Amid such cries of virtuous indignation, Fisher minor was hauled in, and his obstructor, by the same _coup de main_, excluded. Fisher minor might have had his head turned by this triumphal entry, had he not recognised in the ejected Modern boy the gentleman to whom he had lent his half-crown on the previous evening. Any reminder of yesterday's misfortunes was depressing to him, and his joy at finding himself on the right side of the door now was decidedly damped by the knowledge that his half-crown was on the wrong. However, there was no time for explanations, as the shouting had ceased, and an evidently important event was about to take place. This was the appointment of treasurer, for whom each of the rival sides had a candidate; that of the Classics being Fisher major, and that of the Moderns Brinkman of Forder's house, a particular enemy of the other side, and reputed to be rich and no gentlemen. Both candidates were briefly proposed and seconded by boys of their own side, and both having declared their intention of going to the vote, a show of hands was demanded. The excitement of our young friends at the end of the Hall while this tedious operation was in progress may well be imagined. The captain had sternly ordained silence during the voting; so that all they could do was to hold up their hands to the very top of their reach, and keep a wild look-out that they were being counted, and that none of the enemy was in any way, moral or physical, circumventing them. As for Fisher minor, he simply trembled with excitement as he cast his eyes round and calculated his brother's chances. He could not comprehend how any one could dare not to vote for Fisher major; and absorbed in that wonder he continued to hold up his hand long after the two tellers had agreed their figure, and the captain had ordered "hands down." "Fisher major, one hundred and twenty-seven votes; now, hands up for Brinkman." "Whew!" said D'Arcy, fanning himself with his handkerchief; "it'll be a close shave. I say, we'd better lean up hard against the door. It'll keep out the draughts." "They've got it, I'm afraid," said Ashby, looking round at the forest of hands; "we hadn't as many as that." "I say, that cad Brinkman is voting for himself," said some one. "What a shame! My brother didn't. He's too honourable," said Fisher minor. "Hullo! `How now'--you there?" cried Wally. Whereupon, amid great laughter, Fisher minor retired modestly behind the rest. The counting seemed interminable, and every moment, to the guilty ears of Ashby, there seemed to be a sound of footsteps without. At last, however, the cry, "hands down," came once more, and you might have heard a pin drop. "Fisher major, one hundred and twenty-seven votes; Brinkman, one hundred and twenty-two. Fisher is elected." Amid the terrific Classic cheers which greeted this announcement, D'Arcy and Ashby exchanged glances.