Neil let that pass without comment. After a moment he asked: “Do you really think it will work badly, Stuart, this new plan?”
“Oh, I don’t know. But what’s the good of it? We got along all right before, didn’t we? Why does he have to come and upset things? Faculty’s crazy to give in to him this way, too.”
“Well, let’s wait and see how it turns out,” advised Neil. “Mr. Haynes must think he’s right, or he wouldn’t advocate it. If he’s wrong, of course they’ll go back to the training table again. Just don’t let it upset you, Stuart. That’s the main thing. Steady on, eh?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter about me,” muttered Stuart ironically. “I’m only the captain!”
CHAPTER V
A CLASH OF AUTHORITY
Manning disposed of Lansing High School the next day without difficulty. The score, 20 to 0, did not, in fact, represent the true strength of the home team, for in the last half Coach Haynes ran in a bewildering number of substitutes who, while they held the opponent from scoring, were not able to add to the twenty points already won. The Cherry-and-Gray showed excellent form, rather better than was customary in a first contest, and Manning strolled away from the field comfortably certain that this year’s “Cherries” were going to prove themselves one of the Big Teams in the school’s history. Indeed, with practically six seasoned veterans to build around, there was no apparent reason why the team shouldn’t turn out to be as good as any in recent years. Stuart was in gay spirits that evening, and only the fact that his proposal of Neil to membership in Lyceum was to be acted on kept him from joining Jack and “Howdy” Tasker and Fred Locker and several more of the football crowd in a visit to Safford’s one movie house. Jack, bursting hilariously into Number 12 after supper with an announcement of the party, had to be satisfied with Neil’s acceptance. Stuart watched them join the others at the gate and go off along School Lane, and felt rather virtuous and heroic.
When he reached Lyceum House he found that various Saturday night diversions had reduced the attendance at the first regular meeting to less than a score of fellows. Stearns Wilson was there of course, for he was President, and so, in his rôle of faculty director, was Mr. Moffit. Thurston, Whaley, Tom Muirgart and Steve Le Gette represented the football element. Stuart wasn’t especially pleased to see Le Gette, who was a big, dark-complexioned, curly-haired fellow of eighteen, a senior and candidate for a tackle position. Stuart had nothing especial against the other. He doubted if they had spoken a hundred words to each other since they had been in school. But he didn’t like Le Gette’s sardonic smile, which always made him feel that the big black-haired fellow was secretly laughing at him, and he was pretty certain that Le Gette liked him no better. But his annoyance at sight of the other—if it deserved the name—was slight and passing.
The secretary was painfully long-winded with his report, but he finished it at last and at least six members relievedly moved its adoption. Balloting on the names of five candidates for election started then. Neil’s name came last, and Stuart made his little speech—and did it very well since he had the knack of talking well to an audience—and Stearns Wilson seconded the proposal very nicely, saying much more than Stuart had dared hope he would when he had enlisted his aid. As no one asked Mr. Moffit’s opinion, the director could not enter the lists on behalf of the candidate. But after all, Stuart reflected, it was of no consequence, for among the small number present there was surely no one to vote against a fellow as well liked as Neil. Even as he made this reflection, though, his gaze fell on Steve Le Gette and an instant’s doubt assailed him. But it passed quickly. Blackballing a candidate for election to Lyceum was something that wasn’t done without good cause, without strong conviction of the candidate’s undesirability, and Le Gette scarcely knew Neil and certainly could have nothing against him. George Whaley briefly added his second and voting began. Each member walked to the table, picked a ball from the outer compartment of the box and dropped it into the inner. Conversation, interrupted by the speeches, began again. Stuart, talking to Mr. Moffit, faltered as he watched Le Gette stride to the box and cast his vote, and then secretly laughed at himself for his doubt.
Will Severence, the secretary, drew aside the cover as casually as he had on four previous occasions. Then, however, his manner altered abruptly and he glanced swiftly, questioningly about the room. After a moment’s hesitation he announced: “One contrary vote, fellows,” and held up a little black ball. A second of silence followed. Then several spoke at once, but it was Muirgart’s voice that was loudest.