Judith waved for silence in vain. Not in years had there been such a remarkable manifestation at an election. Just once Judith caught the glittering eye of Helen, who was down front with her contingent. It had been carefully arranged that she should keep away from Judith and Jane, to dispel suspicion regarding their actual relationship, but that the little artist had worked for the result now being proclaimed to honor Jane, none knew better than the new class president herself. “Speech! Speech!” shouted the cheering squad. Then Jane stepped forward. “This honor,” she said, “I have not sought, but I am none the less grateful. Why I have changed my mind from a positive declaration against accepting to the position I now hold, is a matter—too complicated for platform utterance. I feel, however, in justice to my supporters, they should know, if they care to, the exact particulars. Therefore, we will arrange a time for a private conference of the leaders, as quickly as that time can be set apart. In the meantime be assured of my gratitude, and my determination to support the traditions of Wellington.” “Cheers! Cheers!” demanded the shouting squad, and answering the call came that unintelligible faulty rhyme: “I know a girl and her name is Jane, A reebald, ribald rowdy! The hundredth verse is just the same A reebald, ribald rowdy! Janey, get a rat-trap bigger than a cat-trap! Reebald, ribald! Siss-boom-bah! Wellington! Wellington! Rah! Rah!” “I never thought we could do it,” Drusilla Landers hissed into Jane’s ear, as they filed out, at the same time giving her hand a congratulatory squeeze. “You have no idea how the opposition worked. We won by strategy—nothing else. They had us beaten in point of numbers two to one. But they never got a chance to poll a vote.” “Nor to candy a candidate,” assisted Jane, with a school girl’s delightful disregard of common sense English. “But they will make us pay for our victory,” forecast the sage Drusilla. “We put it over this time, and we have right on our side,” orated Jane. “No need to climb the steeple until the flagpole sags.” “Oh, our colors are flaunting to-night!” Drusilla made Jane hear, her eyes sparkling with well-earned satisfaction. “Ummmm!” Jane reciprocated the long “M” like a whisper through the pines, serving to express more with its hum, than might have a whole paragraph of mere ordinary cut out words. In the day’s records no mention is made of the lecture. But it was delivered, and the class attended, so the “condition” was met, if not entirely appreciated. Sleep itself had to fight for its honors on that night in Wellington. CHAPTER XVI—POLITICS ET AL “Oh, I am too excited for words!” exclaimed Clare Bradley. “Have you heard the news?” “I may have,” replied Judith, with her old-time drollery. “What particularly choice crumb have you reference to, Clare?”