At last, after what seemed an interminable week to our three friends Saturday night came, and the forty members of the Dealonian Society met in solemn conclave in the Library. Tony took the chair, looking a trifle nervous and anxious, and called the meeting to order. Kit was present, sitting well back, and assumed an air of bland indifference to the proceedings. There were four new members to be elected from the Fifth Form.
Routine business was transacted for a quarter of an hour, and at last the president announced, “If there is no objection, we will proceed to the election of new members. As I wish to place a name in nomination, I will ask Mr. Wendell to take the chair.”
Billy Wendell, the head prefect, captain of the football team, and the last year’s president of the Dealonian, rose from his seat, and took the chair behind the big desk in a very solemn way, very much as a president pro tem. walks up to the platform of the Senate. He settled himself, coughed slightly, and recognized Tony. “Mr. Deering has the floor,” he observed in judicial tones.
“Mr. President and members of the Dealonian Society, I desire to place in nomination for membership in this society the name of Jacob Finch of the Fifth Form.” As this was expected, the boys showed little surprise. Jimmie glanced back at Kit, and saw his lips curl with faint contempt. Tony too glanced about him; then, after a moment’s hesitation, he threw back his shoulders, and addressed the Society. He cast aside now the solemn traditional oratorical form that the boys made an effort to assume, and his clear sweet voice rang with feeling. “Fellows,” he said, “I believe, as we all do, that this Society has the right to consider itself the most important institution in the school, and I realize that I am nominating one for membership in it, who, according to all standards we have set for ourselves and which have been so well maintained through many school generations, seems not to have a shadow of right to election. We want here fellows whose opinion counts, whose influence will be strong and positive, who have done and are able to do things for the school, in athletics, in scholarship, and in various other ways. I can’t pretend that I think that Jacob Finch will stand for these things or will do these things. But for once, it seems to me, that other considerations should weigh with us.”
The boys were startled by the unusual feeling in Deering’s voice and by the unconventional arguments he was using to urge his candidate upon their favor, and they settled into attitudes of deep attention.
“At the beginning of the year,” Tony went on, “a new boy came amongst us who, as we all know, has been treated as no boy ever was who came to the school before. He has been brutally hazed, and for months his life has been made miserable by young and old, and unfortunately he has had no way of defending himself. He has never had a chance, he hasn’t got a square deal. I have got to know him, I suppose, better than anyone else, and while I don’t claim or even think that he is an unusual fellow, I do believe there is something in him that could be made to count for the school if he had a show; if it could really be proved to him that you fellows were willing to make him one of yourselves, give him not merely a fair, but a generous chance. I don’t want you merely to admit him to this Society because I ask it as a favor to me, though I hope you will do it for that reason if you won’t do it for any other; but I ask you to vote for him as an act of generous kindness toward a chap who hasn’t had the chance that any of us have had, whose life in this school up to now has been downright hell.”
With that Tony sat down. A ripple of conversation went round the room. The boys were quite won by this unusual appeal to their generosity and sympathy. Billy Wendell called them sharply to order. “Are there any further remarks upon Finch?”
Half a dozen fellows rose one after another, and declared, with a certain amount of feeling and a certain lack of grace, that they agreed with Deering, and that they thought Finch ought to be elected. Jimmie wanted to speak for Tony’s sake, but he could not quite bring himself to do so. In his heart he agreed with Kit that Tony’s judgment on this occasion was mistaken, and that were Finch elected it would not accomplish for him what Tony so generously hoped. There was a pause after good-natured Clayton had uttered a few stuttering sentimental remarks. Then Kit Wilson rose up quickly. His face was flushed, he seemed nervous, but there were lines of dogged determination about his mouth.
“Mr. Chairman,” he said, “we have all been moved by the eloquence of our popular president. I want to say, however, that I feel very strongly that the considerations that should guide us in this affair are not those of sentiment or of personal friendship. I think, Mr. Chairman, that the president of this Society has no right to ask us to vote for a fellow on his nomination as a personal favor to himself. The argument that it is up to us to give Finch a better show in the school than he’s had, by electing him to this Society is no doubt generous, but it is sentimental. I agree with Mr. Deering that we should do everything in our power to make Finch’s life a pleasanter and a happier one than it probably has been. I do not think, however, that to do this it is necessary to elect him to the Dealonian Society, the membership of which is supposed to be made up of those who really represent the various activities of the school. I sincerely trust he will not be elected.”
With that he sat down, and some one immediately called for a vote. The Dealonian voted on membership by roll call, the secretary reading the names and the boys responding Placet or Non Placet, as the case might be. To Tony’s surprise boy after boy voted in the affirmative. Tack Turner, one of “the crowd,” was the first to blackball, but after him the voting again was favorable. Wilson’s name was the last called. “Non Placet,” he said quietly, without looking up.