“Now I think Pledge takes it very well,” said Heathcote.
Whereat there was a mighty laugh in the Den as the joke passed round, and the phenomenon of the “green new kid” blushing scarlet all over attracted general curiosity, and stopped the proceedings for several minutes.
As soon as order was restored, other elections were proceeded with, including the school librarian and the post fag, the duty of which latter office was to distribute the letters which came by the post to their respective owners. For this office there was always great competition, each “set” being anxious to get one of its own members, on whom it could depend.
The contest this year lay between Pauncefote, of Westover’s, and Duffield of Purbeck’s, and ever since the term opened canvassing had been going on actively on behalf of the respective candidates. I regret to say the laws relating to elections at Templeton were not as rigid as those which regulate public elections generally, and bribery and corruption were no name for some of the unscrupulous practices resorted to by the friends of either party to secure a vote. If a small boy ventured to express so much as a doubt as to his choice, his arm would be seized by the canvassing party and screwed till the required pledge was given. And woe to that small boy if an hour later the other side caught him by the other arm and begged the favour of his vote for their man! Nothing short of perjury would keep his arm in its socket. Nor was it once or twice only that the youth of Templeton would be made to forswear itself over the election of post fag. Several times a day the same luckless voter might be made to yield up his promise, until, at the end of a week, he would become too confused and weary to recollect for which side his word of honour had last been given. Nor did it much matter, for his vote in Hall depended entirely on the company nearest within reach of his arm; and if, by some grim fatality, he should chance to get with one arm towards each party, the effort of recording his vote was likely to prove one of the most serious undertakings of his mortal life.
Our heroes, luckily for them, found themselves planted in the midst of Pauncefote’s adherents, so that they experienced no difficulty at all in making up their minds how they should vote. They either did not see or did not notice a few threatening shouts and pantomimic gestures addressed to them by some of Duffield’s supporters in a remote corner of the room, and held up their hands for his opponent with the clear conscience of men who exercise a mighty privilege fearlessly.
“Stick up both hands,” said Gosse. “We shall be short.”
“It wouldn’t be fair,” said Dick, boldly.
“Howling prig!” said Gosse, in disgust, “canting young hypocrite; you’ll get it hot, I can tell you, if—”
“Shut up!” shouted Dick, rounding on him with a fierceness which astonished himself. It was a show to see the way in which Gosse collapsed under this thunderclap of righteous indignation. He looked round at Dick out of the corners of his eyes, very much as a small dog contemplates the boot that has just helped him half-way across the road, and positively forgot to keep his own grimy hand raised aloft till the counting was finished.
“Pauncefote has 108 votes. Now those who are in favour of Duffield?”