“Madam president,” she began, and waited formally for recognition.
“Oh, I say, it’s awfully late,” said somebody. “I’ve got five recitations to-morrow.”
This speech and the laugh that followed it put new vigor into the Champion’s purpose. “I hope I am not trespassing on any one’s time unduly,” she said, “by stating that—I dislike to say it here, but it has been forced upon me. I don’t think Miss Watson is the girl to hold 19—’s offices. Miss Wales said that we stood for fair play.” The Champion took her seat ponderously.
The room was very still. Marie sat, nonplused, staring at the Champion’s defiant figure. Madeline’s hands were clenched angrily. “I’d like to knock her down, the coward,” she muttered to Betty, who was looking straight ahead and did not seem to hear.
Hardly a minute had gone by, but more slowly than a minute ever went before, when Eleanor was on her feet. She had grown suddenly white, and her eyes had a hunted, strained look. “I quite agree with Miss Harrison,” she said in clear, ringing tones, her head held high. “I am not worthy of this honor. I withdraw my name, and I ask Miss Ayres, as a personal favor, to substitute some one’s else.”
Eleanor sat down, and Marie wet her lips nervously and looked at Madeline. “Please, Miss Ayres,” she begged.
“As a personal favor,” returned Madeline slowly, “because Eleanor Watson asks me, I substitute”—she paused—“Christy Mason’s name. I am sure that Miss Mason will allow it to be used, as a personal favor to every one concerned.”
“Indeed I——” began Christy impetuously. Then she met Eleanor’s beseeching eyes. “Very well,” she said, “but every one here except Miss Harrison knows that Miss Watson would be far better.”
It took only a minute to elect Christy and adjourn the ill-fated meeting.
“I thought she’d feel like hurrying home,” said Katherine sardonically, as the Champion, very red and militant, rushed past her toward the door.