Reebald, ribald! Siss-boom-bah!
Wellington! Wellington! Rah! Rah!"
"I never thought we could do it," Drusilla Landers hissed into Jane's ear, as they filed out, at the same time giving her hand a congratulatory squeeze. "You have no idea how the opposition worked. We won by strategy--nothing else. They had us beaten in point of numbers two to one. But they never got a chance to poll a vote."
"Nor to candy a candidate," assisted Jane, with a school girl's delightful disregard of common sense English.
"But they will make us pay for our victory," forecast the sage Drusilla.
"We put it over this time, and we have right on our side," orated Jane. "No need to climb the steeple until the flagpole sags."
"Oh, our colors are flaunting to-night!" Drusilla made Jane hear, her eyes sparkling with well-earned satisfaction.
"Ummmm!" Jane reciprocated the long "M" like a whisper through the pines, serving to express more with its hum, than might have a whole paragraph of mere ordinary cut out words.
In the day's records no mention is made of the lecture. But it was delivered, and the class attended, so the "condition" was met, if not entirely appreciated. Sleep itself had to fight for its honors on that night in Wellington.