As Senior President, Lois was a decided failure. It was not through any lack of interest on her part in the class and its affairs, but rather because the fairies at her christening had failed to bestow upon her the gift of leadership with which Polly was so richly endowed.

She just couldn't think of the hundred and one practical things that needed attending to. Perhaps Miss Crosby was partly to blame. She had taken a decided interest in Lois from their meeting on the stairs, and had given her permission to use the studio at any time. She had criticized her work and gave her helpful points not infrequently in her own room, where Lois often dropped in at tea time.

But progress in art, though beneficial to Lois, was of no use to the Senior class. Polly was at her wit's end. Lois had called a class meeting the day before and forgotten to come to it. School had been running smoothly for over a month by now, and all the strangeness of the first few weeks had worn off. With Thanksgiving in sight, the girls felt that they were well into the year.

To-day was Friday. After dinner the election for the basket ball captain was scheduled and nothing was arranged.

Polly, after looking in the gym and some of the classrooms for Lois, returned to Senior Alley. She was excited about the election, but she was more deeply concerned about Lois. She was thinking and she walked slowly in consequence. As she entered the corridor Dot Mead's voice, high pitched and angry, made her stop abruptly.

"Not a thing planned, the slips not ready, and here it is Friday afternoon. Lois wasn't like this last year. If she accepted the office of president why doesn't she act up to it! Why, even the Freshmen are criticizing." Her voice subsided into a grumble of displeasure.

Polly shook her head slowly and went quietly into her own room. The Dorothys were growling as usual. She had to admit that this time there was a little cause, too.

What had come over Lois. Polly realized with a sudden drawing together of her eyebrows, that she was seeing less and less of her all the time. "Art!" she said, aloud, and laughed. Then she went out to find Betty.

"Something's got to be done," she announced, when she found her with Angela, "and we've got to do it. Ange, you print the notice of the election in red ink, and put it on the bulletin board. And, Bet, you make the ballot box. There's a big square wooden box under my bed—you can cut a hole in it. I'll go and find Phylis and Jane and get them to help me tear up paper slips. They'll love it, and they'll keep quiet about it."

"What'll we tell the rest?" Angela asked. "They ought to appreciate our saving them this trouble, but they won't," she added dryly.

Polly hesitated a moment.

"We'll post a notice on the board for a meeting to be held at two fifteen," she said boldly.

"But it's three o'clock," Angela protested, but Betty understood.

"I'm ashamed of your deceit, Polly," she said with pretended scorn, adding: "It's a bully idea."

"No, it's not; I hate it; it's really a written fib, but— Well, I'd do a lot more than that for Lo," Polly answered.

"Do you mean put up the sign so that the other girls will think we had a meeting, and they didn't come?"

Angela was flabbergasted at the idea.

"Exactly."

"Oh, I see. They'll be awfully cross we didn't send for them, and I love the two Dorothys when they're mad. But, Poll, for goodness' sake give Lois a lecture; we don't want this to happen too often, one fib's enough," she finished with a yawn. "Now, I'll go paint the sign."

Jane and Phylis were only too anxious to help make the slips—hero worship shone from their eyes as they took the sample from Polly.

"Aren't you excited?" Phylis asked. "Landy, I'd be standing on my head if I thought—" She stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Phylis' frank adoration really amused Polly. She found it very hard sometimes to face it with the proper Senior dignity. The excited little Freshman reminded her of herself at the same age. She almost wished the youngsters could make the sub team as she and Lois had done.

"I'm not excited, because I don't think I have much chance," she answered, which was exactly what both girls had expected her to say.

"Bring those slips down to my room when you've finished, and don't say that you helped, will you? It wouldn't do for any one to think that the Seniors had favorite helpers," she said as she left them.

After she had gone, Jane and Phylis locked their door and talked in whispers, while they worked.

