"If there's that many, they'll know where to put their cross, won't they," said Nat. "In any case, that's not the sort of campaign I want to run," he added. "I'd prefer to assume the voters can make up their own minds which one of us can be trusted."

"That's an original idea," said Tom.

"Well, at least the principal is making itclear that he doesn't want Elliot to be president," said Nat.

"I don't think we should tell anyone that," said Tom. "It may well swing a few more votes to Elliot."

"Damn, how did he manage to pull that off?"

growled Nat.

"Bribery and corruption would be my bet," said Jimmy. "Elliot has always been a useful player, but never good enough to make the school team."

"Do you think they'll risk putting him in the game?"

"Why not? St. George's often fields a weak side, so they could leave him out there for a few minutes once they're confident it won't affect the result. Then Elliot will spend the rest of the game running up and down the sidelines, waving at the voters, while all we can do is stare down at him from the bleachers."

"Then let's make sure all our workers are in position outside the stadium a few minutes before the game ends, and don't let anyone see our new hand-held placards until Saturday afternoon. That way Elliot won't have time to come up with his own."

"You're learning fast," said Tom.

"When Elliot's your opponent, you're not left with a lot of choice."

When Nat arrived at the game, his placards were to be seen everywhere, and all that the Elliot supporters could do was cry foul play. Nat and Tom couldn't hide their smiles as they took their places in the bleachers. The smiles broadened when St. George's scored early in the first quarter.

Nat didn't want Tail to lose, but no coach was going to risk putting Elliot on the field while St. George's remained in the lead. And that didn't change until the final quarter.

Nat shook hands with everyone as they left the stadium, but he knew that Taft's last-minute victory over St. George's hadn't helped his cause, even if Elliot had only been able to run up and down the sideline until the lastperson had left the bleachers.

"Just be thankful he never got into the game," said Tom.

Over the final weekend, Nat's workers tried to project an air of confidence, even though they realized it was too close to call. Neither candidate stopped smiling, until Monday evening when the school bell struck six.

"Let's go back to my room," said Tom, "and tell stories of the death of kings."

"Sad stories," said Nat.

The team all crowded into Tom's little room and swapped anecdotes of the roles they had played in the campaign, and laughed at jokes that weren't funny, as they waited impatiently to learn the result.

A loud rap on the door interrupted their noisy exuberance. "Come in," called Tom.

They all stood up the moment they saw who it was standing in the doorway.

"Good evening, Mr. Anderson," said Nat.

"Good evening, Cartwright," replied the dean of students formally. "As the returning officer in the election for president of stu- 68 dent government, I have to inform you that due to the closeness of the result, I will be calling for a recount. Assembly has therefore been postponed until eight o'clock."

"Thank you, sir," was all Nat could think of saying.

When eight o'clock had struck every boy was seated in his place. They rose dutifully when the dean of students entered the hall. Nat tried to read any sign of the result from the expression on his face, but even the Japanese would have been proud of Mr.

Anderson's inscrutability.

The dean walked to the center of the stage and invited the assembly to be seated. There was a hush, rarely experienced at a normal gathering.

"I must tell you," began the dean, "that this was the closest result in the school's seventy-five-year history." Nat could feel thepalms of his hands sweating, as he tried to remain calm. "The voting for president of student council was Nat Cartwright, 178, Ralph Elliot, 181."

Half the gathering leaped to their feet and cheered, while the other half remained seated and silent.

Nat rose from his place, walked across to Elliot and offered his outstretched hand.

The new president ignored it.

Nat's mother seemed to be one of the few people who wasn't disappointed that her son hadn't been elected president. She felt it would give him more time to concentrate on his work. And if Susan Cartwright could have seen the hours Nathaniel was putting in, she would have stopped worrying. Even Tom found it difficult to pry Nat away from his books for more than a few minutes, unless it was to go on his daily five-mile run. And even when he broke the school cross-country record, Nat only allowed himself a couple of hours off to celebrate.

Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve-it made no I difference. Nat remained in his room, head buried in his books. His mother only hoped that when he left to spend a long weekend in Simsbury with Tom, he would take a real break. He did.

