Stuart laughed. “I thought that was it,” he said. “Well, you should have taken it, old man. I’d rather see you captain than any one. If any one could get along with Haynes it’s you, I guess. If you get the chance again you take it and stop being a silly ass.”
Jack shook his head, “I don’t believe I’d want it,” he muttered.
That was Sunday morning. Monday Jack sought Stuart again just before dinner. “Look here,” he began, plainly embarrassed, “they’ve gone and done it, the crazy jays.”
“Done what?”
“Appointed me captain. The Ath. Fac. I got word half an hour ago. Isn’t that the limit?”
“I don’t see anything to be insulted about,” answered Stuart. He tried to sound cordial, but he didn’t succeed. “You’d better accept, I’d say.”
“Fellows tell me I’ve got to,” muttered Jack. “I’d a heap rather not. It—it seems sort of rotten. I mean toward you.”
Stuart laughed shortly. “Don’t mind me, Jack. I’m out of it completely. You wouldn’t do me any good by refusing.”
“You’re quite sure you wouldn’t mind?” asked Jack anxiously.
“Absolutely, old son. Go to it!” Stuart managed to get the right note that time, and Jack caught it and smiled his relief.