A college election of any kind is always interesting to the students; for the time being studies, social affairs, even are forgotten in the that surrounds the outcome. The candidates are discussed from every angle, their respective upon over and over again by every group that gathers in the dining room, in the reception , in the dormitory, until the girls in question fairly ache to have the thing settled one way or the other.  
With the exception of student-government president, no office brings to its the honor and prestige of the senior . From the time that the enter the college until the fall of their last year, the question retains its importance. Who, of all their number, will be best to lead the class, socially, politically and finally, during that greatest week of a senior’s life—at the commencement time?
 
Marjorie Wilkinson’s three years at Turner College had already been filled with positions of honor and responsibility; she had held class offices, the association presidency, and, during the latter part of her junior year, had found herself at the head of the student-government. From the point of view of experience and popularity, she was the only girl for the class to choose.
 
So sure were Marjorie’s friends in the outcome of the election that, when the actual day came, they found the excitement dying. Lily Andrews seemed to be the only girl who was really concerned.
 
“Marj isn’t interested enough in the election,” she complained to Alice Endicott, after lunch on the eventful day. “I think in her heart she really hopes that she won’t get it, and she is still trying to induce the girls to vote for Jeannette. I wish she could be made to see its real importance.”
 
“There’s no use trying to influence Marj,” returned Alice. “She usually has her mind made up—and her reasons are always so good that nobody can argue with her. Remember the time we all tried to keep her from spending the night at the tea room? Now she’s probably interested in something else.”
 
“She is,” the other admitted. “It’s the same old story—Girl . Just because she’s twenty-one, she feels that she must rush into a captaincy.”
 
“But anybody can be a Girl captain—I mean anybody with ordinary intelligence; but it takes an unusual girl to be senior president.”
 
“Marjorie has no idea of being an ordinary captain—she’ll work until she’s an extraordinary one, just as she does everything else. Still, I think if16 we get her really elected, she’ll have so much to do that she won’t have time to think about anything else. Girl Scouts will have to be forgotten, until next year.”
 
Had Lily been with her roommate at that moment, however, she might not have spoken so optimistically. Marjorie was stretched on the couch in her sitting room, in the act of reading the Girl Scouts’ magazine from cover to cover. She was searching eagerly for any notices of troops in need of captains, in the hope of finding a place where her services could be used to real advantage. In her mind’s eye she pictured a very poor troop, whose members could hardly assemble the necessary money to pay their dues, to whom uniforms were out of the question; girls who knew nothing of parties or camping trips; girls who had never had a chance to get away from the ugly slum district and learn the of the woods. How thrilling it would be to open their eyes to beauty, to fill their starved minds with knowledge, to their spirits with the great scout ideal! In comparison with the glory of such leadership, the honor of class presidency seemed .
 
Unfortunately, however, she found no such troop mentioned in the pages of the magazine. There was a call for leaders in one of the country districts, and an opportunity offered for camp councillors, but the cities evidently were well provided. Or perhaps, as she feared, no one had taken the trouble to look up any such groups of girls.
 
When Daisy Gravers dropped in a few minutes later, she was still deep in her problem.
 
“You’re welcome, Dais’,” she said, rising and offering her visitor a chair, “if you are not here to talk about the election. I’m bored to death with it.”
 
Daisy laughed good-naturedly; it was the same old, modest Marjorie, who had been sort of an to her ever since she had succeeded in finding her sister Olive and reuniting her with her husband, and later when she had sympathized with Daisy’s plea for the little slum-baby and its sick mother. Other people might prove disappointing, but Marjorie Wilkinson had never failed her.
 
“I’ll talk about anything you like, or keep absolutely quiet,” she replied .
 
“You’re a dear!” exclaimed her hostess, with . “Well, then—I want to talk about the Girl Scouts.”
 
“All right; what Girl Scouts?”
 
Marjorie outlined something of her plan to the other girl, explained that she wanted Daisy or either of the other juniors to take charge of the little troop in the village, so that she might devote her time to a more difficult group. Her voice grew as she of her hopes and her dreams for the troop that was to be hers.
 
“But I don’t know how to find such a troop,” she concluded, pathetically. “You can’t exactly go18 into the streets in the poor districts and gather the children up. They might question your .”
 
“Naturally,” agreed Daisy.
 
“Can’t you think of any way, Dais’?” she persisted.
 
“I’m afraid I can’t—unless you’d take a job I have off my hands. I’m supposed to go to the Community House tonight, and supervise a dance. I don’t know what the girls are like, but they might be interested in starting a troop.”
 
Marjorie brightened at the idea.
 
“Do you suppose they’re poor?”
 
“Well, I’m afraid not so very poor, or they wouldn’t have dance dresses and be able to pay for a party. But I’m quite sure they’re not rich.”
 
“How do you happen to be doing this?” Marjorie inquired.
 
“You’ve heard me speak of Miss Winthrop—that friend of Mother’s, who is head of the Community Settlement in Philadelphia? Well, it seems that she had promised these girls, who meet there one evening a week as a little club, that they might have a dance. Then she was suddenly called to a conference in New York, so she asked me to bring another girl and chaperone them, in her place.”
 
