Chapter 7
It wasn't till supper that Mrs. Emmons decided to explain why Trudy and Gert weren't at their usual places at the head of the long rectangular table. "They both left notes, girls," she said, never so happy before in all these long years as now that she knew herself to be the bearer of such vital tidings. "You'll just have to elect new officers, because they aren't coming back."
"My gosh," blurted Cissy Williams, the pudgy senior who had served Kathy Andrews the coveted slice of chocolate cake that afternoon, "we better hold a conference tonight because if we don't have a president, we can't pledge or operate at all."
"That's right," cooed Mrs. Emmons, who knew her bylaws as well as any of her young charges.
"Candlelight at nine, girls," Laura Caldwell, who was vice-president and the only remaining officer of the house at the moment. She was a honey-haired senior of medium height and spectacularly ripe bosom and hips, currently deliberating between half a dozen eligible fraternity seniors who wanted to pin her and, better yet, bed her.
So at nine that night, in the basement recreation room, all the DGT girls convened, wearing white nighties and sandals. Mrs. Emmons had placed candlesticks on the tribunal table, and Laura solemnly lit them as she picked up Trudy's gavel and pounded for order. "The first order of business, fellow sisters of Delta Gamma Theta," she declaimed, "is to nominate a successor to Trudy."
"Madame Vice-President!" Joan Sowerby, a lanky ash-blonde junior who was Marwell's women's tennis champion, raised her hand. "I place in nomination the name of Deeana Mason."
Mark's sandy-haired cousin blushed with becoming modesty, and got up to propose Joan's name by way of gratitude. Two other names were offered before Laura Caldwell declared the nominations closed. Then Cissy Williams passed out slips of yellow paper and pencils, and the night-gowned sorority sisters secretively wrote down the name of their choice, folded the slips, and in stately processional, passed in front of the tribunal table to drop the slips into a small hatbox in the lid of which Mrs. Emmons had cut a sizable opening. Laura, who had secretly hoped that her sorority sisters would automatically propose her as the most logical candidate but who hadn't even been nominated, disappointedly counted the slips, opened them and announced each vote to Cissy, who sat beside her industriously keeping tally.
Joan Sowerby had six votes, Clara Ames had five, Marian Johler received eight, and Deeana Mason sixteen, a tally proving that every bona fide DGT member had voted in this most important election. Deeana, who had generously cast her own ballot for Joan, rose amid applause, her cheeks scarlet with embarrassed pleasure, and, at Laura's invitation, took her place at the head of the table. And it was she who now, as senior presiding officer of the sorority, announced the opening of balloting for the office of secretary-treasurer which Gert had let go by default. A spirited and close vote resulted in the victory of Marian Johler, a petite light brunette senior with a winsome, heart-shaped face, who was engaged to the football captain and who had rung up the second largest number of votes for the presidency.
The formal part of the meeting completed, the girls could now plan for next week's select invitational tea. It wouldn't differ much from this afternoon's festivities, except that only those newies who had made a favorable impression today and whom the sorority expected to pledge officially would be present. So Deeana promptly opened discussion on proposals of the names of the fortunate girls who might have the inside track to DGT favor.
"Madame President?" It was Lucy Moran, a patrician brunette with a gravely lovely face, the 21-year-old daughter of a prominent city official from Joliet. She planned to be pinned this Christmas by a young attorney from that same city, and was majoring in business administration so that she could be of secretarial help to her handsome husband-to-be.
"The chair recognizes Sister Moran," Deeana, much to Mrs. Emmons' pleasure, used the formal parliamentary verbiage. It was a standing tradition that every chapter meeting of DGT invite Mrs. Emmons to attend, since she herself was a chapter member of such long standing and therefore--likely to be of great help in the event of arguments over rules and procedure.
"Well, as you know, I spent some time this afternoon with Marge Jones. I think she'd make a fine DGT member. She's a sophomore, just transferred here from Ames because her father sold his farm and moved near Marwell to run the big granary."
"Any comments, pro or con?" Deeana asked. But there was nothing damning against Marge's name, so it was decided to mail her an engraved invitation to be on hand next Wednesday afternoon. And this time, there would be cake, no cookies, because all the guests would be potential candidates for DGT membership.
"Have we more names for sponsorship by Big Sisters?" Deeana went on. And Caroline Tunis, a plump brunette senior, offered the name of Roberta Mac-Donald, an 18-year-old pretty blonde freshman with whom she had chatted most of the afternoon. Roberta came from Ottawa, where her father was fire chief, and she was sweet and quiet and a good student. So there were no blackballs to be cast against her name.
Up for discussion came the names of golden-haired 18 V2-year-old Ruth Jorgenson, endowed with the body of a Venus but not without her fair share of brains, judging by her high school record; 19-year-old auburn-haired svelte Myrna Henshaw, a sophomore who had transferred from Peoria; 18-year-old petite winsome brown-haired Marcia Alton; and Kathy Edwards. All of them were accepted without challenge. And then Deeana herself proposed the name of Eleanor Landers.
"Hey, Madame President, isn't that the redhead who teased a senior frat man into climbing up to her room last month?" Cissy Williams wanted to know.
"The very same, Cissy. You remember her, I'm sure; I was sitting with her there on the couch this afternoon while you were busy with Kathy."
"Sure I remember. Snooty as all get out, if you ask me."
"Well," Deeana wryly commented, "being haughty by nature isn't exactly grounds for blackballing a pledge. Seems to me our dear departed ex-prexy was that way herself."
"I just don't cotton to her, that's all," Cissy grumbled. "Now Kathy Edwards, there's a sweet, all-around nice girl. She'll be a credit to our chapter."
"I quite agree. But we've already ruled on her application, Cissy. Are you going to blackball Eleanor Landers?"
"No, I guess not. Only you watch, she'll want her own way all the time if we let her in."
"Well, I'll offer to be her sponsor and Big Sister if that'll reassure you any, Cissy," Deeana whimsically proposed.
"Okay, it's your responsibility. I'll vote yes, then, in that case," the pudgy senior reluctantly capitulated.
That ended the order of business for the evening, except to vote Mrs. Emmons a unanimous and very hearty show of appreciation for the successful open house this past afternoon and to enlist her services for next Wednesday. Marian Johler, entering into her new office as secretary-treasurer, undertook to mail out the invitations to the lucky seven candidates on whom the choice of Delta Gamma Theta had fallen.
Eleanor Landers had achieved her goal. But it was as well that she didn't know that Kathy Edwards had equaled her in distinction. And still better, for her immediate peace of mind, that she hadn't the faintest inkling that this erstwhile childhood playmate was going to become her bitterest rival in love.