Back in Clarke, Dan and Gerald spread out their books on opposite sides of the table for an hour or more of study. Gerald was keeping his promise to Mr. McIntyre, and was really doing the best he was capable of at algebra. But it did seem as though Fate was against him, for, in order to do full justice to mathematics, he had to give less time to his other studies, with the result that his French had been suffering of late, and Mr. Von Groll had once or twice showed impatience. It seemed desperately hard to please everyone, thought Gerald.

Across the table Dan browsed through his morrow’s Latin, and then settled down to geometry. Now and then Gerald interrupted to ask assistance, and once Dan reached over for the younger boy’s book and puzzled out a line in C?sar’s Gallic War for him. Nine o’clock struck, and Gerald looked up from his book with a sigh, glanced hopefully at Dan, found that youth still absorbed, and, with another sigh, went back to[177] work. But ten minutes later Gerald pushed his book resolutely away, yawned, stretched, and spoke.

“I wish this universal disarmament they talk about nowadays had been a fact about 50 B. C.,” he said regretfully.

“Yes? Why?” asked Dan, looking up.

“There wouldn’t have been any Gallic War, and I wouldn’t have to read about it.”

“Well,” said Dan, “you’d better not let Collins hear you put the date of the Gallic War as 50.”

“Oh, well, it was around there somewhere,” answered Gerald indifferently. “What’s the good of being particular about the date of a thing that took place thousands of years ago? I never could remember dates, anyway. I guess I’m only sure about three.”

“And what are those?” asked Dan, closing his books and piling them in place.

“My birthday, the day they fired on Fort Sumter, and the date of the Third and Fourth Class baseball game.”

Dan laughed. “You want to be careful and not overtax that brain of yours, Gerald,” he said. Then: “That reminds me,” he said more seriously. “There’s going to be a good debate Saturday evening. Want to go along?”

[178]

“Yes, thanks, I’d like to very much.”

“Cambridge and Oxford take fellows from the Fourth Class in a week or two,” continued Dan. “Have you made up your mind which you want to join?”

“Cambridge,” answered Gerald promptly. “They both seem very nice, but you and Alf are both in Cambridge, and—and I think I’d rather go there—that is, if I can. Do you think I can?”

“That’s what I want to talk about,” replied Dan, pushing back his chair and clasping his hands behind his head. “You see, the Society holds a meeting—it’s a week from Friday—and takes up the names of the fellows in order. If a majority of the fellows there are in favor of the chap his name goes to the Admission Committee. That committee is made up of the President and two members from each of the three upper classes, that is, seven members in all. They pass finally on the candidates for admission, and a candidate has to get the whole seven votes to receive an invitation. Understand?”

“Yes,” answered Gerald anxiously.

“Well, we can get you past the meeting all right, Gerald, and we’re pretty certain of five of the seven on the Committee, but the other two, the Third Class members, are rather more difficult. Neither Alf nor I know them very well.[179] One is a chap named Hiltz and the other is this fellow Thompson.”

“I guess that queers me, then,” said Gerald mournfully.

“You think Thompson would vote against you?”

Gerald nodded. “I’m pretty sure he would.”

“But he said awhile ago, didn’t he, that you and he were quits?”

“Ye-es, but I don’t think he meant it. He doesn’t like me, I know.”

“Well,” said Dan hesitatingly, “Alf suggested—in fact, I think so, too, that you might sort of let him understand that you are ready to be friends. It won’t be necessary to say very much, I guess; you might just speak to him when you see him, and then, if you have the chance, get into conversation with him. It wouldn’t be hard.”

“I’d rather not get into either society than do that,” declared Gerald vehemently. “And—and I don’t believe you’d do it yourself, Dan!”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Dan hesitatingly. “Maybe you’re right. But I felt that I ought to let you know how things stand, so you can do as you like about—making up with Thompson. I guess this fellow Hiltz hasn’t anything against you, and so it’s up to Thompson. He can undoubtedly keep you out of the society if he wants[180] to, Gerald. But maybe he won’t; perhaps we’re crossing our bridge before we come to it.”

Gerald was silent for a moment. Dan could see that he was greatly disapp............