“Why—not angry, Frank. But you must realize that it was a new experience.”
“Did you find him ill-bred?”
“Why, no—not that; but——”
“I thought you might as well see all sides of college life. I knew you’d meet the club-men. And there’s a particular reason why you’ll have to be nice to Tom—he wants to make me president of the class just now.”
“President of the class!”
“Yes. Politics, you see!”
“But,” she exclaimed, “why haven’t you told me about it?”
“I didn’t know until yesterday. Things have been shaping themselves. You see, the feeling in the ‘Yard’ has grown more bitter, and yesterday a committee came to me and asked if I’d stand against Shackleford, who’s been picked by the Auburn Street crowd, and was expected to go in without opposition. I said I’d have to think it over. I might accept the position if I was elected, but of course, I wouldn’t do any wire-pulling—wouldn’t seek any man’s vote. They said that was all they wanted. But I don’t know; it’s a difficult question for me.”
“But why?”
“Well, you see, they’ll rake up the story of my father.”