It was too good a chance to be lost, and for three minutes by the clock the Classics stood on their feet and cheered their champion, glaring defiantly as they did so at the Moderns, who having held up their hands and cheered a little, relapsed into silence and left the noise in the hands of the other side.
Then followed the election of vice-captain, which of course had to go to Clapperton.

This time the Moderns had their demonstration amid the silence of the Classics, who thought they had never in their lives seen fellows make such asses of themselves.
It was twenty minutes past the hour, and D'Arcy and Ashby were both getting uncomfortable and impatient.

What did these Modern idiots want to waste the time of everybody by standing there and bellowing! It was scandalous.
"Shut up--go on to the next vote," they cried, but in vain.

The Moderns were going to have their full share, if not a little more, of the row, and to stop them before their time was hopeless.
"Disgusting exhibition, isn't it ?" said D'Arcy; "never mind.

Hullo, I say, there's some one at the door.