"Mr. Banning," said Praska, "the committee asks you to announce the result."
Mr. Banning took the tabulation. The room was still. The teacher of civics looked at it, stared, looked again and held the paper a bit closer to his eyes. Then his gaze came up to survey the class. Twice he coughed as though to clear his throat.
"For president of Room 13," he said, "John Baffin received 15 votes, George Praska 13, Frank Hammond 7"
Perry heard no more. All at once the plan dawned on him. Why, Praska had asked a lot of fellows to vote for "Me, too, Johnny." The stillness had now become a profound and breathless silence.
Mr. Banning was reading the vote for the other offices; but now nobody heard him. The tension was broken by a choking sound. A murmur ran through the room like an unexpected wind rustling through startled reeds. It grew, died, and grew again. Mr. Banning finished reading, folded the paper slowly and laid it on his desk. His glance went to Praska. The football guard looked the other way. And then Mr. Banning understood.
The room was beginning to recover. It was a room athrob with consternation, but it had its
