dy some papers were pinned up claiming attention for the various
candidates:

"Vote for Val Barnett, the hockey champion."

"Hope Lawson begs all her friends to support her in the coming
election."

"Grace Russell solicits the favour of your votes."

"Noelle Kennedy relies upon the kindness of the Lower School."

"Hallo, Dorothy!" said Mavie Morris. "Aren't you going to add your quota
to the general lot? All the others are getting up their appeals. I wish
Miss Tempest had put me on the list of likelies!"

"I can't think why she didn't," replied Dorothy. "I should say you're
far more suitable than Noelle Kennedy."

"Why, so do I, naturally. But there! it can't be helped. I'm not among
the elect, so I must just grin and bear it. Is this your appeal? Let me
look."

She seized the piece of paper from Dorothy's hand, and, scanning it
eagerly, read the following lines:

Ye voters at the school election,
I beg you'll look in my direction;
I hate to boast and brag, but yet
For once I'm blowing my own trumpet.
Now don't you think in me you'd find
A candidate suited to your mind?
No bookworm I, but fond of sports,
Hockey or games of other sorts;
At acting I can run the show,
And play my part, as well you know.
At meetings all your wants I'd state,
And make a speech at the debate.
I'd back in all scholastic storms
The interests of the Lower Forms.
A zealous leader I should be,
So when you vote, please remember me!
I hope these verses you will pardon,
And choose me for the Lower School Warden.

"What do you think of it?" asked Dorothy. "I made it up during the
history lesson, and wrote it on my knee under the desk. One wants
something rather different from other people's, and I thought perhaps no
one else would have a rhyming address."

"It's not bad," commented Mavie, "but you do brag."

"I've apologized for it. One must state one's qualifications, or what's
the use of being a candidate? Look at Val's notice--she calls herself
the hockey champion."

"No one takes Val too seriously. I don't believe she's the ghost of a
chance, though she did win the cup last season. One needs more than that
for a warden; brains count as well as muscles."

"I know; that's why I tried poetry."

"Please don't call that stuff poetry. Half of the lines won't scan."

There was a pucker between Dorothy's dark eyebrows as she snatched back
her literary bantl