Peggy Parsons a Hampton Freshman Part 6

Her hand reached for Peggy's knee. "How do you like everything, now you're here, and why haven't you been over before?"

"We didn't think you'd remember us," said Peggy.

"There was so much water that day you saw us, at the picnic last year--"

Ditto threw back her head and laughed. "Yes, there was plenty of that,"

she agreed. "I never saw anything so moist as you were. And you-Katherine Foster-yes, I remember your names, too,-I chose you for a friend of mine that day. And I'm positively insulted that neither of you accepted my invitation to come to see me, until I dragged you here on business. Your poem, Peggy,-here it is, I kept it out for you--"

She had risen and lifted the blue-folded paper from a pile of thick stories and "heavies" on the table. And Peggy, watching the nonchalant way she handled the sacred _Monthly_ material, felt her admiration increasing.

"Now," said Ditto, bending over the page with complete concentration, "let's see just what we want to do-I thought that possibly--"

And her st.u.r.dy little blue pencil crept mercilessly through word after word, while Peggy felt the blood pounding into her face and tried not to mind the kindly criticism of her effort.

Peggy was consulted tactfully about each change and asked for suggestions, until, under the skilful guidance of the more experienced writer, the fledgling really developed a verse that would not mar the _Monthly_ pages. Then Ditto gave her a pen and some paper to write it all out again, in the copy that was actually to go to the printer.

Katherine talked to Ditto about her room-mate, while the latter was carefully rewriting her masterpiece.

"You know you've got good material for freshman president, there," said Ditto with something of senior condescension. "An Andrews girl usually has it, and she's the right type. She isn't very self-conscious, she's lots of fun and ready for anything. You can tell that. Why don't you put her up? Your elections are this week, aren't they? Honestly, I've heard of nothing but Peggy Parsons, Peggy Parsons, from all the freshmen protegees of the girls in this house."

Katherine caught fire. "It would be great," she said. "Think of rooming with the cla.s.s president. Oh, I did a clever thing in bringing her to Hampton. I can shine in reflected glory through the whole four years."

"You do it," urged Ditto, "get her elected, I mean. I'll help."

She nodded carelessly toward the huge vase of roses. "I have quite a few little freshmen friends whom I'll-tell about Peggy."

When Peggy handed back the poem with a rueful smile at its many changes, Katherine got up from the couch and took her room-mate's arm. It would never do to linger, though it was hard to leave the great Presence.

Peggy's look as they left the house held simply pleasure and grat.i.tude, but Katherine's brimmed with meaning.

"You don't know what I know," she hummed.

"Then why not tell me?" laughed Peggy.

"I know who's going to be freshman president!"

"Who?"

"Shan't tell you-but I suppose you'll find out when it happens."

"Well," retorted Peggy unexpectedly, "I know already."

"What's-her-name?" gasped Katherine.

"Gloria Hazeltine," answered Peggy.

Katherine stopped and caught her shoulders. Facing her, she studied her calm expression of certainty.

"Why, Peggy," she couldn't help saying, "it was going to be _you_, and I was going to start this very day to campaign for you."

"Me!" scoffed Peggy. "I couldn't even _look_ like a president. The freshman president stands for the whole cla.s.s, and the sophs and juniors and seniors are apt to judge us a good deal by the one we choose for that office. They'd think what flyaways the freshmen are if you had any one like me. Or rather they'd never notice us at all, but would sever diplomatic relations. But Gloria now--"

The vision of the tall, radiant young Westerner, with her red-gold hair and her wide, laughing, blue eyes-the way she talked, the way she wore her clothes, her charm and sincerity of manner-rose vividly in Katherine's mind. She compared this vision with the actual striking little figure of her room-mate, with the flickering dimples showing and disappearing and the warm light that always lay in the depths of her black eyes.

"I-don't-know," she said honestly. "Gloria is wonderful-but you, Peggy, you're so dear."

"I'll give all I have to the cla.s.s," cried Peggy, opening her arms, as if to embrace every girl of the four hundred and fifty freshmen, "but I don't have to be set up in the post of honor to do it."

"But Andrews usually has the presidency," ventured Katherine in a troubled tone. "Ditto Armandale reminded me that our school has always carried off everything, Freshman year. It's _expected_."

"We're not Andrews now, we're Hampton," said Peggy gravely. "Don't you remember the signs in the moving picture shows, from Wilson's proclamation? Something about 'whatever country you came from, you are an American now.'"

"Well, the president-elect is dead, long live the president-elect,"

capitulated Katherine reluctantly.

"Good. I really feel that I owe her an awful lot for taking you away from her," smiled Peggy, grown light-hearted once more. "Being president wouldn't half make up."

Katherine laughed her gratified surprise and began to plan how to draw the solid Andrews vote, in favor of a girl who was not from Andrews.

"I'm going to have a party for Gloria," Peggy mused, "and invite every single freshman in the catalogue. You'll have to help me write the notes to stick up on the bulletin board. And we'll say, 'To meet the freshman cla.s.s president,' and freshmen are such sheep, they'll think she's as good as elected."

"Sheep yourself," flared Katherine. "I think putting anything like that in would be terribly crude. But the rest of the plan I like."

"And I'll dress in my very best and make an impression for her sake,"

Peggy went on, thinking aloud.

"Wear that rose-colored dress and those cute pumps," suggested Katherine, interestedly.

"No, _not_ the rose-colored dress, and _not_ the pumps," Peggy returned with a slight shiver.

The first thing she did, when they reached their room, was to drag the pumps from their hiding place and wrap them carefully in a sheet of newspaper.

"What in the world--?" began Katherine.

"I'm-I'm going to take them to be resoled," murmured Peggy hastily.

CHAPTER V-MORNING GLORY

Freshman elections began with a babble.

Everywhere the insistent voices of the lobbyists were heard. Upper-cla.s.s girls had come in to impress the freshmen as to the proper name to write on the voting slips.

"She's a _dandy_ girl," was shouted confidentially into Peggy's ears so many times, while she didn't know _who_ was nor _why_ she was, that she couldn't help having a high opinion of her cla.s.s altogether. Every girl in it seemed to be "dandy" in somebody's judgment.