WHY ELIZABETH WAS CHOSEN
The Triangle Club of Center High School were all busily engaged in choosing the girls whom they should invite to go to the house party which Mrs. Warren was giving them. Mrs. Warren had a cottage on a lake, fifteen miles from the city, and she had written to the club saying that she wanted them all to spend a week with George, her son, there in the camp. And better still, she was ready to invite any ten girls whom they might choose. Mrs. Warren was the wife of the minister, so all the boys knew that the mothers of the girls would be glad to have them spend a week with her at the dear little camp in the pines, about which they had heard so much.
One by one they had chosen the girls, each boy having a choice, and now all that was left to be done was for Carl Green, their president, to choose. But Carl was in an examination, so they must wait for him.
“I think he will choose Charlotte Morey,” said one. “She is so pretty and Carl has taken her to several dances this winter.”
“Not a bit of it,” said another. “He will ask Helen Keats, for she makes such good marks in school that he is glad to be seen out with her. She is fine company and I hope he asks her.”
“I think he will ask his sister, Jane. Carl is always thinking of her and if she is at home, he will ask her first, I am sure,” said a third.
While they were talking, they saw the boy coming across the lawn in front of the school. Every boy smiled 78 and eagerly leaned forward to greet him, for Carl Green was easily their hero. He could lead in sports of all kinds, he was cheery and patient, he was a good student in school—he was an all-round boy and what he did was right in the eyes of the boys.
“Come on, Carl,” they called. “Here is a letter from Mrs. Warren telling us we can invite the girls up for the house party. Isn’t she a dear to think of it? We have chosen part of the girls and here is our list, but you still have a choice. Of course we know whom you will choose, but we thought we had better let you write the name. Come on! Hurry up.”