sed but it vibrated through that room, vibrated through those three
hundred intensely excited young men.

The chairman--Waller, a Zeta Rho, of the Sigma Alpha combination--knew
that Pierson was scowling a command to him to override the rules and
adjourn the meeting; but he could not take his eyes from Scarborough's,
dared not disobey Scarborough's imperious look. "A count of the ayes
and noes is called for," he said. "The secretary will call the roll."

Pierson's motion was lost--one hundred and thirty-two to one hundred
and seventy-nine. For the first time in his life he was beaten; and it
was an overwhelming, a public defeat that made his leadership
ridiculous. His vanity was cut savagely; it was impossible for him to
control himself to stay and witness the inevitable rout. He lounged
down the wide aisle, his face masked in a supercilious smile, his
glance contemptuously upon the jubilant barbs. They were thick about
the doors, and as he passed among them he said, addressing no one in
particular: "A revolt of the Helots." A barb raised a threatening
fist; Pierson sneered, and the fist unclenched and dropped before his
fearless eyes.

An hour later Scarborough, his ticket elected and the society
adjourned, reached Mrs. Trent's porch. In its darkness he saw the
glowing end of a cigarette. "That you, Pierson?" he asked in the tone
of one who knows what the answer will be.

"Sit down for a few minutes," came the reply, in a strained voice.

He could not see even the outline of Pierson's face, but with those
acute sensibilities which made life alternately a keen pleasure and a
pain to him, he felt that his friend was struggling for self-control.
He waited in silence.

At last Pierson began: "I owe you an apology. I've been thinking all
sorts of things about you. I know they're unjust and--mean, which is
worse. But, damn it, Scarborough, I HATE being beaten. And it doesn't
make defeat any the easier because YOU did it."

He paused; but Scarborough did not speak.

"I'm going to be frank," Pierson went on with an effort. "I know you
had a perfect right to do as you pleased, but--hang it all, old
man--you might have warned me."

"But I didn't do as I pleased," said Scarborough. "And as for telling
you--" He paused before he interrupted himself with: "But first I want
to say that I don't like to give an account of myself to my friends.
What does friendship mean if it forbids freedom? I didn't approve