Now it happened on a certain Saturday night that Tompkins had a part in the debate at the Laurel Leaf on that favorite subject for debating societies,—the advisability of choosing United States senators by popular vote. The meeting was an open one, and Donald, impelled as much by natural taste as by curiosity to witness his neighbor’s performance, was among the spectators. Duncan, to whom debate smacked too much of the recitation room to be attractive, even with Tommy as a performer, preferred to stay at home.
Tompkins had the opening. His task was to show that the present system was a failure. He was just about to begin, when he noticed that the volume of Bryce’s “American Commonwealth,” from which he intended to quote a clincher to his argument, was not among his books of reference. He walked down to Donald and whispered a few words in his ear, whereat the blue-necktied twin nodded, took up his hat, and disappeared.
“Tommy’s had to send me back for one of his books,” said Donald, a minute or two later, putting his head in at the Peck door. “He’s just going to start off.”
“Does he look rattled?” asked Duncan. “If I knew he was going to slump, I’d go over.”
“I guess there’s no danger of that,” replied Donald, bringing the book nearer the light. “I hope I’ve got the right volume.”
“How many volumes are there?” demanded Duncan, suddenly.
“Bring the other, then, while I change my tie!” commanded Duncan, jumping up and pulling vigorously at his necktie.
“It’s the best thing yet,” chuckled Duncan. “Get a hustle on, there’s no time to lose.”
Donald, with the puzzled expression still on his face, obediently returned to Tompkins’s room and brought the other volume. “I told him I’d get him Number Two,” he said doubtfully. “I can’t take the wrong one.”
“No, but I can,” declared Duncan, giving the last touch to his blue cravat, which was an exact duplicate of his brother’s. “How long has he to spout?”
“You just stay here three, and then come along with the right book, as you agreed to. I’m going over with the wrong one. Where d’you sit?”
“Two rows from the front in the aisle seat,” answered Donald, still bewildered.
Tompkins was greatly relieved to see the door open and the twin with a blue tie walk to the seat in the second row, bearing the familiar volume of Bryce under his arm. The speaker’s argument had been planned to lead up gradually to an effective climax in a final quotation from a great authority. For this quotation Tompkins had been nervously waiting.