“We’d love to have tea with you,” smiled Miriam.  “Wouldn’t we, girls?”

Elfreda, who had divined the reason for the pinch, said “yes” with the others, and Ruth bustled about with pink cheeks and a delicious air of importance.  She took down from the cupboard shelf a box of Nabiscos that she had been treasuring for some such occasion as the present, placing them on a little hand-painted plate, the only piece of china she possessed.  When the tea was made the guests emptied the little tea-pot and ate all of the Nabiscos, to the intense satisfaction of their hostess, to whom entertaining was a new and delightful pastime.

“Now, you must put on your wraps and go with us,” commanded Grace, setting her cup on the table.  “We are going to Morton House to make our party call.  The future president of 19——­ lives there.  That is, we think she is the future president and we hope to make others think so, too.”

Ruth obediently went to the closet where her plain little hat and shabby, old-style coat hung.  She looked hesitatingly from the smartly tailored suits of her guests to her own well-worn coat, then with a proud little lifting of her head, she took it down and began putting it on.

During their walk to Morton House the girls met several freshmen they knew, and these were faithfully interviewed as to their preference in the matter of 19——­’s president.  To Grace’s delight none of them had made any choice in regard to candidates, so her glowing remarks as to Gertrude Wells’s ability to make a good president fell on fertile soil.  Fortune favored them, for when they reached Morton House they found Miss Wells out and two-thirds of the girls downstairs in the living room listening to the new songs that the curly-haired little girl at the piano had received from New York the day before.  She was in the middle of one when the girls entered the room.  Grace held up a warning finger and pointed to the piano.

The song ended several notes short and the little girl turned her head toward her audience, saying, “I knew some one came in.”

“Won’t you sing for us?” asked Anne, who loved music.  The little girl’s voice reminded her of Nora O’Malley’s, and Nora’s singing had always been a source of delight to Anne.

“Not now,” smiled the singer.  “I wish to talk, but I’ll sing for you later.”

“We came over this afternoon,” said Grace to the girl sitting next to her, “to find out who Morton House wants for president.  We would like to have Miss Wells——­”

Grace was interrupted by a little cry of delight.  The girl sprang to her feet and cried, “Hear! hear!” Then she took Grace by the shoulders and laughingly commanded, “Arise, occupy the center of the room and tell the girls what you have just told me.”

Before she knew it Grace was standing in the middle of the room, earnestly advocating Gertrude Wells’s cause, while the Morton House girls were making as much demonstration as was considered decorous on Sunday.  Grace concluded with, “I’m quite sure that every girl at Morton House will vote for Miss Wells and every freshman at Wayne Hall, too.  Before class meeting next Friday I hope to be able to convince the majority of 19——­ that they will make no mistake in voting for Miss Wells.”