For once in his life he was a hero! How he wished his young sisters could have seen him then! "Never mind," shouted Percy across the room, "he's bound to vote the wrong side, or forget to vote at all." "Order! Those who vote for Brinkman, hold up your hands." It was far too serious to humbug now. Even D'Arcy was grave as he surveyed the force of the enemy. Two tellers had been appointed from either side, so that the votes were counted four times, and the total was not allowed till all were agreed on the result. "Brinkman has one hundred and twenty-eight votes." Loud and long were the cheers which greeted this announcement. The knowing ones felt that it practically meant victory for the Moderns, for it was one more vote than Fisher major had won with last time. "Now, hands up for Fisher major." Amid dead silence the Classic hands went up. Anxious eyes were cast in Rollitt's direction. But he, strange to say, was all there, and held up his hand with the rest. Fisher major himself at the last moment kept his own hand down. He had decided that, if Brinkman voted for himself, he would do the same. Brinkman had voted. But, when it came to following his example, the candidate's pride went on strike, and, whether it lost the election or not, he declined to vote, Three of the tellers evidently agreed, but the other had to count again before he made the figure right. Then the written paper was handed up to Yorke, "Brinkman 128, Fisher major, 129-- Fisher is elected." CHAPTER NINE. CARRIED NEM. CON. It must not be supposed that in the midst of the excitement of School politics the intellectual side of the Fellsgarth juniors, life was being quite neglected. On the contrary, they complained that so far from being neglected it was rather overdone. The Classic juniors, for instance, suffered many things at the hands of the cheerful Mr Stratton, who really worked hard to instil into their opening minds some rudiments of those studies from which their side took its name. He took pains to explain not only when a thing was wrong, but why; and, unlike some of his calling, he devoted his chief attention to his most backward boys. This was his great offence in the eyes of D'Arcy and Wally and some of their fraternity, because under the arrangement they came in for the special attention alluded to. "That kid," said Wally, one day, _sotto voce_, as class was proceeding, "has no more idea of teaching than my hat. We don't get a chance to _do_ things ourselves, with him always messing about and looking over. It's rude to look over. I mean to mark my exercise _private_ in future." "The thing is," said D'Arcy, "if he'd anything original to say it wouldn't matter so. But he's always talking the same old rot about roots. What's the use of a root, I should like to know, if you can't bury it? Eh, kid?"