But before Lily could reply, the orchestra, three players who came from the city, entered the room, and Marjorie hurried over to give them the final directions. When she turned around again, Lily had vanished; but near her stood Ruth Henry, her old friend from her home town, who had played the part of jealous rival ever since the girls had been at Miss Allen's.
"Hello, Marj!" She greeted her with the old familiarity; indeed, the girls were good friends now, in spite of all that had happened the previous year. "Your dress is sweet," she added.
"I'm glad you like it, Ruth. Yours is a dream, too!"
Ruth sat down on a chair near-by, and beckoned Marjorie to sit beside her.
"The freshies aren't here yet," she remarked. "We might as well rest. I want to ask you something."
Marjorie complied with her request as far as her physical presence was concerned. But her eyes wandered from one place to another over the room, reviewing the effect, and her mind was drifting from what Ruth was saying. But the latter hardly noticed her preoccupation, so intent was she upon her own interests.
"Listen, Marj!" She reduced her voice to an intimate tone. "Have you thought about our class president?"
"Our president?"
"Yes—not Doris Sands—of course, she is still president; but what I mean is—our next president!"
"No, I haven't," replied Marjorie, absently. "I never gave it a thought. Why?"