First thing we know, you'll begin, 'Ladies and fellow constituents.'" Kit waited until the laugh had subsided, and Peggy had replaced the shell pins from her tumbled braids after a tussle with "the Jinx," who took all political allusions as personal affronts.
"There are few of us here to-day, if any," continued Kit, slowly, one eye watching the concrete walk across the campus from the nearest window, "who can boast of a Hope founder in her family." "I can, almost," interrupted Antoinette, otherwise Tony; "my big sister Marie was engaged for a very little while to Bernard Giron.

If she had only married him, we would have had a 'Founder' in the family." "Tony," said Kit, severely, "I am dealing with facts, not prospects, and you ought not to reveal any family secrets, either.

I say it is a great honor to be a direct descendant of a 'Founder,' and we have one in our class.

A girl, too modest to take advantage of her grandfather's record." She paused impressively, but with a quickening gleam in her eyes, as there suddenly have in view a hurrying figure in gray sweater and dark crimson cap on the campus walk.

It was Marcelle herself, late, but in time to create the desired sensation.
Kit drew a deep breath, and plunged back to her subject, considering exactly the time it would take for the belated guest to reach the study.
"Since all the girls here belong to this dormitory, it seems appropriate that the founder whose memory we honor should be Malcolm Douglas.