of the school paper and president of the literary society and head scholar of his class, he was in touch with the quiet, studious boys; as a cheerful, humorous, and occasionally mischief-making youth, he was always welcome in a gathering of the irresponsible and idle; as an enthusiastic and emulous admirer of the athletes, he was liked by them.
So the reports which his friends brought him grew steadily more favorable; and as the time for the election drew near Harry grew insensibly more covetous of the honor.
The conscientious reluctance which he had had when his friends had first proposed to make him a candidate had quite vanished. He had put down the uncomfortable feeling that his election would be absurd and grotesque, and an injustice to some one else. He set his imagination on that day in June when, after the last race had been run and the prizes had been brought out in front of the spectators' stand, he would step forward with a great red badge on his breast and introduce some famous man—a senator or a cab-
