he girl who held
it became the delegate and mouthpiece of the lower forms, an
acknowledged authority, and the general leader of the rest. It was the
custom to elect the warden by ballot on the afternoon of the reopening
day. Six candidates were selected by Miss Tempest, and these were voted
for by the members of the several divisions of the Third and Fourth
Forms.

Among the six chosen for this election, none was more excited about her
possible chances than Dorothy Greenfield, and as our story centres round
her and her doings she merits a few words of description. She was a
tall, slim, rather out-of-the-common-looking girl, and though at present
she was passing through the ugly duckling stage, she had several good
points, which might develop into beauty later on. Her large dark grey
eyes, with their straight, well-marked brows, made you forgive her
nondescript nose. She lacked colour, certainly, but her complexion was
clear, and, despite her rather thin cheeks, the outline of her face was
decidedly pleasing. Her mouth was neat and firm, and her chin square;
and she had a quantity of wavy, fluffy brown hair that had an
obstreperous way of escaping from its ribbon and hanging over her ears.
During the past six months Dorothy had shot up like Jack's beanstalk,
and she was still growing fast--an awkward process, which involved a
certain angularity of both body and mind. She was apt to do things by
fits and starts; she formed hot attachments or took violent prejudices;
she was amiable or irritable according to her mood, and though capable
of making herself most attractive, could flash out with a sharp retort
if anybody offended her. She had a favourable report in the school: she
was generally among those marked "excellent" in her form, and she was
above the average at hockey and tennis, had played a piano solo at the
annual concert, won "highly commended" at the Arts and Crafts
Exhibition, and contributed an article to the School Magazine.

Possessing such a good all-round record, therefore, Dorothy might have
as reasonable a possibility of success as anybody else at the coming
election, and she could not help letting her hopes run high. The ballot
was to be taken at half-past three, which left little time for
canvassing; but she meant to do the best for herself that circumstances
would allow. She was a day boarder, so, when morning classes were over,
she strolled into the Juniors' Common Room to discuss her chances.
Alrea