There was silence and then somebody began to clap. In a minute the whole meeting was clapping as hard as it could.
“I guess we don’t need ballots,” said Marie, when she could be heard. “All in favor say aye.”
There was a regular burst of ayes.
“Those opposed?”
Silence again.
“There’s a unanimous vote for you,” cried Bob Parker eagerly. “Speech from the candidate! Betty, you’re killing my arm!”
“Speech!” The class took up Bob’s cry.
“Where are you, Eleanor?” called Marie, and Eleanor, coming out from behind a big bush said, “I’ll try to do my best—and—thank you.” It wasn’t a brilliant speech to come from the girl who has often been called Harding’s most brilliant graduate, but it satisfied everybody, even Betty.
“I did it just to show you that I’ve got the idea,” Jean Eastman muttered sulkily, jostling Betty in the crowd; and that was satisfactory too. Indeed when Betty went to bed that night she confided to the green lizard that she hadn’t a single thing left to bother about at Harding.