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“And I had to fight to get in—and keep on,” murmured the girl reminiscently.

Jeannette rose to go; there was nothing left to be said. She opened the door and saw the girls returning to their rooms from the gym dance. In the thickest of the crowd, vivacious, talkative, elated, walked the rival candidate, Delia Humpheys!

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A college election of any kind is always supremely interesting to the students; for the time being studies, social affairs, even athletics are forgotten in the suspense that surrounds the outcome. The candidates are discussed from every angle, their respective eligibility decided upon over and over again by every group that gathers in the dining room, in the reception parlors, 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 recipient the honor and prestige of the senior presidency. From the time that the freshmen enter the college until the fall of their last year, the question retains its importance. Who, of all their number, will be best qualified to lead the class, socially, politically and finally, during that greatest week of a senior’s life—at the commencement time?