“Ugh!” said Georgie, “to think I ever liked him!”
“Now,” said Freckleton, when the voting was over, “to insure the counting being fairly done, I propose that three fellows who have not had the good luck to be on the list be asked to count. I dare say they won’t grudge the trouble, and it will be satisfactory to everybody to know they see fair play for the rest.” (Hear, hear.) “Will any three fellows volunteer?”
Five stood up.
“Will you five choose three among you?” said Freckleton.
This was soon done, and the scrutineers were in a few moments buried in their work, watched eagerly by many anxious eyes.
It took a good while, but to our heroes, as they sat and watched Pledge’s ugly look, the end seemed to come all too soon.
There was a loud hum of excitement when the list, as finally made out, was handed solemnly to Freckleton.
“I think, if you don’t mind,” said the Hermit, passing it back, “as I am an interested party, it would be better if one of you read it.”
“All right,” said the obliging scrutineer. “Gentlemen,—Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I beg to read you the list of the Sociables’ Club. I don’t see my own name on the list, but perhaps you’ll consider the fag we three have been put to this afternoon is a public service for the good of Templeton. If so, please remember the poor scrutineers at the next election.” (Cheers and laughter.) “Now for the list.”
“Better only read the names of the elected ones in each form, and not the number of votes,” suggested Freckleton.