Why was it so exciting, this choosing of the May Queen?
No one could tell, and yet it was always the same. Even Miss Bowles felt a lump rise in her throat. Many of the alumnæ shamelessly wept, and Professor Green, watching the three white figures move slowly in front of the line of juniors, wondered if no one else could hear the pounding of his pulses.
Presently the committee came to a stop. The Professor thrust his hands into his pockets and drew a deep breath.
Nance stepped forward and placed the wreath on somebody’s head. The spectators could see that she was quite tall and slender, and that she shrank back with surprise and shyness as she was led forth and bidden to mount the donkey, which she did with perfect ease and grace, as one who has mounted horses all her life.
“Who is it?” cried a dozen voices. “They look so much alike.”
Scores of opera glasses and field glasses were raised.
“It’s Molly Brown, of course,” cried a girl.
The Professor smiled happily.
“Of course,” he repeated, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets.
And now the ban of silence was lifted. The orchestra played; the audience cheered and the three classes gave their particular yells in turn, while the juniors, marching two by two, followed Molly Brown, riding the donkey, around the entire circuit of the campus.