"Well, they'd no need to. They were both jolly certain that Miss Pollard would make them monitresses. It's easy to talk loftily when you're sure of your innings."
"No--but then, of course, Mavis wouldn't!"
"Oh--because she's Mavis! I can't see her doing it somehow. What a long time Miss Mitchell and Miss Fanny are over their counting! I wish they'd hurry up. I want to go home to tea."
The girls had not much longer, however, to wait.
In the course of a few minutes the new mistress entered the hall and read out the important result.
"The polling is as follows," she announced.
"Muriel Burnitt . . . 27 Mavis Ramsay . . . 20 Merle Ramsay . . . 19 Edith Carey . . . 14 Aubrey Simpson . . . 12
"The two monitresses elected, therefore, are Muriel Burnitt and Mavis Ramsay."
Some of the girls raised a cheer, others took no notice; Miss Mitchell, who seemed in a hurry, vanished back into the study. The boarders, hearing their tea-bell, made for the hostel.
"Congrats, Mavis!" said Iva, as she walked away arm-in-arm with Nesta. "I'm glad the lot has fallen on you. Muriel was pretty sure of a walk-over, but it was a toss-up who was to be the fourth. I don't mind telling you I voted for you myself. And so did Nesta, I'm sure."
"It was a ballot, and I'm not going to let out whom I voted for!" declared Nesta. "Some people can't keep their own secrets! All the same, I'm glad it's you, Mavis. I wouldn't have had Aubrey a monitress for worlds."
The Ramsays walked home together along the High Street to Bridge House. Muriel Burnitt, escorted by Florrie and Viola Leach and the three little Andrews, was on in front, pluming herself upon her victory. The Careys had disappeared down the short cut to the Vicarage. Mavis hardly dared to look at Merle. The latter kept her face turned away and blinked her eyes hard. She had enough self-restraint not to weep openly in the High Street. When they reached their own door however, she bolted through the surgery entrance and, running into the garden, hid herself in the summer-house, whither Mavis, after a word to Aunt Nellie, presently followed her to offer what consolation she could.
"It's not that I'm jealous of _you_!" sobbed Merle stormily. "I wanted us both to win! What does Muriel know about a decent game of hockey, or how to conduct a society, or run a school magazine? It's idiotic that she should be chosen. Neither she nor Iva nor Nesta has ever been at a big school. A precious bungle they'll make of their meetings. I know _you'll_ be there--but you're so gentle you'll never stand up against them, and they'll have everything their own silly way. 'The Moorings' won't be very much changed if it's just to be run upon the same old lines. I shan't bother to try and help. I might have done so much if they'd elected me, but what's the use now? I'm frightfully and frantically disappointed. If Miss Mitchell had had any sense she'd have waited a fortnight till she got to know the girls, and then have chosen the monitresses herself. If it's Miss Fanny's fault, I'm not friends with her any more! Tea-time, did you say? I suppose I shall have to come in then, though I really don't want any. Ugh! I hate everything!"