The faces of the tellers told nothing as they entered the room, carrying the little slip of paper that meant so much to these Freshmen. The chairman rapped loudly for order, and a pin could have been heard drop while the result was read:

“We’ll have to take another ballot,” Beth said in a low tone excitedly. “How close it is! Oh, Dolly, I do hope that you will get it.”

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 class 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 class? 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 greatfund 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 assistance 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 classical 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 class 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 Class ’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.”