Hal knew there was no use of arguing with his Aunt Sarah, and he did not try to reason with her further. But when he left her she had not convinced him that it was his duty to seek the office of first lieutenant.
Among those who besought him to become a candidate, perhaps the hardest one to refuse was Chick, or, as he had come to be known since the evening when, in a spirit of wrath and contempt, Barriscale gave him the title, General Chick. For Hal had no greater admirer, and no more devoted follower in the company, nor indeed in the whole city, than Chick Dalloway.
It was at the armory just prior to the Thursday evening drill that Chick said to him:
“I couldn’t stay in the company no longer if Sergeant Barriscale was elected first lieutenant.”
“Why not, Chick?” asked Hal.
“Oh, he’d lord it over everybody,” was the reply. “He’s bad enough as first sergeant. I don’t know what he would be if he was first lieutenant. You’ve got to run, Sergeant ’Cormack; you’ve simply got to run. We’ll see that you’re ’lected, all right. I’ll work my hands an’ feet off, an’ my head, too. An’ they’s plenty more of us’ll do the same thing. I know. I’ve heard the boys talk. Won’t you run, Sergeant ’Cormack?”
“No, Chick. I’m sorry to disappoint you; I’m awfully sorry; but I can’t run. It—it wouldn’t be quite right for me to run, Chick, feeling as I do about certain things.”
“What things, Sergeant ’Cormack?”
“I’ll tell you some time. In the meantime you stay with the company and take whatever comes, and make the best of it, like a good soldier.”