“Have her elected,” said Betty, as promptly as if she had thought it all out beforehand.
“Then will you propose her?”
Betty shook her head. “That wouldn’t do. Eleanor knows how I feel toward her. It must come from the people who haven’t wanted her. They’re all here, I think.” Betty peered uncertainly through the gloom to make sure that Jean and her friends and the Blunderbuss were still out. “If the whole class wants her badly enough, they’ll think of her.”
Marie stepped out into the light of the one lantern and called the class to order. “It’s a queer time to have a class-meeting,” she said, “and I’m not sure that it’s constitutional, but who cares about that? You all know about Christy and as Bob Parker says the new toastmistress ought to have all the time there is left. So please make nominations.”
“Why don’t you appoint some one, Marie?” called Alice Waite sleepily.
“Because the toastmistress who presides over our supper ought to be the choice of her class,” said Marie firmly.
“Madam president,”—Jean Eastman’s clear, sharp voice broke the silence. “It’s a good deal to ask of any one, to step in at the last minute like this. Very few of us are capable of doing it,—of making a success of it, I mean. In fact I only know of one person that I should be absolutely sure of. Fortunately no one deserves such an appointment more truly. I nominate Eleanor Watson.”
A little thrill swept over the “queer” class-meeting. Everybody had known more or less about the bitter feud between Jean and Eleanor, and very few people had had the least suspicion that it had ended. Indeed even Betty and Eleanor had not been sure how far Jean’s friendliness could be counted upon. Betty, standing back in the shadows where Marie had left her, gave a little gasp of amazement and clutched Bob’s arm so hard that Bob protested.
“I second that motion, Miss President.” It was the Blunderbuss, and her stolid face grew hot and red in the darkness, as she wondered if any one who knew that she didn’t belong to 19— now would question her right to take part in the meeting. “But I was bound to do it,” she reflected. “I guess she isn’t the kind of girl I thought she was. Anyhow I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings before, and this will sort of make up.”
“Any other nominations?” inquired Marie briskly.