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 home. I haven't thought much about it, but I guess you're right. I—Well, so long."

Praska shook his head. Even "Me, too, Johnny," made haste to get away from him. Laughing ruefully, he shifted his suit case to the other hand and went his way down the long station platform.

Three mornings later Room 13 assembled to report for a new school day. A contagious restlessness communicated itself along the rows of desks. The long-drawn-out argument over candidates—an argument that solved nothing and got no place—had begun to produce an impatient and nervous uncertainty. Mr. Banning had watched these symptoms develop not without inward anxiety. He knew the danger. At any moment there might be a reaction. Listlessness might take the place of feverish animation, and instead of being interested in candidates the students might become indifferent and languid. He determined to turn their minds into other channels.

"What I have to say," he said, "must be said hurriedly. The first period bell will ring in a moment. To-morrow we are to hold an election of far-reaching importance to this room. Thus far not a word has been said about the machinery by which this election should be carried out."