Behind her came the band, a ten-piece organization composed of one bugle, two accordions, two drums, one cornet, three combs and a hand organ. On each side of the procession walked the torch bearers lighting the impressive pageant with cat-tail torches. The dark-faced organ grinder in an old black velvet coat and blue overalls and fierce outstanding mustache closely resembled Calista Wilmot. He enthusiastically ground out a program of “Suwanee River,” “Annie Laurie,” “Get Out and Get Under,” and “Do You Love Me, Honey?” while the rest of the band accompanied him with deafening zest.
Sauntering along behind this commotion and seemingly quite unruffled by it were no less than Uncle Sam, George Washington and Christopher Columbus. Their appearance on the campus was the signal for shrieks of mirth and they were hailed with the familiarity accorded to old friends. The parade circled Hamilton Hall three times then trailed down the main campus drive and rested there while the band gave an ear-splitting concert.
At the last the push cart detail tired of their hard but honored task and flatly refused to take the candidates a step further. The squabble ended by the squabblers walking off arm in arm toward the gymnasium where the sophs had made ready a spread of cake and ice cream to which anyone on the campus was welcome so long as the eats held out.
“It’s almost safe to say that Gentleman Gus will be friend president,” Jerry declared to Marjorie that night as the two were preparing for sleep. “I understand that she has over half the class with her.”
“Oh, I think she’ll win. I hope so.” Marjorie became suddenly silent. “There are some of the sophs who still blame Gussie for what happened to Alma Hurst and Ida Weir,” she said, after a little. “She was accused of having informed on two members of her class. She didn’t, you know, and so do the rest of us. It was Miss Walbert who betrayed them.”
“Why, old Marvelous Manager, what makes you so emphatic? Heard anything special about Gussie?” Jerry fixed interested eyes on Marjorie.
“Yes; today. Calista told me. Gussie doesn’t know it. The other Bertram girls do. They won’t tell her. She is so proud. They are afraid she’d withdraw from the nomination. They want her to be president because they think she’d make a fine one. Calista says the sophs are beginning to make a fuss over Miss Monroe. A freshie who lives at Acasia House began raving over Miss Monroe the first day she saw her. The very next day she sent her a big box of roses. The story went around the campus and the sophs heard it and began to rush Miss Monroe. She may be nominated at the class meeting Thursday.”
“Maybe,” Jerry conceded. “Still I think Gus has the inside track. The sophs may nominate half a dozen girls, but Gussie will carry off more than half the votes. You see if she doesn’t. Don’t worry about her.”
“You are so cheering, Jeremiah. I did worry about Gussie, for her to hear anything horrid now, when she’s so full of the election, would cut her to the heart.
“Cut it out, Bean, cut out worry, is the valuable advice of Dr. Macy. If you must worry, worry about me. I can’t decide what I ought to study. I’m too highly educated now. My brain rebels against being stuffed any fuller. I’m what you might call wise in my own conceit.”