he morning of the
Student-Body election.

With consummate tact, Jimmy had come to an understanding with Boggs as
to the propriety of his leaving the campus during the election.

"You see, you stand a splendid show of getting it," he explained, "and
the appropriate thing for you is to keep out of sight. When Pellams
nominated you he made a point out of the fact that the office was
seeking you; that has been a leading feature of the campaign, and it has
won you lots of votes. You must not spoil the impression you have made
for yourself and which we have emphasized all along. See?"

Boggs saw, or thought he did, and went to town, ostensibly to carry out
a commission for Pellams, but not before he had rallied some of his
constituents and given them final instructions. It was wonderful to see
what a variety of tastes and interests were represented. An older
politician would have scented danger from the fact that so many of them
had never come out into the arena before; but Jimmy only looked with
smiling curiosity on the Ethics major or the Education "shark," dug up
somewhere from their abstruse speculations.

It was on their way to the station that Jimmy touched on the remaining
issue of the campaign which he was managing.

"You remember my speaking about a feed the other day? I ought to have
spoken more fully, but I've been busy with other details."

"Oh,"--began Boggs.

"You know the custom," cut in the conspirator; "it will be expected of
you if you get the office; it ought to come off to-night to be done
properly."

"That will all be attended to," said Boggs calmly.

"You've seen about it?"

"It's all fixed."

"There'll be a lot of them; they will meet you at the train and you'll
have to do it in shape. I can lend you a little."

"Thanks, old man," said the victim, squeezing Mason's arm, "but just you
leave that to me. It's all arranged to do the square thing by the people
who have stood in with me. So long. Look out for me, won't you? I'll be
down on the Flyer."

When Jimmy got back to the Quadrangle there was a shifting mass about
the polls. Encina politicians were there, Palo Alto politicians,
serious-looking fellows from the Camp, and spruce ones from the Row.
Castleton's followers stood in groups, looking smug and confident, while
sour-faced Higgins people were revengefully putting in all their work
for Boggs.

Every election has its Mark Hanna; this time it was Jennie Brown, whom
Pellams knew as