“Yes?” queried Dick.  “What about it?”

“Well, you’ve been president of your class for two years.”

“Yes; thanks to the other fellows of the class.”

“Now, Prescott, do you intend to go right along keeping the presidency of the class?”

“Why, yes; if the fellows don’t show me that they want a change.”

“Maybe they do,” murmured Haynes.

Dick wheeled and regarded the turnback rather sharply.

“You must mean something by that, Haynes.  What do you mean?”

“Are you willing to resign, if the class wants someone else?”

“Of course,” replied Prescott, with a snap.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” murmured Haynes.

“See here, Haynes, have you been sent here by any faction in the second class?”

“No,” admitted the turnback promptly.

“Have you heard any considerable expression of opinion on the subject of a new class president being desired.”

“No,” admitted Haynes, coloring somewhat under the close scrutiny of his comrade in the class and the corps.

“You’re speaking for yourself only?”

“That’s it,” assented the turnback.

“Why don’t you want me for class president?”

Cadet Haynes looked a trifle disconcerted, but it was always Dick’s way to go openly and directly to the point in any matter.

“Why, perhaps I don’t know just how to put it,” replied Haynes.  “But see here, Prescott, wouldn’t it be better for any class—–­say the second class, for instance—–­to have a man as president who has been longer at the Military Academy than the other members of the class?”

“Do you mean,” pursued Dick relentlessly, “that you want to be elected president of the present second class, Haynes?”

“Why, I think it would be a nice little courtesy from the class,” admitted the turnback.  “You see, Prescott, you’ve held the honor now for two years.”

Dick smiled, looking straight into the eyes of his visitor, but he made no other answer.

“Now, what do you think about it, Prescott?” insisted the turnback.

“I don’t like to tell you, Haynes.”

“But I wish you would.”

“You’d be offended.”

“No; I would—–­See here not trying to be offensive with me, are you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.  Go ahead and tell me what you think.”

“I was a good deal astonished,” went on Prescott, “when back in plebe days, the other fellows chose me for their president.  I wasn’t expecting it, and I didn’t know what to make of it.  But the fellows of the class gave me that great honor.  I stand ready to step down from the honor at any time when the class feels that it would like another president.”

“I’d like the honor, Prescott.  But, of course, I didn’t know that you held to it so earnestly.  If you don’t want to give it up, of course I’ll go slow in asking you to do so.  But I thought that both you and the class would appreciate having as president a man who has been longer at the Military Academy than any of the others.”