will be the disappointment of my life! I'm not joking! I mean it really and truly. I've set my heart upon it."
Mavis, who had a very fine sense of the fitness of things, and who did not think sisters should nominate one another, returned early to school that afternoon and hunted up Iva Westwood. She found her very enthusiastic about the election.
"We've never had anything of the sort before at 'The Moorings,'" purred Iva. "We're beginning to wake up here, aren't we? I'm going to give in your name as a candidate, Mavis! I'm just writing it now."
"Thanks! Won't you put Merle too?"
"Oh, I will if you like." (Iva's voice was not too enthusiastic.) "I suppose it doesn't matter how many we nominate. Somehow I never thought of Merle."
"She's a splendid leader, and A1 at games. You should have seen her at Whinburn High!"
"Oh, I daresay! Well, to please you I'll put her name on my list. It can do no harm at any rate."
"Thanks ever so!"
"Old Muriel's canvassing like anything downstairs among the kids!"
"Is canvassing allowed?"
"Well, it hasn't been forbidden. Nesta and I are too proud to go and beg for votes, but Mu doesn't care in the least; rather enjoys it, in fact. She's sitting in the playroom, with Florrie Leach and Betty Marshall on her knee, 'doing the popular,' and giving away whole packets of sweets. If Merle really wants--hello! here's Merle herself!"
Mavis turned quickly, for her younger sister, looking flushed and excited, had burst suddenly into the room and was speaking eagerly.
"Mavis! Have you a shilling in your pocket? I left my purse at home! Do lend it to me! What for? I want to tear out and buy some sweets. Oh yes, I've time. I shall simply sprint. Hand it over, that's a saintly girl! Thanks immensely!"
Merle departed like a whirlwind, slamming the door after her. Iva Westwood pulled an expressive grimace and laughed.
"So she's trying the popular trick too! Well, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. I think Edith Carey has a good chance myself. The kids are rather fond of her. Have you written your nominations yet, Mavis? Then come along, and we'll drop them inside the box."
As the first bell rang at 2.25 and the girls began to assemble in the big schoolroom, Muriel Burnitt walked in followed by a perfect comet's tail of juniors, some of whom were hanging on to her arms. Each was sucking a peppermint bull's-eye, and each wore a piece of pink ribbon pinned on to her dress.
"Muriel's favours!" they explained, giggling loudly. "We're all of us going to vote for her. Isn't it fun?"
Mavis glanced round for Merle, hoping her expedition to the sweet-shop would not have made her late, and to her relief saw her sitting on the opposite side of the room, in company with Beata and Romola Castleton, Fay Macleod, and a number of other new girls whose acquaintance she had evidently just made. They were passing round chocolates, and seemingly enjoying themselves. Merle waved a hand gaily at her sister, beckoning her to join the group, but at that moment Miss Mitchell entered the room, and all seated themselves on the nearest available benches while the roll-call was taken.
"We will meet here at four o'clock for the election," said the mistress, as she closed the register and dismissed the various forms to their classrooms.
The first day of a new term always seems intolerably long, and with such an interesting event as a ballot before them most of the girls felt the hour and a half to drag, and turned many surreptitious glances towards wrist watches. Merle in especial, who hated French translation, groaned as she looked up words in the dictionary, and made several stupid mistakes, because her thoughts were focussed on the election instead of on the matter in hand. Once she yawned openly, and drew down a reproof from Mademoiselle, whereupon she heaved a submissive sigh, controlled her boredom, and went on wearily transferring the flowery sentiments of Fénelon into the English tongue. At precisely five minutes to four the big bell clanged out a warning, dictionaries were shut, exercise-books handed in, pencil-boxes replaced in desks, and the class filed downstairs to the big schoolroom. Miss Pollard was not there: she was busy in the hostel; and Miss Fanny, looking rather flustered and nervous, had evidently given over the conduct of the meeting to Miss Mitchell, and was present merely as a spectator. The new mistress seemed perfectly at home and ready for the occasion. She passed round pieces of paper, inquired whether everybody had a pencil, then made her announcements.
"As Miss Pollard told you this morning, you are here to elect two monitresses. Two from among the boarders have already been chosen by us, these are Iva Westwood
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