"But what is this all about?" gasped Sally, a little bit frightened at the importance of the great sheaf of yellow blooms propped up in the corner.
"You are to present the flowers to Deanie," said Nellie. "You see, the girls always give her something at this dance, and they choose the freshies just to act in the capacity of page. You don't have to say a word," as Sally showed reticence. "A senior makes a speech and you just walk up prettily with this corn shock."
"Oh, girls, I couldn't," exclaimed Sally tragically.
"You couldn't! Why not?" came a chorus.
"Because—oh, I can't just explain, but won't you please excuse me?"
"No, indeed we will not," declared Nellie. "Just another touch of that timidity we fought out when you first came. This is an honor, Sally, and we know whom to choose for it. We know how you stand in the half year's record," and she proceeded to straighten out the maline butterfly on Sally's shoulders—no one could seem to resist that temptation.
"I do appreciate the honor," faltered Sally, "but there is a reason- -a serious reason why I feel I should decline."
"Wait a minute! I'll persuade her," said Dolly, and in the time specified she was back in the corner again and had Jane with her.
"She simply has got to deliver those flowers," explained Nellie. "She matches as if she were dressed for the part. See her yellow head, her yellow and white gown, the dear little golden slippers; then the great huge, gigantic bunch of chrysis—we all chipped in for those—"
"Miss Allen, please let me off," begged Sally, turning two blue eyes, overflowing with meaning, full on Jane.