to her. Of course, I call her Mrs. Newby when I allude to her, but that is very seldom.”

“Isn’t she nice, Beth? I don’t mean to be impertinent, but you know that I care for you a great deal, and I cannot help feeling concerned about everything regarding you.”

“You couldn’t be impertinent if you tried, Dolly, and I would answer your question if I could. I really don’t know how she would appear to an outsider. You must go home with me sometime and judge for yourself. She is a perfect lady, and that is about all that I feel qualified to say.”

Beth had talked all that she cared to on the subject, and Dolly wisely let the matter drop. Beth had told her no more than any mere acquaintance of the family’s could have repeated. She had let Dolly know something about her family, but nothing about her feelings. It was months before the subject ever came up again.

As Thanksgiving time approached, the Freshmen became very much excited over the approaching election. Several girls were mentioned in connection with the class presidency, notably Margaret Hamilton and Dolly herself. Abby Dunbar and Grace Chisholm would also be candidates in all probability.

Beth was intensely interested over the affair, and Dolly suspected her of doing considerable electioneering. It became more and more evident, as the time drew nearer, that Miss Hamilton and Dolly Alden would poll the most votes. Dolly tried to keep cool and unconcerned. It was a great surprise to her that her name should even be mentioned in this connection.

“But you would like it–you know you would like it!” insisted Beth as they went over the question for the final time in Dolly’s room. That was at noon on Monday, the election would be held that evening.“Why, yes,” said Dolly honestly, “I would like it if it comes to me naturally, but I will not beg any of the girls to vote for me. That would spoil it all. If the girls prefer Miss Hamilton, she ought to be elected. She would make a much better presiding officer than I.”

“I don’t think so, do you, Miss Sutherland?” and Beth turned to Dolly’s room-mate who was the only other person present.

Dolly broke in impetuously. “Don’t ask Mary embarrassing questions. She doesn’t have to vote for me just because we chance to room together, and, of course, she knows that Miss Hamilton would make a better president than I. By the way, why don’t you two drop formality and say ‘Elizabeth’ and ‘Mary?’ It is quite time you did so.”

“I shall be very glad to do so, if I may be permitted,” Beth said. Then as she caught a slight smile on Mary’s face, she added, “Very well, that weighty matter is settled for the remainder of the college course. You see, I did not dare to say ‘Mary’ so familiarly to one who is such a wonderful scholar in biology as you.”“That is the only thing I do know, so please do not make fun of me.”

“Gracious, I would never dare to make fun of you! We all hold our breath with awe when you recite. Really, Mary, don’t look so hurt and annoyed. We do admire you tremendously. That is such an unusual branch for a girl to fancy.”

“You had better talk about the class election, I think,” said Mary decidedly.

“Why? do you think it will be close?”

“Miss Hamilton’s friends are working hard. Lots of the girls had no special preferences, but I think all of those will vote for Miss Hamilton now.”

Beth groaned. “I am an idiot to sit still here. I shall go right out in the highways and byways of this building, and see if I cannot accomplish something myself.”

“You will stay here, Beth.”

“I will not.”

In the midst of the good-humored scrimmage that followed, the lunch-gong sounded, and the girls hurried to their rooms to freshen up a wee bit before going to the dining-room.

It was apparent early in the evening that Miss Hamilton’s friends felt confident of victory. Their plans were well laid, and one of their number was promptly elected chairman.

The preliminary business was gotten out of the way very speedily. Margaret Hamilton was nominated for the class president by Florence Smith. Beth nominated Dolly, and then Abby Dunbar, Grace Chisholm and Bessie Worth were quickly nominated by their friends. The tellers distributed papers and pencils and the balloting commenced.

Dolly found herself actually trembling with excitement. What fun it would be if she could telegraph to Fred and sign her name, “Dorothy Alden, President, Class ’09.”

“I wish I were one of those tellers,” murmured Beth. “It is simply maddening to sit here and do nothing. Hush, there they come, Dolly. Oh, I do hope that you were elected.”