Ruth had invited all twenty-five girls to her tea, although she and her room-mate, Evelyn Hopkins, scarcely hoped to be able to pack that number into their room. However, all did not accept the invitation; only fifteen or sixteen finally appeared.
Doris and Evelyn were passing sandwiches and cakes, while Ruth poured the cocoa. The conversation, which buzzed from groups in all parts of the room, was suddenly silenced by the hostess's general remark,
"Girls," she said, still standing beside the wicker tea-table in the corner, "I guess you wondered why I was in such a hurry to entertain you, but the fact is, I thought it would be nice to have a little informal discussion about class matters before the meeting to-night. Because we don't want to conduct our affairs just any old way, hit or miss; we want to make ours the best class ever!"
"Hurray!" cheered Doris; "you've surely got the right spirit, Ruth."
Encouraged by the applause of the president, Ruth continued,
"We want a good strong organization, to keep those freshies from getting their secret meeting, and electing a class president; we want an efficient president ourselves—not that we can ever get one as good as our last year's"—she smiled admiringly at Doris—"who will systematize the whole thing! What do you all think?"
"Good for you, Ruth!" cried Barbara Hill, a quiet little girl who had always admired Ruth's courage. "We want somebody that will put heart and soul into the job!"
"I don't think we ought to discuss each other now," explained Ruth; "that would be too embarrassing. But I just want everybody to think, and think hard, and not vote for a girl just because she's popular."
"I think Marj Wilkinson would be dandy!" remarked Anna Cane;—"by the way, she isn't here this afternoon, is she? I wonder why?"
Ruth felt a cold shiver pass over her; no matter how hard she tried to evade her, her old rival seemed to confront her upon every occasion. She had really planned the tea for a time when she knew Marjorie could not come, so that she might put her out of her classmates' minds; but here she seemed to appear in the spirit, as if to mock her! Was this fate—for the way she had treated Marjorie the previous year—or was it merely her own conscience that caused her to dread the mention of the other girl's name for honors that she coveted for herself?