Dan ran across Alf in the corridor of Oxford soon after the lists were posted. Alf made a grimace of disgust as he leaned against the base of the plaster Mercury.

“Well, we lose,” he said.

Dan nodded. “Gerald will be disappointed.”

“Still, he’s made Oxford.”

“He says he won’t take it, and I guess he means it. He’s a stubborn little chump. I suppose Thompson queered the game.”

“I guess so. I’ll have a talk with Colton and Rand; they’ll probably have a fair idea what happened. Does Gerald know yet?”

“Guess not. I haven’t seen him. I think he’s in the room. Come on over with me: you’re through, aren’t you?”

“Want me to break the news to the bereaved?” asked Alf, with a grin. “All right, I’ll go along. We ought to induce him to take Oxford, although I suppose we might get him in next Fall.”

“I don’t see how. If Thompson voted against[186] him to-day he will probably vote against him then.”

“Gee, Dan, you’ll never make a politician,” said Alf. “It isn’t absolutely necessary, is it, that Thompson should be re-elected to the Admission Committee next year?”

“Oh, I see! Still, I don’t see how we could prevent it.”

“I don’t say for certain that we could, but you’re in his class, and I guess if you made up your mind to keep him out, you could do it. All you’d have to do would be to find a popular chap willing to take the place, and run him for all you are worth. Why not make a bid for it yourself? You could beat Thompson easily enough. He’s not especially popular, I guess. Besides, no one cares a whole lot about getting on the committee, anyhow. The honor doesn’t amount to much. Yes, I guess we could cook Thompson’s goose all right if we set out to. In fact, I rather like the idea. I don’t like to be beaten, Dan, and—say, hanged if we don’t get Gerald into Cambridge in spite of Mr. Thompson! What do you say? Will you go in for it?”

“Why, yes, I guess so. I suppose it’s fair enough?”

“Of course it is! Anything’s fair in politics, you know.”

[187]

“No, but really, Alf! Would it be all right to scheme around that way?”

“Absolutely!” declared Alf with emphasis. “We want Gerald in Cambridge. There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be there. So we just go ahead and get him there. Come on and let’s find him. Of course, if he’s changed his mind and decides to take Oxford, all right. If he hasn’t, and he asks my advice, I’ll tell him to wait until Fall, and we’ll get him into Cambridge. And you back me up.”

They found Gerald in his room. A glance at his face showed Dan and Alf that he had learned the result of the Admission Committee’s labors, in spite of the fact that he was striving to look unconcerned.

“Say, Gerald, I’m awfully sorry about Cambridge,” said Alf heartily. “It’s a shame. And I’m afraid you’ll hate us for letting you think you were going to make it.”

“Of course I won’t,” replied Gerald soberly. “You fellows did all you could, and I’m much obliged. It isn’t your fault. It was Thompson that did it.” Gerald’s face darkened. “And I’m going to—” He stopped.

“Going to what?” asked Dan suspiciously. Gerald turned a rebellious countenance toward him.

[188]

“I’m going to tell him what I think of him! That’s what!”

“Come now, look here, Gerald,” exclaimed Dan. “You can’t do that, you know! You don’t know for certain that Thompson blackballed you. And even if you did know, you wouldn’t have any right to call him to account for it. Any member of that committee has a right to vote as he likes, and—”

“I’m going to punch his head, just the same,” said Gerald doggedly.

“No, Dan’s right,” said Alf soothingly. “You can’t do that, Gerald. At any rate, you can’t fight him on that pretense. Of course, if you happened to meet him and didn’t like the way he wore his hair, or the color of his eyes, and said so—”

“Cut it out, Alf,” said Dan. “There’s no reason for scrapping and you know it. Besides, Gerald can go into Oxford—”

“I’ve told you half a dozen times,” interrupted Gerald warmly, “that I don’t want Oxford.”

“Sure?” asked Alf eagerly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” answered Gerald.

“All right. You stick to that, my boy, and we’ll have you in Cambridge next Fall as sure as shooting.”

Gerald viewed him doubtfully.

[189]

“Do you mean it, Alf?” he asked. “You’re not just saying that to—to make me feel better?”

