“If I were to resign the presidency,” replied Prescott bluntly, “I don’t believe you’d stand a ghost of a show of getting it.”

Cadet Haynes sprang to his feet, cheeks crimson, his eyes flashing.

“Why not?” he insisted.

“Steady, now,” urged Dick.  “Don’t take offence where none is meant, Haynes.  The class would want its president to be one who has been with the class all along, and who knows all its traditions.  Now, in experience, you’re a first classman, and you’ve all the First-class traditions.  Now, if the class were dissatisfied with me, and wanted a new president, I’m pretty certain the fellows would choose someone who had been in our class from the start.  Now with you a turnback-----”

Haynes’s flush deepened, and he took a step forward, his fists clenching.

“Prescott, do you use that word offensively?”

“No,” replied Dick quietly.  “Do you intend your question or manner to be offensive?”

“Not unless you’re trying to start it,” sniffed the other cadet.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Haynes,” proposed Dick pleasantly.  “I can see your point of view—–­from your side.  I don’t believe it would be the view of the class.  But, if you wish, I’ll call a class meeting and lay the whole proposition before them.”

“You mean that you’ll try out class feeling by resigning and suggesting me for your successor?” asked Haynes eagerly.

“No; I’ll state the substance of our conversation this afternoon, and then you can say any thing you may have to say on the subject.  Then I will put it to the class whether they want me to resign so that you can be elected in my place.”

Haynes turned several shades more red.

“That would make a fool of me!” flashed the turnback.

“It would be a statement of your own proposition, wouldn’t it?” asked Dick, with another smile.

“Stop your laughing at me, you-----”

“Careful!” warned Dick, but he threw a lot of emphasis into the single word.

“Prescott,” choked the turnback, “you’re trying to make my idea and myself ridiculous!”

“Haven’t I stated your proposition fairly?” challenged Prescott.  “You think that, because you are a turnback, you have more right than I to the class presidency.  If that isn’t your attitude, then I shall be glad to apologize.”

“Oh, pshaw, there’s no use in trying to make you see the matter with my eyes,” muttered Haynes in disgust.

“I’m afraid not, Haynes.  If the fellows don’t want me as president I would insist on resigning.  But I am sure the class would rather have almost anyone than a turnback.  I hope, however, there is no hard feeling?”

Prescott held out his right hand frankly.

“I hope there will be, as you say, no hard feeling,” mumbled Haynes, accepting the proffered hand weakly.

Then the turnback left the room.  Down the corridor, however, he strode heavily, angrily, muttering to himself: