Peggy Parsons a Hampton Freshman Part 8

Peggy's thought raced back over Florence's characteristics while at Andrews. Florence was just the type to have an important place in a small school, where each individual girl could get to know her and love her. But here among these hundreds there was nothing about her striking enough to hold their attention at first glance.

A warm feeling of affection surged up in Peggy's heart for her last year's comrade.

Just for a moment she would have forced Florence down their throats whether or not, if she could, without regard for the fact that she believed another girl was infinitely better fitted for the post.

That other girl's name was now being spoken by the Junior.

"This is Gloria Hazeltine," she announced to the monster cla.s.s.

And just as the moon and stars fade out of view when the sun comes up, so the less vivid attraction of Myra and Florence dimmed into insignificance beside the appealing radiance that was Gloria's.

"O-oh, isn't she sweet!" breathed a girl near Peggy. "I never saw anything like that hair in my life. For goodness' sake, somebody lend me a knife to sharpen my pencil so that I can vote all over again for her!"

If she were nothing besides sweet, argued Peggy to herself, she would never have been put up. Most of the girls were that. But she understood that the rapturous tribute of her neighbor meant far more than the words she had chosen.

The quality of graceful and unconscious leaders.h.i.+p seemed stamped in Gloria's face, as she smiled out on the freshmen, who were all beginning to go wild over her at once.

The slips were pa.s.sed again while the three candidates faced their different const.i.tuents.

All anxiety had pa.s.sed from Peggy's mind. She was _sure_ who had won.

The slips rustled triumphantly when they had been sorted after the voting and were pa.s.sed up to the Junior again.

"Twenty for Florence Thomas," she read aloud without raising her eyes from the papers. "Fifty for Myra Whitewell, and-all the rest for Gloria Hazeltine-Miss Hazeltine is elected president of your cla.s.s!"

With that announcement something happened to the cla.s.s. Instantaneously the fusion took place.

There were no longer separate groups, shy and a little suspicious of each other: they were one cla.s.s. They had elected a president. She was the president of all alike.

At the same instant they all burst forth into the same song:

"Oh, here's to Morning Glory, Drink her down!

Oh, here's to Morning Glory, Drink her down!

Oh, here's to Morning Glory, Whom we'll love till we are h.o.a.ry; Drink her down, drink her down, Drink her down, DOWN, down!

Balm of Gilead, Gilead, Balm-_Of-Gilead_- Way down on the Bingo Farm!"

And then they turned and looked at each other with wonder, for the little rhyme in the middle had come with unanimous harmony to all, and each had sung this cheer song just as loudly as she could, although a few minutes before many would have said they didn't even know the tune.

Peggy was thrilled to her finger tips. She squeezed Katherine's arm.

Gloria's beauty and ability had been enhanced twenty fold, for every girl present, by this spontaneous tribute. And Peggy could think of nothing more desirable in the world than that she should some time hear this song laden with her own name.

The other officers were elected with expedition, the vice-presidency being offered to Myra Whitewell, who indignantly refused it, declaring she would be first or nothing-thus maintaining a single discordant note in the general happiness and good humor. The despised office was then hesitatingly tendered to Florence Thomas, who was almost too pleased to speak, but made the remark in acceptance that this office, while still too big for her, was nearer her size and she'd do just everything she could to deserve their trust and faith in her.

Myra Whitewell edged her way out of the room, with a slight sneer distorting her pretty lips.

But Florence shook hands with all who came forward and received their kisses with pleasure that made every one love her.

The cla.s.s went singing home in every direction from its election. An enormous hysterically happy crowd flocked in the wake of Gloria. Peggy and Katherine were in the outskirts of this crowd, and they looked from the heroine of their making into each other's radiant faces.

"Well, thank goodness, her looks elected her," sighed Peggy thankfully.

"As soon as I thought of a 'seeing is believing' test, I knew we'd won."

"All the girls are saying she's the prettiest president a freshman cla.s.s ever had," laughed Katherine, "and the joke on them is that they have a regular person as well as just a beauty."

"We've certainly done our duty by the cla.s.s," agreed Peggy.

Katherine turned and looked consideringly at her room-mate.

"You _know_, Peggy, that you could have been the center of that crowd this minute, if you had wanted to. Dit Armandale did a good deal to work up sentiment and-you are the best known freshman of any-or were an hour or so ago. I think you'd have been just as good a president as Gloria,-and if I do say it myself, a lot better even-and-and just as pretty--"

"No matter who you room with," trilled Peggy remindingly and ungrammatically, "you're for Hampton now."

"That Wilson idea again?"

"The very same."

"_Well_, anyway, Peggy, you _could_--"

"Don't!" said Peggy suddenly and almost sharply. "Do you think I am some kind of _angel_?"

"Ye-es," drawled Katherine affectionately with a slow smile, "sort of."

But Peggy looked away from her laughing eyes, and shook her head quickly as if she expected to shake out of it some unwelcome thought.

Later in the day-just before dinner time, she and Katherine gathered in the quant.i.ties of notes and invitations that had come to Gloria and Florence Thomas. It seemed that every girl in college, no matter what cla.s.s she was in, had taken immediate occasion to sit down and write her congratulations to the freshman president.

When they stopped to deliver their burden at Gloria's door, they found her room fragrant with American beauty roses, and sweet with violets and spicy with pink carnations. A huge orchid nodded coolly in a j.a.panese vase which the girls had never seen before, and an array of dainty little leather-covered books on every subject from "Friends.h.i.+p" to "Ibsen" were strewn on the table by the window.

Three new pictures in black walnut frames stood leaning against the couch with the waiting picture wire beside them.

Gloria came to meet them, flushed with pleasure.

"Oh, I never knew it would be like this," she exclaimed, quite frank in her delight. "And what have you brought me? Oh, so many notes-aren't they all _dear_? I didn't imagine college-or anything-could be so nice."

She sat down on the couch while Katherine and Peggy poured their harvest of congratulations into her lap. Her fingers felt them over and sifted them before she unfolded any, and she looked up to laugh her happiness into her friends' eyes.

"Your room looks wonderful," breathed Katherine, looking around, "just like a senior's, all of a sudden."

"Doesn't it?" echoed Gloria. "I've solved the mystery of Ditto Armandale's room seeming so unlike her, as you said it did,-her furnis.h.i.+ngs are all gifts from people for getting elected to things."

Two dimples of satisfaction dented Peggy's piquant little face. She ached from head to foot from the hours of standing and of forcing her way back and forth through the crowds while she made her brief campaign appeals. But it had turned out wonderfully. Her candidate had won, and was this same radiant and beautiful Gloria looking so joyously at her now.

"Listen to this," Gloria was saying, reading one of the tributes from the note-room; "this is a darling one:

"'_Dear First Lady of the Freshmen_:

"'Please allow an old, old Junior to express her joy over you and her envy of you. Once a long time ago-two whole years-she herself heard the Balm of Gilead song in honor of her own election to the heights you have attained to-day.

"'I don't think I ever felt so lofty over anything. And all the college experiences that have come since have never dimmed the thrilling feeling of that day or made it seem one bit less the best thing that ever happened to me.