"Eight officers, and they are all chosen. They will constitute the original second degree men, and, after they have been instructed, we shall be ready to admit you all to that enviable distinction. Now, the Q. D. and the Y. D. K. will count the members."
The number reported was eighty-two, which was nearly a majority of the students in the squadron.
"Who knows?" called the C. B.
"Eighty-two knows," replied several.
"That's enough to put a veto on the De Forresters. Now, remember the solemn pledge you have taken, to vote for Cantwell, to say nothing to nobody, and never to eat soup with a darning-needle."
"To all these three I do agree," responded the members, laughing.
"Although the last is the most important, the first is not to be neglected; and any member who knows, and don't do, shall be headed up in a mackerel kit and thrown overboard by the R. P. F., before he takes the second degree, in which the sublime mysteries of the order will be fully elucidated. Who knows?"
Scott coined jokes and puns for a few moments, to the intense enjoyment of the members; and by this time four of the outsiders desired to become members. They were immediately admitted.
"Who knows?"
"Eighty-six noes."