"We have thirty minutes before the first afternoon period," he said. "It is your desire to have the vote counted now or after classes?"
"Now," came a chorus from the seats.
Praska, as chairman of the tellers, picked up the box; flanked by his two committee members, he walked from the room. The door closed after him. There was a moment of dead silence.
"They ought to be back in about ten minutes," said a voice.
But ten minutes passed, and there was no sign of the committee. Perry, secure in the knowledge of the thunderclap that was soon to come, first smiled and then began to chuckle. A vote for "Me, too, Johnny!" And who would be more surprised than Johnny Baffin himself? He pictured the blank amazement of the others, and began to chuckle again—and then the chuckle stopped. The door had opened, and the tellers were coming in with the result.
One look at their faces, and Perry sat bolt upright in his seat. Two of the tellers were plainly dazed. One of them, catching the eye of a friend, threw up his hand in a tragic gesture of despair. Praska, with the vote tabulation in one hand and the hat box under the other arm, alone of the three seemed placid and serene. Watching him, Perry felt a sudden shaft of icy apprehension.
