And there was only a tiny group that broke away from the main body and went home in the sulks because Nancy had won the race. Of course this was the Montgomery clique.
“I can tell you right now who won’t be president of our class,” whispered Jennie to Cora Rathmore before the latter got away in Grace Montgomery’s train.
“I suppose you think Nancy Nelson will!” snapped Cora.
It was the first time the idea had come into Jennie’s mind.
It was only three days before the breaking up for the holidays. Everybody was so enthusiastic about Nancy, that Jennie’s work was half done for her.
To see the quietest girl in the school, yet the one who stood highest in her own class, praised and fêted by the seniors, made Nancy’s fellow-classmates consider her of more importance than ever before.
So Jennie’s work was easy. She went among the freshies and whispered—first to one alone, then to two together, then to little groups. And the burden of her tale was always the same:
“The Madame will stand for her—you see! She’s the best little sport there is in the class. She’s scarcely had a mark against her, yet she’s no goody-goody.
“See how she stood for those other girls who treated her so meanly—and never opened her mouth. Why, the Madame could have burned her at the stake and Nance would never have said a word to incriminate that Montgomery crowd.
“And there won’t be a teacher to object. She’s on all their good books. Me? Of course I’ve an axe to grind,” and Jennie laughed. “She’s my roommate, and if she gets the ‘high hat’ I’ll hope to bask in her reflected glory.”