“It needn’t have been,--that’s what makes me furious,” returned Ellis. “If McGaw only could have had an inkling of who he was keeping out--” “Yes, I think he would have been the first to turn right around and work like a pup to get him in,” agreed Haydock. “I felt like jumping up and telling everything.” “How awful,--think of the scene!” “Well, it wouldn’t have been much more damnable than it was! Nobody knew where to look. There was just enough truth to what McGaw said--that and the way he got up and did it--it wasn’t as if anybody else had tried to--” “The difference is that McGaw really cared,” broke in Haydock; “there was feeling behind it. It isn’t given to many of us to have real, sure-enough feelings around here in college. Nothing ever seems to happen that makes enough difference one way or the other. McGaw’s one of the kind that has them. That’s how he got everyone to vote for Carver the minute he put him up. He just felt all over that Carver was the right man for the place, and somehow everybody believed him. He slaughtered poor Searsy by the same method. You see he’s the sort of fellow who is destined to be listened to by all kinds of people. The masses like guts, while the upper classes prefer expression. McGaw has the intensity of a fanatic and the manners of a gentleman; his armament is formidable. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised to hear some day that he’d started an entirely new and plausible religion, or written a book that really proved something, or reorganised the Supreme Court on a less flippant basis. The creature actually has beliefs; he’s rather astonishing. I can’t blame him for giving it to Wolcott in the neck, when he had such a good chance; but I’m darned sorry he was inspired to do it.” “I suppose you’ll tell Sears all about it,” said Ellis. “No, I sha’n’t,” answered Haydock, after a moment. “You see, you never can tell how he is going to take things--so what’s the use? The Signet’s nothing to him, and he might be ever so much amused that McGaw could keep him out of it. But then, again, it’s quite likely that he’d carry on and swear like a trooper, and never do anything for McGaw again. I know him better than you do. If I ever do tell him, it’ll be some day just after he’s won a bet, or beaten me at golf, or taken a prize at the horse show; not when he’s cooped up in his room with sore throat, the way he is now, railing at the weather and Cambridge and the college, and everybody who makes a sound in the hall near his door. I’m devoted to Searsy, but I don’t think I have many illusions about him.” “Oh, I wish we could tell McGaw about him! It might make McGaw feel badly just at first; but I’d be so much more comfortable. Couldn’t we--just to be just?” “Certainly not,” yawned Haydock. “One must have the courage to be unjust.” And that, no doubt, would have been the end of the McGaw-Wolcott episode, if tailors didn’t exert such extraordinary influence over human affairs.