Aside from Phillip’s love affairs, the only incident concerning the persons of this story worthy of note is the election of John in mid-December to the office of Class Day Secretary, and the selection, a week prior, of Guy Bassett for Vice-President of the Freshman Class. The latter event was duly celebrated in Guy’s room at a Saturday night orgy of beer and cavendish. There was no poker. Of late—in fact, since Phillip had lost a month’s allowance to Guy and had paid it with exemplary promptness—their host had on every occasion shown a strange disinclination for cards and had politely but firmly refused to produce them. To-night he offered a new explanation:
“As Vice-President of the Class, it behooves me to set an example of righteousness to you and Phil. The vice-presidency is an office created for a purpose, and that purpose is the moral betterment of the class. Although I say it who shouldn’t, Chesty, the selection of myself for the position was a wise step. I am firmly convinced that I was cut out for a home missionary.”
“You be blowed,” answered Chester in disgust. “I saw you playing cards at the Union the other night.”
“Not poker, I swear!”
“What’s the difference? Cards are cards, and——”
“Very well, old chap, cards are cards. Who’s for a nice game of casino?”
Strange to relate, the suggestion was not well received.
About a week later Phillip found himself, to his surprise, engaged in packing a small trunk with apparel for the recess. The end of the term had come so suddenly that it found him rather bewildered and quite at a loss to know whether to welcome or regret its advent. His delight in the prospect of homecoming and of acting as host to John North was offset by his dismay at the idea of being parted from Betty for a fortnight. His leavetaking from that enigmatic young person had been far from satisfactory to him. It had been devoid of any of the solemnity and tender sadness that, to him at least, had appeared befitting. Betty had been more than usually high-spirited and matter-of-fact, and had refused to recognize the propriety of sentimental farewells. She had also scoffed at the notion of letter-writing.
“But you know I—I love you, Betty!” Phillip had pleaded.