There were no longer separate groups, shy and a little suspicious of each other: they were one class. They had elected a president. She was the president of all alike.
At the same instant they all burst forth into the same song:
“Oh, here’s to Morning Glory,
Drink her down!
Oh, here’s to Morning Glory,
Drink her down!
Oh, here’s to Morning Glory,
Whom we’ll love till we are hoary;
Drink her down, drink her down,
Drink her down, DOWN, down!
Balm of Gilead, Gilead,
Balm—Of—Gilead—
Way down on the Bingo Farm!”
And then they turned and looked at each other with wonder, for the little rhyme in the middle had come with unanimous harmony to all, and each had sung this cheer song just as loudly as she could, although a few minutes before many would have said they didn’t even know the tune.
Peggy was thrilled to her finger tips. She squeezed Katherine’s arm. Gloria’s beauty and ability had been enhanced twenty fold, for every girl present, by this spontaneous tribute. And Peggy could think of nothing more desirable in the world than that she should some time hear this song laden with her own name.
The other officers were elected with expedition, the vice-presidency being offered to Myra Whitewell, who indignantly refused it, declaring she would be first or nothing—thus maintaining a single discordant note in the general happiness and good humor. The despised office was then hesitatingly tendered to Florence Thomas, who was almost too pleased to speak, but made the remark in acceptance that this office, while still too big for her, was nearer her size and she’d do just everything she could to deserve their trust and faith in her.
Myra Whitewell edged her way out of the room, with a slight sneer distorting her pretty lips.
But Florence shook hands with all who came forward and received their kisses with pleasure that made every one love her.
The class went singing home in every direction from its election. An enormous hysterically happy crowd flocked in the wake of Gloria. Peggy and Katherine were in the outskirts of this crowd, and they looked from the heroine of their making into each other’s radiant faces.
“Well, thank goodness, her looks elected her,” sighed Peggy thankfully. “As soon as I thought of a ‘seeing is believing’ test, I knew we’d won.”