“Not a bit of it,” replied Alf gayly. “Dan and I have got the whole thing planned. We thought that if you wanted to go in for Oxford we wouldn’t say anything about it; just let you go. But if you don’t, why, don’t even think of it. The next election is in November, and we’ll get you through with flying colors. You’ll only be in the Third then, and will have three years before you. You really aren’t missing much, you see; lots of fellows don’t make a society until they’re in the Third.”

“That’s mighty nice of you,” said Gerald gratefully. “I don’t care so much now. Only—about Oxford; do you think Tom will mind if I don’t take it?”

“Not a bit,” said Dan.

“That’s right,” Alf agreed. “He knew you preferred Cambridge, and only got you through there in case you missed it with us, and wanted consolation. Tom understands perfectly.”

“Then I’ll write and decline it,” said Gerald cheerfully. “What shall I say?”

“Oh, most anything,” said Alf. “Just tell them to be blowed; tell ’em you’re sort of particular about whom you associate with, and that—”

“Shut up,” laughed Dan. “Just say that ‘Mr.[190] Pennimore declines with thanks the kind invitation of Oxford Society.’ That’s all that’s necessary, isn’t it, Alf?”

“Ye-es, I suppose so. But you might add in a postscript that you hope they’ll choke.”

Thus Gerald’s disappointment was mitigated by the promise held out by Alf, and the note declining the invitation to Oxford was despatched without regrets. Even had Gerald been inclined to feel sore over his failure he would not have had much time to indulge his feelings. The inter-class baseball games were approaching, and practice demanded much of his time. Gerald was winning friends now, for his fellow members of the Fourth Class nine had to admire his playing, if nothing else. But as they got to know him better they found other things to like. They soon discovered that his reserve, which looked so much like arrogance, was only a cloak to hide a sort of shyness that was the result of his earlier experiences at Yardley. They found that he wasn’t stuck-up—a heinous sin at Yardley—and that he never referred to wealth or influence. He was “Pennimore” now; in some cases “Gerald”; the nicknames, “Miss Nancy,” or “Moneybags,” seemed to have fallen into disuse.

Gerald thrived and grew happier every day. He stopped thinking about Thompson, and paid[191] no heed to that youth when he met him. And gradually, but perceptibly, he was undergoing a physical transformation. His work in the gymnasium under the careful supervision of Mr. Bendix, and now his daily exercise on ball-field and tennis court had not failed of effect. He had taken on flesh, his color was good, his muscles had hardened and developed, and his shoulders and chest had broadened and deepened. And with his physical betterment came an increased capacity for study. He found that after an hour’s baseball practice, followed by a shower and a brisk rubdown, he was ready to tackle cheerfully the hardest task in algebra that Mr. Wentworth could invent. I don’t mean that his marks were all A’s and B’s. On the contrary, he exhibited a seeming preference for C’s, with an occasional B by way of variety. But he was doing good work, for all of that, and Kilts was pretty well satisfied. His other studies, English, French, and Latin, were going better, too, and he was no longer worrying about his chances of passing the finals in June. He felt pretty sure of B’s in English and Latin, and believed he could get C’s in the other two studies.

The boxing lessons, which had been transferred from Saturday afternoons to Saturday mornings, when Alf’s baseball work had claimed the former[192] hours, had now ceased altogether. Alf declared that Gerald had already learned almost all he could teach him, and that further development and improvement depended on himself.

“Go up against the punching-bag, Gerald, two or three times a week, and keep your muscles limbered up. Next Fall we’ll go at it again. It’s bully exercise and it’s bully fun; and it’s a mighty good thing to know something about boxing. Maybe you’ll never need the knowledge, and maybe you will. There’s no harm in having it, anyway.”

The discontinuance of the boxing lessons left Gerald his Saturday mornings for other pursuits, and he chose to devote them to tennis. He had played tennis a good deal ever since he had been large enough to swing a racket. Sometimes his father had been his opponent, sometimes the tutor. For his age Gerald was a good player, and was extremely fond of the game. There were six courts at Yardley, and it was almost always possible to secure one at some time during the morning. There was a rule, and a necessary one it was in vi............