“’Course she does. He’s still tied to her apron-string,” put in Coyle.
“I suppose you think such talk is very smart,” said Gordon, trying hard to look undisturbed, “but I think we are all old enough to begin to act like gentlemen, to say the least, and some of us mean to show that we are gentlemen. We are going to form a law and order society, and elect a president and secretary, and see what we can do to make our section one to be proud of.”
“Suppose one of our crowd should get the most votes for president,” queried Crawford, “what then?”
“I’m perfectly willing one of your crowd should be president, provided he will pledge himself to forward the objects of the society,” said Gordon, as he pulled a book from his desk, and opening it, added, “A few of us who feel pretty deeply on this subject have drawn up a rough pledge which every member joining our association must sign—and keep.”
“Go ahead, Deacon, read it out,” called Henderson.
“Yes, stand up like a little man and read right out,” added Crawford; and Gordon read:—
“We, the undersigned deeply regretting that our section has gained such an undesirable reputation, do pledge ourselves to do all in our power to maintain order in school hours, and to raise the standard of scholarship, of conduct and of conversation in section D.”
To this ten names were affixed—including Gordon, Graham and Sherman.
“You must think we are all fools if you believe we’re going to tie ourselves up like that,” shouted Henderson with his coarse laugh as Gordon finished reading.
“A fellow wants a little fun even in school,” said another.