The mid-years lasted for a week; at the end of that time the results were made known. Dick did fully as well as he had expected. Out of a total of seven subjects, he had one A, three B's, two C's, and one D. Harry Allen topped the list with five A's and two B's; Brewster did a trifle better than Dick; Putnam and Lindsay not quite so well. But the surprise of the whole affair was Ellis' good showing. It was nothing brilliant, compared with the records of the really fine scholars in the class, but he did far better than any one had supposed he would do, and in those subjects where memory played an important part, his marks were fully equal to the average. Thus all doubts of his being eligible for the spring games were removed, and Brewster, as captain of the track team, heaved a sigh of relief that this anxiety was off his mind.
Dick found himself unable to share in Brewster's pleasure. The thought of that strip of paper, and those cautious fingers pulling it gently downward, rankled in his mind. He wondered what a fellow ought to do in such a case. He ought not to tell tales, of course; that wasn't right; and yet--it was such a downright, dirty trick on Ellis' part--such a sailing under false colors--
And then, one morning, he found his perplexities increased. In the excitement of the mid-years, he had forgotten another matter of importance, and now, on the bulletin in the hall, appeared the notice that in a fortnight the election for class president would be held. Only two names were put in nomination--those of Dave Ellis and of Harry Allen--and suddenly Dick felt his doubts increase. Ought he to keep silence, after all? It was a mean thing to tell on a fellow--he had always known that--but on the other hand, where could you draw the line. If he saw a man commit a murder, he would certainly tell the authorities. There was a duty in both directions, it seemed. And so he thought and thought, until finally, on one rainy afternoon, he gathered his four most intimate friends--Allen, Putnam, Brewster and Lindsay--together in his room, and proceeded to unburden his mind.
"Look here, you chaps," he began, "I want your advice. This is my first year in the school, and the last thing I want to do is to butt in, or to make a nuisance of myself. But I'm in a mix-up about this business of class president, and I want to put the thing up to you fellows, and see what you think of it. Of course, I'm with Harry, as you all know, just as the rest of you are, but we're not the school--I'm afraid, this time, we're not even a majority of the school--and I suppose the chances are all in favor of Dave's getting it."
