“We will vote on that,” decided the chairman, and it went overwhelmingly in favor of a show of hands.
“We’ve got ’em!” exulted Tom, when this test had demonstrated how few were with Bascome—a scant score.
A moment later the real voting was under way, by a show of hands, Kerr’s name being voted on first. He had tried to make a speech, but had been induced to keep quiet.
It was as might have been expected. Possibly had the ballot been a secret one more might have voted for Fenton, but some freshmen saw which way the wind was blowing, changing their votes after having declared for a secret ballot, and all of Bascome’s carefully laid plans, and his scheming for several weeks past, to get some sort of control of the nine, came to naught. Fenton received nine votes, and Kerr one hundred and twenty. It was a pitiful showing, and Fenton soon recognized it.
“I move the election of Mr. Kerr be made unanimous!” he cried, and that did more to offset his many references to his uncle than anything else he could have done. Bascome was excitedly whispering to some of his chums, but when Fenton’s motion was put it was carried without a vote in opposition, and Kerr was the unanimous choice.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” said Phil with a sigh of relief, as he and his chums drifted from the gymnasium.
“Yes, now we’ll begin to play ball in earnest,” added Tom. “Come on, Sid, I’ll take you and Phil down to Hoffman’s and treat you to some ice cream.”
“I—er—I’m going out this evening,” said Sid, and he blushed a trifle.
“Where, you old dub?” asked Tom, almost before he thought.