“But college girls aren’t usually accepted as official chaperones,” objected Marjorie.
 
“Oh, there’s a Mrs. Morgan—the matron of the settlement—who will be there to keep up appearances. But Miss Winthrop says she’s an easy-going19 sort of woman, who never sees anything wrong with anybody or anything, and who would never be able to give her any sort of report of the party. Naturally, Miss Winthrop’s very keen to know just how the girls do behave.”
 
“Yes, of course. But Daisy, there’s no use of my going to a party like that. I can just picture those girls—regular flappers, of the younger set. They’d never make Girl Scouts in the world.”
 
Daisy made no effort to hide her disappointment.
 
“They might have younger sisters, Marjorie, who would be interested in ,” she offered feebly.
 
Marjorie shook her head.
 
“Can you imagine girls of that age and that type caring much about their younger sisters’ pastimes? I’m afraid not, Daisy, and besides, what real chance would we get to talk to them—at a dance? They’ll be much more interested in their partners.”
 
Daisy sighed; there was no doubt that Marjorie was correct in her .
 
“Then you won’t go?”
 
“I don’t see that it would be of much use.”
 
“I really oughtn’t to have asked you—when this is your big night,” said Daisy, . “I honestly forgot all about the class election.”
 
“Oh, the class election!” There was contempt in Marjorie’s tone, with . “You know that it isn’t that, Daisy! And I don’t want you to think that scouting is the only thing in the world I’m interested in. If I really thought I could be of use to you, I’d go.”
 
Daisy jumped up in delight.
 
“You honestly mean it, Marj? Oh, I am sure you can do a whole lot! You know you’re a born leader, and the girls will just naturally have to do the right thing, because you’re there. They’d never notice me—I’m always so shy—but you——”
 
“Now, Daisy, that’s quite enough——” she began tipping her over on the couch to enforce order, when she was interrupted by the arrival of Alice and Lily.
 
The latter looked immensely pleased with herself, as if she had just arranged some matter to her satisfaction.
 
“Marj, the victory’s a sure thing!” she flung out. “Get out the ! Before this time tomorrow, you’ll be our class president!”
 
“Yes,” cried Alice; “nobody doubts it for a minute! All glory to the old senior patrol of Pansy troop!”
 
Marjorie and Daisy exchanged amused glances, but neither said anything.
 
“Jeannette and I have been planning the grandest celebration for tonight,” Lily continued. “We’re going to have a regular parade—music and all! We have permission from the dean to march down to the tea-room, and make a regular lion out of our heroine!”
 
21“Suppose I’m not elected?” the potential heroine suggested.
 
“Then we’ll do it for Jeannette, of course. But there’s no doubt that you will be.”
 
“Well,” remarked Marjorie , “suppose I’m not here?”
 
Her roommate looked alarmed.
 
“Marj, you wouldn’t do a trick like that on us, would you?”
 
“You know I don’t like so much , Lil. But I really wouldn’t be mean enough to stay away purposely, just to spoil your pleasure. However, it just happens that I have a very pressing engagement.”
 
“An engagement!” repeated the astonished girl. “On senior election night?”
 
“It’s the truth!”
 
“But what? Has John Hadley——? I’ll never forgive him if——”
 
Daisy spoke up.
 
“Don’t blame poor John, Lily. It’s all my fault. I needed Marj’s help tonight at the Community Settlement, and she volunteered to go.”
 
“A new scout troop?” asked Alice.
 
“No, just a party, that the head worker wanted me to supervise, in her absence. But I don’t want to be selfish—if you need her more, Lily, I’ll resign my claims.”
 
“No, indeed, Daisy, I’m not willing!” cried Marjorie. “I’m very much interested in the dance now,22 and I want to see the girls. Besides, you can’t possibly go alone, and you’ve given your word to Miss Winthrop.” Then, turning to her roommate, “Lily, I’d love very much to have you go with me.”
 
“Me!” exclaimed Lily. “Why you know I want to be on the spot to vote for you!”
 
“Even when you know I don’t want to be elected?”
 
“Just the same I want you to be. I want you to do great things this year, Marj.”
 
“And I want to do greater things. This is my beginning, Lily, and it may prove my opportunity. Please come with me!”
 
Lily hedged; she remembered how deeply in earnest her roommate had been during their talk on the previous evening, and she could not bear to desert her. Already she saw her own little plan vanishing.
 
“How would we get home?”
 
“We could have John and Dick come for us at the settlement, and go to Mrs. Hadley’s to spend the night.”
 
“Three of us?” persisted Lily. “Wouldn’t that be too many, on such short notice?”
 
“I wouldn’t have to go, Lily, if you went,” put in Daisy. “Marjorie could make a much better report to Miss Winthrop, and besides, it’s much easier for seniors to get permission to be away from college than for juniors. And both of you would be better than I would.”
 
“You just want to get out of it, Daisy!” teased Lily.
 
“Maybe I do,” the younger girl admitted. “Anyway, Marj, you go call up Mrs. Hadley now.”
 
Marjorie flashed a smile.
 
“I will,” she agreed; “and while I’m doing that, you, Lil, go call Dick.”
 
Lily made a face, but started towards the door.
 
“I guess I better go tell Jeannette first,” she said.