“I’ve made up my mind, Jim, so that’s all there is to it. I’m going to put Finch up next Saturday night, and in the meantime I’m going to work hard to try to get the fellows to vote for him. I hope you won’t blackball him.” “No, I won’t do that, Tony; but I wish you’d see Kit and talk it over with him in a friendly way.” “I’ll talk it over with Kit, if he wants to talk it over with me; but he has got to drop his swagger and bulldozing manner, if he wants to.” “Look here, old man; Kit’s just impulsive; that’s all. Suppose I, after I had thought it over, made up my mind that it would be a bad thing for the Society and blackballed Finch, would you let that make any difference between us?” Tony thought a moment. “No, old chap, of course it wouldn’t. I’d be sorry, of course, because I would feel you were wrong. But it isn’t being opposed that makes me sore, it’s Kit’s blustering blowing way of doing it.” Jimmie went that night and sat on Tony’s bed for a long time after lights. They said nothing more about Kit or Finch, but talked intimately of a variety of other things in which they were interested, in the old close pleasant way. It was a long happy quiet talk and it did much to strengthen their friendship in the times of stress that were coming. The conversations we have recorded took place well along in the winter term on a Monday night in March. The following Saturday evening was the date of the important meeting of the Dealonian Society at which new members were elected. Tony spent a zealous week campaigning for Finch, and found it a disheartening business. Most of the boys—there were about forty members of the Society—protested, but after long persuasion, promised to cast favorable votes, though they took pains, almost without exception, to assure Tony that they were doing it simply because he asked them. Others refused definitely to commit themselves, and Tony had to be content with that. To Jimmie’s distress, Kit kept away from Number Five study all that week, and refused to make any advances toward setting things right with Tony. “I’ll talk it over, if he comes to me,” he would say to Jimmie over and over. “But I am going to blackball Finch, and I guess I can persuade at least one other fellow to do the same, so he won’t get into the Dealonian. Tony can do what he pleases. After it’s all over, if he wants to make up, well and good; I’ll have no hard feelings: if he don’t,—well, well and good, also.” At last, after what seemed an interminable week to our three friends Saturday night came, and the forty members of the Dealonian Society met in solemn conclave in the Library. Tony took the chair, looking a trifle nervous and anxious, and called the meeting to order. Kit was present, sitting well back, and assumed an air of bland indifference to the proceedings. There were four new members to be elected from the Fifth Form.