“Why don’t you children find out something about what the rest of the class think before you rush into electing Miss Wells, just to please two or three girls?” asked Virginia Gaines, the sophomore who had assiduously cultivated the acquaintance of Elfreda—­then dropped her at the first sign of trouble.  “We sophomores wouldn’t allow ourselves to be influenced by cliques.  We consider the good of the class of more importance than the good of any individual member.”

She smiled disagreeably at Grace, who looked at her steadily, then said, “Was your remark intended for me and my friends, Miss Gaines?”

“Not necessarily,” flung back the sophomore, “unless you feel that it applies to you and to them.”

“No, I don’t believe it does,” declared Grace with a quiet smile.  “In fact, I quite agree with you in saying that the good of the class should always come first.  That is why we are all anxious to nominate Miss Wells for president of 19——.”

A dull flush rose to Virginia Gaines’s sallow face.  She was not quick-witted and could think of no reply.  The other freshmen at the table were taking no pains to disguise their glee at Grace’s retort.  Virginia’s sarcastic comment had proved a boomerang and she had gained nothing by launching it.  She hurried through with her dessert and left the table without another word, casting a half malignant look at Grace as she went.

    “Virginia’s mad,
    And I am glad,”

sang a freshman softly as the door banged.

“Please, don’t,” said Grace soberly.  “I’m sorry she’s angry, but I couldn’t help it.  I seem always fated to arouse sophomore ire.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little thing like that,” comforted Elfreda.  “I’d rather be the enemy than the friend of some girls.”

“But I don’t want to be the enemy of any girl,” declared Grace, looking almost appealingly about the table.

“Of course you don’t,” soothed Emma Dean, a tall, near-sighted girl at the end of the table, who had the reputation of making brilliant recitations.  “You couldn’t antagonize the rest of us if you tried.  That is, unless you deliberately broke my glasses.”

A shout of laughter went up from the table.  Virginia Gaines, who had lingered in the hall, heard it, and her face darkened.  In spite of Grace’s declaration for peace she had made an enemy.

CHAPTER XIII

GRACE TURNS ELECTIONEER

Directly after dinner that afternoon, the four girls, looking very smart in their new fall suits and hats, set out for Ruth’s.  They found her seated at her little table eating a very humble dinner of her own cooking.  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat.  I have ’licked the platter clean,’ you see.  But won’t you have some tea?  I think I have cups enough to go round, only I’m afraid I haven’t enough saucers.”

“Thank you,” began Elfreda, “but—­” then a warning pinch from Miriam caused her to eye the latter reproachfully and subside.