Soon after four o'clock, therefore, Forms VI, VA, and VB assembled in the lecture hall. A monitress dealt out papers, and in a moment or two Miss Cartwright, the Principal, stepped on to the platform.
"I should like to remind you, girls, of the few essential rules of our election," she began. "They are very simple. No one, of course, must vote for herself. Each girl is put on her honour not to be influenced by personal bias, but to choose for the good of the school. On your papers you will find five divisions--Musical, Literary, Dramatic, Arts and Handicrafts, and Games. Opposite each you are to write the names of one member of the Sixth Form and one of the Fifth. You must sign your own name to the paper, but this will be treated as confidential. I shall myself count the results."
"You vote for me, Mildred, for the Musical, and I'll vote for you," whispered Lottie Lowman, who happened to be sitting next to Mildred Lancaster. "We can't vote for ourselves, so exchange is no robbery, is it?"
Mildred coloured with embarrassment. She had already scribbled "Maudie Stearne" on her paper, not "Lottie Lowman", and it was tiresome to be thus cornered.
"These are the secrets of the confessional!" she murmured, trying to pass it off as a joke.
"Nonsense! We can't be so strict as all that. See, I've put 'Mildred Lancaster'. Let me look at yours."
As Lottie advanced her paper, Mildred hastily snatched hers away, but not before her companion had obtained a glance which told her of its contents. The slight rustle attracted the notice of Miss Cartwright, who fixed such a glare upon the two girls that each at once sat at stiff "attention", and as if unaware of the other's existence. In dead silence the voting was finished, the papers carefully folded, collected, and handed in.
"It will take me about ten minutes to count," said the Principal. "You can all go to the dressing-room I will pin the result on the notice board as soon as I possibly can."
The girls filed from the lecture hall with a sense of relief. To sit waiting for the news would have been a sore trial of patience; it was far more satisfactory to spend the interval in donning hats and coats. Besides, in the dressing-room they could talk, and they certainly did not neglect the privilege. No sooner were they clear of the silence bounds than they broke into a perfect babel of chatter, discussing the pros and cons of the election. Some openly avowed how they had voted, some stuck to their privilege of secrecy, but all were ready to debate the chances of others. Mildred sat lacing her boots and listening to the various scraps of conversation that reached her. She hardly dared to hope for her own success, yet among the whole Form no one more ardently desired a delegateship than herself. To be a representative of the musical side of St. Cyprian's particularly appealed to her. She felt it was almost in the nature of a sacred trust.