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Besides, all we have to do, anyway, is to ascertain how the class feels on the matter." "Don't let it be lost sight of, though," begged Jordan, almost betraying his over anxiety, "that it is a serious matter of class dignity and honor." "We won't, old man," promised Durville, as the visitors rose.
Prescott, who was not cadet officer of the day, and who therefore must have deliberately shadowed Mr. Jordan in order to catch him." "Prescott did not shadow Mr. Jordan, or do anything of a sneaky nature," shouted Anstey. "He refused to explain to our class committee how he happened to be on band at just the time to catch Jordan," shouted Durville.
Chairman," called Douglass. "Mr. Douglass has the floor." Douglass was already on his feet, of course. He plunged into an accurate narrative of what had happened, and what he had overheard, on Saturday night. He told it all without embellishment or flourish, and wound up by calling attention to Jordan's plain enough desertion from the corps. Durville then obtained the floor.
"As far as I am concerned," replied the director, "I have no religious belief. But I consider that the Church and the Stage are two great social powers, and that it is beneficial that they should be friends and allies. For my own part, I never lose an opportunity of sealing the alliance. This coming Lent, I shall have Durville read one of Bourdaloue's sermons. I receive a State subsidy.
As Darrin sent in the third ball Beckwith made a desperate sweep for it. It was not to be his, however. "Three strikes! Striker out!" That broad grin had come back to Dan Dalzell's face, as he held up the neatly mitted ball for an instant, then hurled it lazily back to Dave Darrin. Now, Durville came to bat, and the captain of the Army nine was an accurate and hard hitter. "Ball one!"
The stage setting represented an attic in the private asylum where the conspirator was confined in 1812. Durville, who filled the part of General Malet, had just made his entrance. He was rehearsing in costume: a long blue frock-coat, with a collar reaching above his ears, and riding-breeches of chamois leather.
In fact, the Army pitcher choked and shook so that Durville called to him in a quiet, anxious voice from shortstop's beat: "Anything wrong, ramrod?" None of the spectators heard this, but most of them saw Dick's short, vigorous shake of the head as he palmed the ball.
"I reckon Spanish is where he falls," chuckled Durville, when Jordan spoke to him about it. "It's easy to make mistakes enough on Spanish verbs and declensions to throw a fellow down and out. That'll be Prescott's line." "Of course," nodded Jordan. Yet Dick's enemy was very far from feeling hopeful that such would be the case.
The class meeting had not been in session many minutes when Dick's accusers had made it rather plain that Mr. Prescott, following his previous course with Jordan, had revenged himself also on Durville, who had taken an active part in securing the imposition of the silence. Anstey took the floor in a fiery defence.
So we'll try to bring the majority of the class around to the idea of the week's 'silence." "Now, lest it appear as though I were actuated by personal motives," continued Jordan, "I'll have to stand back and let you fellows do the talking with the other men of the class." "That's all right," nodded Durville. "We wholly understand the delicacy of your position, and we can attend to it all right.
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