berta
languidly.

"Oh well, if you're all set upon it, I'll play for you," said Eleanor
graciously. She was secretly ashamed of the speech that Katherine had
overheard the day before and bitterly regretted having antagonized the
girls in the house, when she had meant only to keep them--all but
Betty--at a respectful distance. She liked most of them personally, but
she wished her friends to be of another type--girls from large schools
like her own, who would have influence and a following from the first;
girls with the qualities of leadership, who could control votes in
class-meetings and push their little set to first place in all the
organized activities of the college. Eleanor had said that she came to
college for "fun," but "fun" to her meant power and prominence. She was
a born politician, with a keen love of manoeuvring and considerable
tact and insight when she chose to exercise it. But inexperience and the
ease with which she had "run" boarding-school affairs had made her
over-confident. She saw now that she had indulged her fondness for
sarcasm too far, and was ready to do a good deal to win back the
admiration which she was sure the Chapin house girls had felt for her at
first. She was particularly anxious to do this, as the freshman
class-meeting was only a week off, and she wanted the votes of the house
for the Hill School candidate for class-president.

So three evenings that week, in spite of her distaste for minor parts
and bad pianos, she meekly drummed out waltzes and two-steps on Mrs.
Chapin's rickety instrument for a long half hour after dinner, while
Betty and Roberta--who danced beautifully and showed an unexpected
aptitude in imparting her accomplishment--acted as head-masters, and the
rest of the girls furnished the novices with the necessary variety of
partners, practiced "leading," and incidentally got better acquainted.
On Friday evening, as they sat in the parlor resting and discussing the
progress of their pupils and the appalling length of the Livy lesson for
the next day, Eleanor broached the subject of the class-meeting.

"You know it's to-morrow at two," she said. "Aren't you excited?"

"It will be fun to see our class together," said Rachel. Nobody else
seemed to take much interest in the subject.

"Well, of course," pursued Eleanor, "I'm particularly anxious about it
because a dear friend of mine is going to be proposed for class
president--Jean Eastman--you know her, Betty."

"Oh