“All right. Wait,” and the fearless Dozia crept through the line of masked figures until she reached number forty-eight. Here she halted. “Grip?” she whispered, and the figure gripped. “Password?” she ordered again, but no word came. “Give the password,” she hissed into the ear—this time very distinctly. But only a mumble came from the now shifting mask. “Step out!” ordered Dozia, and the girl in place “forty-eight” instantly ducked the line and ran toward the lake, Dozia close at her heels. “You may as well stop!” called the soph. “We will get you if we have to put off this election to do it.” But the figure only yanked its bloomers higher above knees, giving more freedom for action, and clearing every sort of woody obstacle, dashed on. Dozia gave a muffled “Coo-ee.” She required help to overtake the spy. And the chimes were striking seven—the hour of attack! A runner known by her stout stick and shorter skirt answered the coo-ee call immediately. When within hearing Dozia ordered: “Go ahead! Don’t mind me! I will take care of Forty-Eight,” and back to the now moving line the runner made her way to relay Dozia’s answer. “Now!” signalled Judith. “One, two, three! Go!” The rush that followed this order did full credit to the wild occasion. Scrambling, pushing, urging, shoving, all fighting to gain entrance to Oak Hall, and there to hold the fort against the opposition, the mass of determined girls forced their way on. Those who actually fell by the wayside were automatically picked up, and carried on with the tide, so that once the hall was reached it took but a few seconds to surround the ballot boxes, secure the official blackboard, and begin the election before the other side had recovered from its shock of surprise, caused by the commotion. Judith was chairman of candidates. It was her duty to report on nominations. Edith Lee and Minette Brockton were clerks of election; Dorothy Blyden and Grazia St Clair, inspectors. Judith jumped to the platform over the foot lights (unlighted to-night) and reached the rostrum without the slightest hint of formality. Forthwith she shouted: “We are here to elect the class president for ’20. We have a candidate unanimously chosen. I shall give the name to the clerk.” She then passed to Edith Lee a slip of paper. From this Edith promptly read: “Jane Allen, ’20.” There was a roar of applause, and then followed a mumble of objection. The applause attempted to drown the call for an opportunity to be heard. “Madam Chairman! Madam Chairman! Mrs. Chair! The chair! Hear! Hear!” “Prepare your ballots!” came the order from the chair, ignoring the call from the floor. There was no need to give this last call, for scarcely Judith uttered the word “prepare” than the girls, all primed for the cue, made another rush for the ballot box.