Serena gasped.
“Me?” she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured correctness of speech. “Me? President?”
“Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to be rich—I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can elect you and we will. Isn't it splendid? I'm SO proud to be the one to bring you the news!”
There was one strong qualification possessed by Mrs. Dott which the bearer of good news omitted to mention. Serena was supposed to be Annette Black's most devoted friend. Announcement of her candidacy would have the effect of splitting the Black party in twain. Mrs. Lake and her followers were very much aware of this, although their spokeswoman said nothing about it.
“You'll accept, of course,” gushed Mrs. Lake. “Of course you will. I shall be so proud to vote and work for you.”
Serena hesitated. The honor of being president of her beloved Chapter was a dazzling prospect. And yet—and yet—
“You will, won't you?” begged the caller.
“No,” said Serena. “No, Mrs. Lake, I can't. I could not run against Annette Black. She is my best and dearest friend. If it were not for her I should not have come to Scarford at all. It would be treachery of the meanest kind. No, Mrs. Lake, I am not that kind of a friend. No.”
“But—”
“Please don't speak of it again. I am ashamed even to hear you. Let's talk of something else.”