They had talked over the summer holidays quite thoroughly, when Beth brought up the subject of class elections.

“We want Dolly for president next year; we shall want Margaret as editor-in-chief of the Chronicle (the Chronicle was a college monthly managed entirely by the senior class, although contributions were frequently accepted from members of the other classes), we want Constance for class historian, too, and Mary ought to be on the executive committee; as we shall want so much then, I think that we had better keep in the background this year, don’t you?”

“Is that all you want, Beth?” Dolly questioned dryly.

Beth ignored the protests that Constance and Mary both were making regarding their fitness for the positions to which Beth wished them elected.

“I do not want too much, and I do not want more than I mean to get either! If we work for the other girls this year, they can afford to help us next. I was president last year, and of course I am still president for a few days yet. After I go out we will all keep in the background during this junior year, for really we are not pigs.”

“So glad you told us that; some people might think we were,” murmured Dolly. Beth gave her a vigorous pinch and went on calmly. “You girls are just the ones for the places I named, and we want our best material to the fore during our senior year. None of you have any special candidates at heart this year, have you?”

“I do not want to interfere with any of your plans for Dolly’s election next year, Beth, but I would be glad if Margery Ainsworth could be elected to one of the minor committees this year.”

“Now, in the name of common sense, why do you care about her?”

“I feel sorry for the girl, Beth. She is studying well now, she has no special friends, and a little honor like that would do her an immense amount of good.”

“Do you really like her, Con?”“I am not sure that her character is enough settled yet for me to say. Of course, I do not care for her as I do for you girls here, but I feel immensely sorry for her. Her pride is hurt continually. She will either develop into something strong and good, or else grow unlovable and unloving. Let us help her this wee bit, girls. Her pride is being wounded all of the time now, and a little recognition by her classmates may come at just the right time.”

“Oh, if you want us to do missionary work, Con, and put it on high moral grounds–”

“Be still. I just ask you to do a nice little thing for a girl who feels that she has no friends. And you will do it, too.”

“Will I?” and Beth looked mutinous. Constance smiled serenely. She was sure of Beth’s help when the time should come.

The girls all felt that the one who was made president, during this, their junior year, should be both capable and popular. Either Constance or Dolly could have been elected, had they so chosen, but Constance utterly refused to consider the matter, and Beth would not hear to Dolly’s being nominated. It ended with the election of Hope Brereton, and the “diggers” were not represented at all in the offices, with the exception of Beth, who was made chairman of the executive committee since she was the retiring president. Margery Ainsworth, to her own intense surprise and gratification, was put on the entertainment committee.

It did not take long for the girls to settle into their former grooves again. The old friendships were cemented, and some new ones were formed. Mary retreated again into her shell, and Dolly felt more than once like shaking her. In other ways Mary had improved materially. She could not afford handsome dresses, but those that she had, were becoming in color and soft in texture. Her hair was arranged to show its real beauty, and while she was far from being a pretty girl, she had a fine, intelligent face, and the promise of future beauty. She was looking forward to the time when she could teach, and earn money to lighten the burdens on that western farm.

Just before Thanksgiving time, the sophomores gave a little entertainment to the juniors. Mary came into Dolly’s room one day with a wry face. “I fear that I shall not be able to attend that entertainment which the sophomores are giving us.”

“I would like to know why?”

“We shall have to wear some sort of evening dress, I suppose, and the only thing that I have is my white.”

“That would be just the thing,” said Constance, who chanced to be present.

“It’s not very elegant, but it would do, only I have not got it. I sent it to Mrs. O’Flaherty three weeks ago to be laundered, and it hasn’t been sent back yet.”

“Write to her.”

“I have. I’ve sent her a dozen missives. But she does not answer.”

“Go and see her.”

“She lives too far away.”

“Then try one more note; make it pathetic and appealing and stern and threatening all in one. That will surely bring the dress.”

“Very well, I will.”

But as she was about to commence the note, Mary decided, that after all, she had better go herself. She dressed rapidly, and started out alone. Either Dolly or Beth would have gone with her willingly, but she would not ask them. Mrs. O’Flaherty lived at the farther side of Westover. Mary found herself out of breath and impatient when she reached there. She was about to knock when the door opened, and Constance came out, Mary’s dress in her arms.

“I was going to take the liberty of carrying your dress to a woman whom I know. She will do it up beautifully for you, even on this short notice. Mrs. O’Flaherty is ill–too ill to answer your notes or to think about your dress at all.”

“Then I had better go in and see her a moment.”

“You can do no good, I am sure.”

“Perhaps not, but still I will go in; if you can wait for me just a moment, I will relieve you of that bundle.”

“There is really nothing to be done, Mary, and Mrs. O’Flaherty is just falling asleep.”

Mary made no comment, but went directly in, taking care, however, to move more gently than usual. Mary was not a quiet person ordinarily, being the last one that an invalid would care to have in a sick room. She wondered angrily why Constance had tried to prevent her from entering. If she were as rich as Constance Van Gerder, she would do something for poor Mrs. O’Flaherty. She was too poor to do anything herself, but at least she could show a little sympathy! Full of indignation against Constance, Mary was pushing into the tiny house, when her way was suddenly barred.