Polly went down stairs, printed out the notice of the class meeting and pinned it on the bulletin board. She had an uncomfortably guilty feeling, tinged with pride and a certain amount of satisfaction when it was up. For it took real courage for Polly to lie, even for Lois. Then she went to Betty's room, helped her with the box and did several other things.

It was time to dress for dinner before she returned to her room. She was brushing her hair before the dresser when Lois burst in upon her.

"Polly!" she exclaimed. "Isn't this awful! I forgot about to-night and all the things there were to do. I was painting in the studio—oh, a duck of a picture, the corner of the house that you see from the window, and I forgot all about the time. What, under the sun, will I do?"

Polly's chance had come, and she had no intention of letting it escape her.

"Rather late to do anything, don't you think?" she asked indifferently, still brushing her hair.

Lois was taken by surprise. "But, Poll, you've got to help me," she begged, "think how furious the Dorothys will be."

"Can you blame them?" Polly held her brush in mid air. "As an organized and governing class we are rather a joke, and the Dorothys don't like to be laughed at," she finished, cuttingly.

This was too much for Lois. She had been working hard all afternoon over her picture and she was tired. She threw herself down on her bed and burst into tears.

"Polly," she sobbed, "don't act like that. I know I'm no good as a president. I'll resign to-night, only—oh, dear—" The rest was muffled in the pillow.

Polly made a start forward, stopped, made a last effort to be severe, and gave in.

"Lois, dear, don't," she pleaded, kneeling beside the bed, "don't cry any more, sit up and listen to me. Everything's all right." Lois dabbed at her eyes. "We've had a class meeting, the box is ready, the slips are fixed and the notice is up. We're supposed to have had a meeting, that is, I put a sign up that there'd be one at two-fifteen, only—" Polly hesitated. "I put it up at three o'clock. The Dorothys and Evelin and Helen will think we had it without them."

"Polly!" Lois was beginning to understand. "You deliberately did that to save me. You darling, I promise I'll resign to-night."

"Resign!" Polly stood up, a sparkle in her eye. "Lois Farwell, if you resign, I'll never, never speak to you again. I mean it."

Lois was apparently frightened into submission, for she said:

"All right, Poll, I won't." Very meekly.

That evening the two Dorothys were astonished and not a little put out with the ease with which the election was gone through with. They had seen the class meeting sign, and with Evelin and Helen accepted it without a doubt, which added considerably to Polly's discomfort.

Lois, now that she was really awake to the necessity, acted the part of senior president, and announced and directed, quite properly.

The votes were cast in the Assembly Hall. Each girl wrote the name of her choice for captain on a slip of paper and put it in the box. Then, all the girls who had been on the big team the year before, with the assistance of the Seniors, counted the votes.

The whole thing on this particular evening was gone through with in deadly silence, which was nerve racking, particularly to Polly. Not for worlds would she have confessed what it meant to her, but ever since her Freshman year, she had wanted to be captain. She had condemned the wish as foolish, but she had continued to hope.

After what seemed an endless wait, the names were sorted and counted, written on a sheet of paper and presented to Lois. She looked at it, gave a shout of joy, jumped up from her seat, and then, remembering the two Dorothys' love of form, she said quietly: "I have the honor to announce that Polly Pendleton has won the election by a sweeping majority."

And so it happened—

When the school heard it a little later everybody said:

"Why, of course. We knew it; no one else had a chance," and hurried to Polly to congratulate her. She said: "Thank you" to them all, and tried hard to fight down the silly, but uncontrollable longing to cry.

Lois slipped away the very first chance she got and went down stairs. On her way she met Betty.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

Lois smiled, mysteriously.

"To send a telegram to Bob," she answered. "He made me promise I would."

The next day at luncheon, Polly found a yellow envelope at her place at table.

"What under the sun!" she demanded, looking at it. "Who do you suppose it's from?"

"Opening it would be a good way to find out," Betty suggested.

Polly tore open the envelope.

"Why it's from Bob! Lois, you wretch, listen!"

