resigned and so they’re going to have the whole new group elected and let the new president begin right away.”

“That’s funny. How do you like the idea of different officers for the two semesters?”

“I don’t know how it will work, but it makes more girls do things and that is a good thing. Oh, Carolyn, I wouldn’t have missed that Fall Retreat at camp for anything! Just one week-end was glorious and Father says perhaps I can go there for a week or two next summer after school. I wish I could go!”

“Perhaps I can. The family could go on without me and I could go with you and on to our own camp later.”

“Oh, Carolyn! And stay with me at our house before the Girl Reserve camp opens!”

Betty gave a happy skip, but here they were at the door through which other girls were entering. A little group was standing at one side near a window. Kathryn was among them and beckoned to Carolyn and Betty. “This is a caucus,” announced Kathryn. “You are not wanted Betty, only to say that you will be president if you get elected. We have to know.”

“Oh, do you?” laughed Betty. “This is so sudden! Why, I don’t care, Kathryn. If there’s anybody else that wants it, I don’t.” Then she drew Kathryn aside to speak more quietly. “Is this the nominating committee?”

“Yes, and some more of us that heard they were going to nominate a girl that wouldn’t do one thing. She is sweet enough about some things and she wants the honor of it. I’d like to have her have it for that, but nothing would get put through. Miss Street is new to us and all she knows about Clara Lovel is that she is a senior and is a good student.”

Miss Street was the new leader of this high school group. Betty told Kathryn that there was little use in putting up a junior against a senior, and told her to select another senior to run against Clara.

“There isn’t anything in your objection that it is customary to have a senior for president,” Kathryn countered in this little debate. “One of the best presidents Lyon ‘Y’ ever had was a junior. I found out before I went into this, Miss Betty Lee!”

“All right, Kathryn. I’ll not resign if I’m elected, for Lyon ‘Y’ is one of the best clubs we have and does some good, too. I’m on the committee for the Thanksgiving basket. Will you help me if I have to be president, too?”

“I’ll do anything!” grinned Kathryn, running back to the group of girls. “There are more juniors than seniors working in this club,” she whispered to a junior on the committee. “I bet we get Betty in if you put her up.”

Surreptitiously Betty did look at one of her lessons, whose book she let lie open on her lap during a little of the program. But when the leader of the high school groups spoke, she listened attentively, both for the lovely ideals of service which were presented and for the practical matters which she would have to handle if she were president of this group. It would be a “lot of work” and Betty sighed as she thought about it; but she had “the girls” to help her through. Carolyn, Kathryn, Peggy—perhaps she could get Lucia to join now! Oh, that would be great, because if Lucia joined it meant that some of the “society” girls, or girls that did not care much for anything of this sort would come in. They’d have a membership campaign and she’d appoint Lucia chairman!

Then Betty smiled at herself for planning before her name was even suggested!

“What are you grinning about, Betty?” whispered Peggy Pollard, who had plumped herself wearily down by Betty at the beginning of the program.

“Oh—things,” smiled Betty. There was more or less disorder just now, for the girls were distributing ballots. Then the announcement of names returned by the nominating committee was made and Betty had the experience, not entirely new, of hearing herself named a nominee for president. “I’m going to vote and then skip out,” she told Peggy. “I’ve got lessons to get, Carolyn and I will be getting Cicero just inside the auditorium; so come and tell us how it turned out—like a nice girl!”

“Oh, but we’re going to have tea afterwards,” objected Peggy.

“Well, call us in time for that, like a dear! I’m hard up for time.”

“All right. It will take a while to call off the ballots and tally up everything on the board. I’ll come when we’ve everybody else served. You don’t want to miss those cakes. Our cook made some of them.”

“My—have I almost missed those?”

But Betty and Carolyn slipped out as soon as their ballots had been handed to the girl that collected them. In two seats near a window in the auditorium they sat and read Cicero as fast as possible, deciding to let the undecided points go and cover ground at first, getting the vocabulary looked up at least. “You aren’t the least bit excited over running for office, are you, Betty?” asked Carolyn, stopping in the middle of a sentence. They had to read sitting close together and in a tone, not loud, but such as would not be drowned out by the practicing going on upon the platform. This was the mixed chorus, for whose practice that of the orchestra had been postponed.

“What’s the use?” asked Betty in return. “If I get it, it’s lots of work. If I don’t get it, I think I can stand the disgrace!”

Carolyn joined Betty’s laugh, but added that she was chiefly consumed with curiosity over that letter she was to read. “I don’t believe you’ll let me read it after all!”

“I have my doubts as to its being the thing to do,” returned Betty, “but I’ve got to get this Latin!”

It was wonderful what determined minds could do in a short time, though it seemed no time at all until Peggy appeared as the mixed chorus was departing. Tea and sandwiches, and more tea and delicious little cakes, tasted very good and “reviving,” as Betty declared. Peggy would not tell Betty who was elected until they reached the room and Betty declared that she had lost it of course, or Peggy would not have been afraid that Betty might refuse to come in at all, even for the little cakes.

But no sooner had Betty and Carolyn appeared than congratulations began and the general leader appointed a time to meet with Miss Street and Betty to talk over plans for the present and future. A few days remained before the plans for Thanksgiving baskets must be carried out, before the Thanksgiving recess or vacation. Betty’s head was fairly bewildered, she told Carolyn; but she supposed she would “get used to it.”

Then the girls found a sequestered spot in an empty recitation room not yet locked by the janitor. “There,” said Betty, handing Carolyn the letter.

Carolyn turned it to see the return address on the envelope. “He expects you to answer it, I see, though he gives only street and number.”

“I suppose so. He just wants to know if we are alive, of course.”

“H’m. Some town in Michigan. I can’t make out the postmark.”

“He gives the full address inside. It’s Detroit.”

Carolyn, unhurried, in spite of her calm of being so curious, drew the letter from its envelope, remarking that the Don had gotten nice stationery for his letter to Betty. It “looked serious,” she thought.

“Nonsense,” returned Betty. “Hurry up and read it, Carolyn.”

No criticism could have been made of the form of this letter, written in a firm and flowing hand. After the matter of address and date and the more formal beginning, in which Betty was addressed as Miss Lee, the letter ran as follows:

“After so long a time, perhaps you have forgotten me. I was very sorry to leave the city so suddenly, but it was necessary, in regard to my private affairs, which I am not able to confide to my friends. A letter called me away. I packed, arranged with my landlady and the man for whom I worked and left on the next train. I took my books and I am