Looking up, she recognized Dr. Leonard, the leading physician in Westover. “I cannot let you in, Miss Sutherland. Mrs. O’Flaherty has some kind of a low fever. I cannot tell just what it will develop into yet, but I could not allow you to run the risk of going in there.”

“But is there nothing I can do? The woman is so horribly poor. I’m not rich myself, but–”

“She will be all right now. Miss Van Gerder has gotten hold of her. She just chanced to learn today, that Mrs. O’Flaherty was ill, or she would have had me here before. You need not worry, Miss Sutherland. Miss Van Gerder will do all that is necessary. She has given me money for food, fuel and nurse. I can call upon her for as much more as I need. I wonder if you girls up at the college know half the good that Miss Van Gerder is doing with her wealth?”

“No, we don’t,” Mary said shortly, and then, ashamed of her curtness, she lingered to make some more inquiries.

Constance was waiting for her by the gate. Mary took the bundle from her arms, despite Constance’s remonstrances. “You are not going to carry my bundles, when I am along, at least. If you will tell me where that other woman lives of whom you were speaking just now, I will try to hunt her up.”

“I can take you there, but she lives on such a funny back street that I cannot well give you any directions.”

“How do you know all these people? I have never been to Mrs. O’Flaherty’s house before, and I should not have gone this time, if my dress had been sent home on time. Did you go because of what I said today? I would really like to know.” And Mary meant it.

“Yes, I suppose I did, but there is nothing very wonderful about that. I concluded that she must be sick or in trouble, when you failed to hear from her, so I looked her up.”

“And you, probably, had never heard of her before, while she has been doing my laundry work ever since I came to Westover. It strikes me that I have been both thoughtless and selfish.”

“You have been busy,” Constance said gently, “and then, in a certain sense, I feel as if these cases were my work just as much as Greek and History. Mother does not believe in indiscriminate giving. She believes in personal investigation as far as possible. That takes longer, of course, and is much more bother, but she has made me feel that I have no right to waste my money (even if I do have more than most girls), by a lazy way of giving. What I give carelessly to some unworthy person who asks aid, may really belong by right to someone else who is deserving and whom I would have found, had I investigated personally. Do you see what I mean? I cannot help everyone, and so where I do help, I want my money to do good, not harm.”“Your way must cost a great amount of time and trouble.”

“It often does, and that is my real, personal part of the giving. I cannot take credit to myself for giving the money which comes to me with no exertion on my part.”

“What shall you do when you are out of college and in society?”

“I never expect to be in society, as I suppose you understand that term. I have no particular fondness for receptions and germans and balls. One tires of it all fearfully soon. I shall do some sort of college settlement work, but I shall not undertake it until I feel better prepared than at present.”

“Dolly always said that I never knew anything about you, and she was right. In your place I know that I should just be getting all of the good times that I could for myself. I’m afraid that I should not care for much except the frivolous part of life. It is well that I am poor, and not likely to see much gaiety, because it has an irresistible attraction for me. You would not imagine it, would you?”But Constance could understand perfectly how Mary’s hard, prosaic life on the western farm had caused her to think with deep longing of the bright, fashionable world in which she had no part or lot. Constance’s comprehension was so perfect, and her sympathy so delicate, that Mary grew bitterly ashamed of the narrow feelings and jealousy which had marred all her sophomore year. There should be no more of it, she told herself sharply. Mary was not afraid to face facts when she once met them.

She owned, now, that she had been jealous of Dolly’s open admiration for Constance. Then she had called Constance proud and unfeeling. Who had stood Margaret Hamilton’s friend? Who was helping Margery Ainsworth to regain her self-respect? Who had gone to Mrs. O’Flaherty on the first hint of sickness? And had not the doctor declared that the college girls were ignorant of the greater part of her charitable deeds?

“I believe that I have been a big snob,” Mary told herself. “We can only be measured by our inclinations and our deeds. Certainly, even in proportion to my limited means, I have done far less good than Constance. It never occurred to me, for instance, to look up Mrs. O’Flaherty for her own sake, because she might be ill. I only thought of getting my dress.”

Mary never resorted to half-way measures. She now gave as frank and open admiration to Constance as did any of the “diggers;” Dolly and Beth rejoiced over her conversion.

But Beth said, “If she felt at all toward Constance as I now feel toward Margery Ainsworth, when I see Constance wasting her sweetness in that direction, I can sympathize with her. Mary was rather jealous of your affection for Constance, Dolly, and while I do not think that I myself am jealous, I surely hate to see Con lavishing time and patience on Margery.”

“You are sure it is wasted?”

“Yes, I am. Don’t forget that I was Margery’s room-mate. I flatter myself that I know about all that there is to know concerning that young lady.”

“Yet I think that Constance is a tolerably good judge of character. There must be latent possibilities in Margery which you have never discovered.”

Beth shook her head obstinately, but that very day proved the correctness of Dolly’s conclusions and made Beth resolve to be more charitable in her judgments.