A howl of approval thundered forth. The clamor took on new strength. “Burtis! Burtis! We want Burtis!” declared the assembly. Feet stamped wildly, and fellows at the back of the hall stood up in order to shout louder. Gerald turned and searched with his gaze for Kendall, who, sitting in the second row, had slunk down behind the broad back of Pete Girard. “Burtis! Burtis! We want Burtis!” clamored the throng. Finally Jensen and Marion, who were seated on either side of Kendall, strove to drag him to his feet. The audience applauded them. Girard arose and dragged his chair away, revealing Kendall, red of face, striving mightily to escape publicity. Gerald spoke to him, and Kendall got up and bowed awkwardly and sank into his seat again. But the school was not satisfied. “Speech, Burtis! We want a speech!” “Kick us a speech, Burtis!” Kendall, smiling wanly, was seen shaking his head at Gerald, who was bending over him and evidently trying to persuade him to say something. The turmoil continued, gathering in volume rather than diminishing. Gerald had Kendall by his well arm now, and was pulling him out of the chair. Reluctantly Kendall allowed himself to be conducted to the front of the platform. Gerald, smiling, waved his hand and stepped back. The hall quieted quickly, and a most appalling silence succeeded the tumult. Kendall, no longer blushing, but white-cheeked from fright, began to speak. None, however, save those in the front rows could hear him, although the hall was so still that one might have heard a pin drop. Finally, “Louder, please!” called a distant voice. “You’re misjudging the distance!” There was a laugh at that and even Kendall smiled rather tremulously, and when he went on his voice had gained strength.