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“Poor Daisy—it certainly is a lucky thing she didn’t come; she’s so sensitive that she would be in tears by now! But Lil, please don’t say ‘I told you so!’” begged Marjorie penitently. “You were right—I admit it now—a class election is infinitely preferable to this!”

Her roommate smiled indulgently; Marjorie was always so willing to admit it when she was wrong.

“But what are we going to do—all evening?” she inquired. “It’s silly to sit here uselessly, and evidently these young flappers have no intention of speaking to us.”

Marjorie resolutely assumed a look of defiance.

“I’m going to stay here until I have watched every single girl through a whole dance. During each intermission I’m going out to make my notes.”

Lily sighed; the prospect was not alluring.

“Miss Winthrop surely will get a thorough report,” she remarked. “Which girl are you going to begin with?”

“The one they called Aggie. I’m trying to think of a word to describe her. ‘Mushy’ doesn’t seem soft enough!”

“You’re cruel, Marj! How old do you think she is?”