Ere the cheer had started Don was on his feet.
“Mr. Remsen,” he cried, “won’t you put that pledge to us? I’m sure every fellow here will sign it gladly.”
A chorus of assent arose and much clapping. Remsen turned back to the audience and held up his hand.
“You’ve heard what Cunningham has said. Nothing would please me more than to have you all accept that pledge. Shall I put it to you?”
One deep, hearty “Yes” swept through the room.
“Very well. Suppose you take the pledge by rising. If there are any here who for any reason prefer not to pledge themselves I hope they will keep their seats without any embarrassment. There may be some here to-night who are so certain of their ability to always act rightly that they will not deem a pledge necessary. I shall think no less of those who decline to go through the form.”
The speaker paused and looked about the hall, a smiling brightness in his gray eyes.
“Then after me, fellows, and rise. ‘I will always play fair.’”
“I will always play fair.” The response was earnest and hearty, and before the last word had died away every person in the hall was on his feet—graduates, Professor Beck, and all; not a person remained seated.