One of the subjects that a great many people discuss, with a good deal more money at their disposal than Frieda had at present, is the way that five-dollar bills have of disappearing in New York City. So by the time Frieda had paid for three tickets to the matinee, as the girls were of course compelled to bring a chaperon into town with them, and three lunches at a fashionable restaurant, there was so little of her money left out of her original amount that again she was obliged to do some charging on her account, in order to get the few more things that she and Mollie decided might be needed in case she paid the visit in Richmond toward the close of December.
On the way back to Primrose Hall, however, seated on the train and feeling a bit weary, Frieda wished that she had not spent this extra money. Now she wouldn’t be able to pay her debts until January, and what with Christmas coming, there would be so many presents for others that she would wish to buy! So once Frieda sighed, but when Mollie, giving her a hug, demanded to know what worried her, she would not say. For how confess that money matters were worrying her but a few days after the time when she had announced herself as an heiress? Of course Jack and Ruth would see that she was supplied with extra money at Christmas time, if they should consent to let her make the trip south, and out of this amount she would certainly save enough to pay her bills, without having to confess her extravagances. For Frieda knew that Jack and Ruth would both be angry and ashamed of her for breaking her promise and for buying things which she did not really need.
CHAPTER XVI
ELECTION DAY
The day for the election of the president of the Junior Class had arrived at last. Lessons were over at noon and from three o’clock until six in the afternoon Jessica Hunt and Miss Sterne would remain in the library at Primrose Hall watching over the ballot box. Immediately after six the box would be opened, the ballots counted and the choice of the Juniors announced.
For December had come with her white frosts and cold, brilliant days and the fields about Primrose Hall were sere and brown. Now and then in the past few weeks a light snow had fallen and the shore waters of the Hudson River would then be trimmed with a fine fringe of ice. Once the election was over the Primrose Hall students would be making plans for the Christmas holidays, but until then nothing else, not even home and family, appeared of so great importance.
Do not think because Gerry’s appeal to Olive to save Jean had gone astray that she had given up the fight for her friend’s cause. Indeed, like many another brave campaigner, she had only worked the harder, rallying Jean’s friends closer around her, exhorting her enemies and trying to persuade the girls on the fence that there was no real point in their antagonism toward Olive. And in all the efforts Gerry had made she had had an able lieutenant in Margaret Belknap, Jean’s other devoted friend.
For herself Jean could do little electioneering, realizing that unless her classmates desired her to represent them by reason of the character she had already established among them, nothing she could do or say at this late day should influence them. And Jean had also never wavered from the attitude she had taken in regard to Olive on the afternoon of their final discussion of the subject. She had not needed that her resolution be strengthened, but if she had, letters from Ruth Drew and Jack Ralston would certainly have accomplished it. For Olive, true to her threat, had written them the entire situation, begging that Jean be persuaded from the error of her ways. Instead of the reply she hoped for, Ruth and Jack had both emphatically declared Jean’s position the only possible one.
All the morning in the hours just before the election Jean had been conscious that Olive’s eyes were fixed on her whenever their presence in one of the class rooms made it possible. Her expression was so wistful and apologetic that Jean began to care more for her own success on Olive’s account than her own. So as soon as luncheon was over and three o’clock had come around, slipping her arm through her adopted sister’s, she drew her along the hall toward the library door.
“Come on, Olive, child, and cast your vote for me and then let us go upstairs and stay hidden away until the election is over. Then Gerry and Margaret will let us know the result. If I were a really high-minded person I suppose I should now vote for my rival, Miss Graham, but as I can’t bring myself up to that point, I’ll just slip in a piece of paper for old Gerry.”
Ten minutes after this conversation Jean and Olive were in their own sitting room for the entire afternoon, having placed a sign outside announcing that no one could be admitted. Of course both ranch girls were excited and nervous, but of the two Olive was plainly the more affected, for while Jean talked and laughed in a perfectly natural fashion, she was pale and silent and oftentimes on the verge of tears.