Hart stood on a chair. "Gentlemen!" he began.
The effect was quite wonderful. He hushed the gathering as if they had been children (which some of them really were), and to his surprise Hart found himself talking in a low voice, but with intense determination in every gesture of his heavy hand. Order began to reign, and when three or four intruding sophomores, who had been the cause of the uproar, had been unceremoniously bundled out of the room, the chairman announced that nominations were in order for President. Three or four jumped to their feet at once.
"I nominate that man," said a little shrill-voiced boy who managed to get the word in first. He pointed his finger at Hart. "I don't know the gentleman's name," he said, "but it seems to me he'll do."
There was a stamping of feet and an incoherent cheer.
And thus it happened that Newton Wilberforce Hart, of Oakland, Nebraska, had to carry upon his shoulders what he considered a tremendous responsibility, for he took it as a most serious matter.
