d her eyes.
"I do love those sad pieces, don't you?"

"They're all right," said Jack, a little doubtfully, "but don't you like
the funny ones that make you laugh, better? Ria and the Bear was so
funny."

"That poem is really beautiful," declared Betty Randall, turning to
Marjorie, and speaking in a tone of hearty admiration. "She must be an
awfully clever girl to have written it; it's quite good enough to be
published."

But Marjorie did not answer. She had given one violent start when Elsie
began the first line of her poem, and at the same moment she had caught
the expression on Beverly Randolph's face. After that she had sat quite
still, with crimson cheeks, and a heart that was beating so loudly she
was almost afraid people must hear it. In her mind was a mild confusion
of feelings; astonishment, mortification, and incredulity, and, worst of
all, the knowledge that at least one other person in the room besides
herself knew. When the burst of applause came she was conscious of a
momentary sensation of relief. At least no one was going to speak yet.
She cast an imploring glance at Beverly, but his face expressed nothing
beyond amusement and a sort of indifferent contempt.

There were more poems read; some funny, some sentimental; but Marjorie
scarcely heard them. In her thoughts there was room but for one thing.
Even the wonderful story Betty had told about her brother and Dr.
Randolph was swept away in the shock of the discovery she had made.
Several times she glanced at Elsie, fully expecting to see some
expression of shame or remorse but that young lady was looking the
picture of smiling content.

When the poems had all been read, there was a general move, and pencils
and bits of paper were handed around.

"One of the boys will pass round a hat," Lulu explained, "and you must
all drop your votes into it." Then, with a sudden generous impulse, she
went up to Elsie and held out her hand.

"Yours was ever so much the best, Elsie," she said, frankly; "you
certainly deserve to be president."

Elsie just touched the outstretched hand with the tips of her fingers,
and for one moment her eyes dropped and her color deepened.

There was a moment of dead silence while the names were being written,
then Gertie Rossiter's brother passed round the hat, and each girl and
boy dropped a bit of paper into it.

"I shall vote for Elsie Carleton, sha'n't you?" whispered Betty to
Marjorie, but Marjorie shook her head.

"I