Stuart grunted. “Huh, a lot of attention you fellows paid to him, I’ll say!”
Jack grinned. “We certainly did. We stuffed the ballot box, old son. We saw that it wouldn’t be any use to tender the captaincy to you, so we stuffed it down your silly throat!”
Stuart’s pretended indignation faded to a smile as he sat himself on the window seat and took one knee into his hands. Jack perched beside him and Neil swung his chair around to face them after he had turned down the light halfway. “Who started it, Jack?” asked Stuart.
“I don’t know, really. Nobody, I guess. That is, it seemed to be sort of taken for granted all around that you were to have it. The only—only conspiracy was to-night before dinner. Then we sort of fixed to railroad the election through. You weren’t to have any chance to refuse it, or, if you did kick up your heels, we weren’t to pay any attention to you. Of course, everything was strictly according to Hoyle——”
“Yes, it was!” jeered Stuart. “Suppose I didn’t see how you refused to recognize Harry Leonard?”
“Well,” said Jack, “Leonard was only delaying traffic. He had a fool notion that Tom Hanson wanted the election.”
“Didn’t he?”
“Who, Tom? I don’t believe so. Anyhow, he hadn’t a chance, and it was an act of simple kindness to keep him from making a show of himself. Besides, I did give Leonard a chance to speak his little piece, and he wouldn’t.” Jack grinned. “That was after I’d seen Leo talking to him. Maybe Leo showed him the futility of—er—his course.”
Stuart grunted again, and Neil said wistfully: “I wish I’d been there!”