“I should get a job in a bond house. I might go to New York. I mean to get into the promotion of big things—big corporation business. A fellow that finances street railways and industrial plants, controls banks and makes towns grow—a builder; that’s what I mean to be.”
“That’s all right; and now you’re laying your foundation. Building is slow work. You mustn’t be impatient.”
“I’m not impatient of anything but time wasted!” cried Lester.
“Well, it won’t do for you to pull up stakes and clear out, even if your father does consent to anything so foolish,” said David crisply. “We’re going to run you for first marshal, and you’ve got to stay and get elected.”
Whether David realized it or not, he could not have brought forward an argument that would have been more effective with Lester. To be elected first marshal was to win the highest non-scholastic honor attainable in the university. Lester showed his interest at once.
“Oh, there’s no chance. Farrar will get that. Captain of the football team. It’s a sure thing for him.”
“There’s quite a feeling that on your record you deserved the captaincy and that the best thing the class can do is to make it up to you by electing you first marshal. That’s a thing that it’s worth staying in college for, even if the degree isn’t.”
“Oh, if there were a chance of my getting it, sure. But I guess this is just a case where you’re blinded by friendship, old man.”
“Farrar’s got his supporters, of course, and so has Jim Colby got his. But most of the fellows I see think that you’re the man; your work on the football and baseball teams and the fact that you’re generally popular make you the most likely candidate.”
“There’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do to be first marshal,” said Lester. All the discontent had been smoothed out of his face; his eyes were shining. He seated himself on the corner of his desk and threw his arm round David. “You’re certainly a mighty good friend, Dave, to want to put me across. And I know that your backing will count for a lot; everybody thinks a lot of you.”