So ended the first lesson. The second occurred at the chance mention of one Charlie White, a Cherryvale youth likewise a student at the University. “Oh, he's not very prominent,” commented Pete, and his tone damned poor Charlie for all eternity. “Why isn't he?” asked Missy interestedly. “Oh, I don't know--he's just a dub.” “A dub?” “Yep, a dub.” Pete had just made a “date” with Polly, so he beamed on her benignantly as he explained further: “A gun--a dig-a greasy grind.” “But isn't a smart person ever prominent?” “Oh, sometimes. It all depends.” “Is Polly Currier a grind?” “I should hope not!” as if defending the lady from an insulting charge. Missy looked puzzled; then asked: “Does she ever pass?” “Oh, now and then. Sometimes she flunks. Polly should worry!” Here was strange news. One could be smart, devote oneself to study--be a “greasy grind”--and yet fail of prominence; and one could fail to pass--“flunk”--and yet climb to the pinnacle of prominence. Evidently smartness and studiousness had nothing to do with it, and Missy felt a pleasurable thrill. Formerly she had envied Beulah Crosswhite, who wore glasses and was preternaturally wise. But maybe Beulah Crosswhite was not so much. Manifestly it was more important to be prominent than smart. Oh, if she herself could be prominent! To be sure, she wasn't pretty like Polly Currier, or even like her own contemporary, Kitty Allen--though she had reason to believe that Raymond Bonner had said something to one of the other boys that sounded as if her eyes were a little nice. “Big Eyes” he had called her, as if that were a joke; but maybe it meant something pleasant. But the High School did not have a Glee Club or Dramatic Society offering one the chance to display leadership gifts. There was a basket-ball team, but Missy didn't “take to” athletics. Missy brooded through long, secret hours. The first week of September school opened, classes enrolled, and the business of learning again got under way. By the second week the various offshoots of educational life began to sprout, and notices were posted of the annual elections of the two “literary societies,” Iolanthe and Mount Parnassus. The “programmes” of these bodies were held in the auditorium every other Friday, and each pupil was due for at least one performance a semester. Missy, who was an Iolanthian, generally chose to render a piano solo or an original essay. But everybody in school did that much--they had to--and only a few rose to the estate of being “officers.” The Iolanthians had two tickets up for election: the scholastic, headed by Beulah Crosswhite for president, and an opposition framed by some boys who complained that the honours always went to girls and that it was time men's rights were recognized. The latter faction put up Raymond Bonner as their candidate. Raymond was as handsome and gay as Beulah Crosswhite was learned.