It was obvious that poor little Alice was both homesick and lonely, and Marjorie's heart warmed toward her as it might to a lost child. She chatted pleasantly all through the intermission; then, securing her a partner for the next dance, she left with the promise to seek her again.
When the party was all over, and the tired sophomores were getting ready for bed, Marjorie, who still felt the sting of Ruth's taunt, remarked to Lily,
"Well, if we can't do our Good Turn for Frieda Hammer, we can do one right here for the new girls, to keep them from being homesick. I, for one, intend to try."
"I'm with you," agreed Lily, as she crawled into bed.
But Ruth Henry's last waking thoughts were of a different nature: how she might best succeed in gaining the class presidency for herself.
"If I go at the thing boldly," she decided, "there is no reason why I should fail. And I mean to do it, if I never accomplish another thing as long as I'm at Miss Allen's!"