"I've got the whole thing organized sure as a steel trap."
"You haven't lost any time," said Stover, smiling.
"That's right—heaps of fun."
"What are you going to run for?" said Stover, looking at him.
"I? Nothing now. Fence orator, perhaps, later," said Gimbel frankly. "It's the fun of the game interests me—the organizing, pulling wires, all that sort of thing. I'm going to have a lot of fun here."
"Look here, Gimbel," said Stover, yielding to a sudden appreciation of the other's openness. "Isn't this sort of thing going to get a lot of fellows down on you?"
"Queer me?" said Gimbel, laughing.
The word was still new to Stover, who showed his perplexity.
"That's a great word," added his companion. "You'll hear a lot of it before you get through. It's a sort of college bug that multiplies rapidly. Will politics 'queer' me—keep me out of societies? Probably; but then, I couldn't make 'em anyway. So I'm going to have my fun. And I'll tell you now, Stover, I'm going to get a good deal more out of my college career than a lot of you fellows."
"Why include me?"