“I’ll second that,” declared Pat Tyson good-naturedly.
“Moved and seconded—”
“You can’t! The meeting’s adjourned,” laughed some one.
“Forget it! Kemble is unanimously elected Captain of the Wyndham—no, of the Fighting Scrub, and may Heaven help him!”
To which sentiment the party laughingly dissolved, hurrying off to arm themselves for study hour.
“Well, I don’t see how it happened,” said Clif as he and Tom went back to West. “It’s great, Tom, and I’m awfully pleased, but I certainly was surprised!”
“It was a regular bolt from the blue,” agreed Tom gravely. “Look here, did you vote for me?”
“Of course I did!”
“That’s funny then.”
“What is?”