Elsie smiled, well pleased by the compliment, and added rather irrelevantly:
"I asked Lulu why she didn't invite Beverly Randolph to join the club. He hasn't many friends in New York and might enjoy it. She says he is older than any of the other boys, but she would be glad to have him if he cares to join, so I am to ask him and let her know to-morrow. The boys are not to be initiated, because they are only the amusement committee, but they are all to come to the first meeting, and vote on the poems."
Nothing more was said on the subject just then, but Elsie was careful to deliver the message to Beverly that evening, and the invitation was readily accepted.
"The girl who writes the best poem is to be president, you know," Elsie explained, with her sweetest smile. "You must be sure to come to the first meeting and vote for the one you like best."
"I am afraid I'm not very well up on poetry," said Beverly, laughing. "It's a lucky thing the boys aren't expected to write poems as well as the girls; I am sure I should disgrace myself hopelessly if I were to attempt anything original."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't," Elsie protested. "You have no idea how easy it really is. Of course some of the poems will be dreadfully silly, but you don't have to vote for them."
It was Thanksgiving week, so school closed on Wednesday, not to open again till the following Monday. Elsie had several invitations for the holidays, but Marjorie, whose New York acquaintances were still limited to the girls at Miss Lothrop's, had only the first meeting of the Club on Friday evening to which to look forward. She wrote her poem on Wednesday evening, while Elsie was at a theater party, and although far from satisfied with it, decided that it would have to do, as she had several hard lessons to prepare for Monday, and there was no more time for writing poetry.
"Of course it won't be nearly as good as Elsie's," she told herself cheerfully. "She is sure to be voted president."
She had asked her cousin that evening if she had written her poem, and Elsie had replied carelessly that there was plenty of time, and she would probably do it to-morrow.
"It really isn't worth bothering about," she had added, with some scorn; "it won't take me half an hour."