“Why not?”
“My family don’t want me to, for one thing. Then I want to keep myself in good condition.”
“Most fellows wouldn’t care much for either of those reasons,” said Mulcahy. “You’re expected to do what the rest do.”
Sam did not reply to this; he was thinking how hard it often was to resist doing the things which the rest did.
“People at home don’t know anything about what is necessary in a school like this,” continued Mulcahy. “If you want to get on, you mustn’t go against the crowd.”
“I don’t care anything about getting on,” said Sam. “I’m not ambitious.”
“You’d like to be popular, wouldn’t you?”
“No!” Sam answered decidedly. “I shouldn’t want to be disliked, but holding office and that kind of thing doesn’t interest me. There’s too much hard feeling and disappointment.”
Mulcahy laughed. “You don’t know anything about it. Now, I got beaten to-night. Do you suppose I’m discouraged? Not a bit. I’ll lie low for a while and work my game and wait. By and by things will come my way. If you just hang on to a thing long enough, don’t make mistakes and don’t get mad, you wear away the opposition after a time. There’s another election this year, and there’s another year after this. I’ll be president of the Laurel Leaf before I leave this place. See if I don’t.”
Again a silence. Sam believed in Mulcahy’s prophecy, but the tone of it grated on him.