And she read the message. "Lois wired me the good news. Hearty congratulations, and good luck. Bob."

"Don't call me a wretch." Lois protested, with a wicked grin. "Bob made me vow I'd wire him the minute little Polly was elected."

For the rest of the meal Polly was teased unmercifully.

After school the three held council, while she took down Lois' Princeton banner—for a week was up—and triumphantly put up her own.

"I don't envy you your job, Polly," Betty began, "who are you going to choose for your team?"

"Isn't it a blessing the Dorothys don't play?" Lois laughed, "or we'd have to have them."

"Why the main team is easy," Polly said. "There's you and Bet, and Evelin and myself already on it, and all Seniors; that only leaves two more to choose, and they'll have to be Juniors. Let's get Evelin and go over to the gym and see what's doing."

They found sweaters and caps, called Evelin, and started off. Angela met them on the way.

"I'm going, too," she insisted; "even if I can't play, my advice is invaluable."

When they reached the gym a game was under way, and much to their surprise, Fanny Gerard was in the thick of it.

"Jemima! look at that!" Betty exclaimed, as she made a difficult basket. "Now who'd have thought it!"

They had not seen much of Fanny in the last month. They had no idea she had taken their ridicule to heart. She had rebelled against it at first, and then, gradually, other interests had blotted out her resentment. Lately she had been playing basket ball every day.

Evelin was the only one of the girls watching who was not surprised.

"She's the right build," she said, "and I know she's been at it all the time—but, of course, she doesn't expect to make the team."

"She ought to. Look at that!" Lois drew attention to another play. "Imagine any one apparently as slow and dreamy as she is, playing such a rattling game. Let's put her down for a sub, anyway."

Polly, who had not been paying much attention to the rest, said suddenly:

"We'll have to put her on the main team. We need two girls, and there's only one other Junior besides Fanny who can play, and that's Eleanor Trent. She was on the team at the school where she went last year. There she is, the girl with the auburn hair. She's used to boys' rules, but otherwise she's a good player."

"Jemima! two new girls!" Betty said dolefully. "Well, it can't be helped. Certainly the old ones are a hopeless lot."

"When do we tell them?" Evelin inquired. "Let's do it now. Goodness! I remember how thrilled I was when I was put on last year."

"Let's call them out of the game; that'll make them feel so important," Lois suggested.

So Polly asked permission from Miss Stewart, the gym teacher, and Fanny and Eleanor came over to them.

Polly, as captain, told them they had been chosen for the big team. Eleanor had rather expected it. She was a good player, but she was delighted and promised to try and make good.

But Fanny! No words can express her excited raptures. She couldn't believe her good luck, and she sent the girls into peals of laughter by solemnly asking Polly to take her oath on it.

"I knew she'd be rare," Betty exclaimed on their way back to school. "I was sure she'd weep for joy."

"I hope it's all right," Lois said, doubtfully. "I wish she wasn't quite so excitable." Lois played basket ball with her head.

"Oh, she'll be all right if she doesn't go at it too hard," Polly said, assuringly. "Wonder if we have any mail?" She stopped before the Senior letter box. "One for you, Lo, from your mother, and one for me. Let's go in English room and read them. Mine's from Bob."

The other girls found their mail, and went up to their rooms.

Lois and Polly, left alone, opened their letters and read them through.

"Mother's is awfully short," Lois said, before Polly had finished hers. "She says she knows something awfully nice that's going to happen Thanksgiving, but she has promised Bob not to tell. What's yours about?"

"Oh, Lo! poor Bobbie has sprained his ankle and he can't run any more." Polly's voice trembled. "I'll read you what he says:

"Dear Old Polly:

"Telegraphing congratulations is no good. It costs too much to be eloquent. Besides, I've a lot of things I want to say, but, first of all, Three Cheers for you. Seddon Hall is darn lucky to have such a corking little captain—and you'll lead them to victory and have your name on the cup. Make them put it on extra large."