They had talked over the summer holidays quite thoroughly, when Beth brought up the subject of class elections.
“We want Dolly for president next year; we shall want Margaret as editor-in-chief of the Chronicle (the Chronicle was a college monthly managed entirely by the senior class, although contributions were frequently accepted from members of the other classes), we want Constance for class historian, too, and Mary ought to be on the executive committee; as we shall want so much then, I think that we had better keep in the background this year, don’t you?”
“Is that all you want, Beth?” Dolly questioned dryly.
Beth ignored the protests that Constance and Mary both were making regarding their fitness for the positions to which Beth wished them elected.
“I do not want too much, and I do not want more than I mean to get either! If we work for the other girls this year, they can afford to help us next. I was president last year, and of course I am still president for a few days yet. After I go out we will all keep in the background during this junior year, for really we are not pigs.”
“So glad you told us that; some people might think we were,” murmured Dolly. Beth gave her a vigorous pinch and went on calmly. “You girls are just the ones for the places I named, and we want our best material to the fore during our senior year. None of you have any special candidates at heart this year, have you?”
“I do not want to interfere with any of your plans for Dolly’s election next year, Beth, but I would be glad if Margery Ainsworth could be elected to one of the minor committees this year.”
“Now, in the name of common sense, why do you care about her?”
“I feel sorry for the girl, Beth. She is studying well now, she has no special friends, and a little honor like that would do her an immense amount of good.”
“Do you really like her, Con?”