Nat cut his workload down to two hours in the morning and another two in the afternoon. Tom was grateful that his friend kept him to the same routine, even if he declined the invitation to join him for his daily run. It amused Nat that he could complete the five miles without ever leaving Tom's estate.

"One of your many sweethearts?" asked Nat over breakfast the following morning as his friend tore open a letter.

"I only wish," said Tom. "No, it's from Mr. Thompson asking if I want to be considered for a part in Twelfth Night."

"And do you?" asked Nat."No. It's more your world than mine. I'm a producer by nature, not a performer."

"I would have put my name down for a part if I was confident about my Yale application, but I haven't even completed my independent study."

"I haven't even started mine,"

admitted Tom.

"Which of the five subjects did you select?"

asked Nat.

"Control of the lower Mississippi during the Civil War," replied Tom. "And you?"

"Clarence Darrow and his influence on the trade union movement."

"Yeah, I considered Mr. Darrow, but wasn't sure I could manage five thousand words on the subject. No doubt you've already written ten."

"No, but I've almost finished a first draft, and should have a final copy ready by the time we return in January."

"Yale's deadline isn't until February; you really ought to consider taking a part in the school play. At least read for the audition. After all, it doesn't have to be the lead."

Nat thought about his friend's suggestion as he buttered himself a piece of toast. Tom was right, of course, but Nat felt it would be just another distraction if he was hoping to win a scholarship to Yale. He glanced out of the window across acres of land and wondered what it must be like to have parents who didn't have to worry about tuition payments, pocket money, and whether he could get a holiday job during the summer vacation.

"Do you wish to read for any particular role, Nat?" asked Mr. Thompson as he stared up at the six-foot-two boy with a mop of black hair, whose trousers always seemed to be a couple of inches too short.

"Antonio, possibly Orsino," replied Nat.

"You're a natural Orsino," said Mr.

Thompson, "but I have your friend, Tom Russell,in mind for that part."

"I'm hardly Malvolio," said Nat with a laugh.

"No, Elliot would be my first choice for Malvolio," said Thompson with a wry smile.

Mr. Thompson, like so many others at Tail, wished Nat had become the student government president. "But sadly he's not available, whereas in truth, you are best suited for the role of Sebastian."

Nat wanted to protest, although when he first read the script he had to admit he thought the part would be a challenge.

However, its sheer length would demand hours of learning, not to mention time spent in rehearsals. Mr.

Thompson sensed Nat's reservations. "I think the time has come for a little bribery, Nat."

"Bribery, sir?"

"Yes, my boy. You see the admissions director at Yale is one of my oldest friends.

We studied classics together at Princeton, and he always spends a weekend with me every year. I think I'll make it the weekend of the school play," he paused, "that is, if you feel able to play Sebastian." Nat didn't respond. "Ah, I see bribery is not enough for someone of your high moral standards, so I shall have to stoop to corruption."

"Corruption, sir?" said Nat.

"Yes, Nat, corruption. You will have observed that there are three parts in the play for females-the fair Olivia, your twin Viola, and the feisty Maria, not to mention understudies and maidservants, and don't let's forget that they all fall in love with Sebastian." Nat still didn't respond. "And,"

continued Mr. Thompson, revealing his trump card, "my opposite number at Miss Porter's has suggested that I should take a boy over on Saturday to read the male parts while we decide who should audition for the females." He paused again.

"Ah, I see I have finally caught your attention."

"Do you believe it's possible to spend your whole life loving only one person?" Annie asked.

"If you're lucky enough to find the right person, whynot?" responded Fletcher.

"I suspect that when you go to Yale in the fall you'll be surrounded by so many bright and beautiful women, I'll pale by comparison."

"Not a chance," said Fletcher. He sat down next to her on the sofa and put an arm around her shoulder.

"And in any case, they'll quickly discover that I'm in love with somebody else, and once you're at Vassar, they'll discover why."

"But that won't be for another year," said Annie, "and by then. ."

"Shh. haven't you noticed that every man who meets you is immediately jealous of me?"

"No, I haven't," she replied honestly.

Fletcher turned to look at the girl he'd fallen in love with when she'd had a flat chest and braces on her teeth. But even then he couldn't resist that smile, her black hair, inherited from an Irish grandmother, and steel-blue eyes from the Swedish side of the family. But now, four years later, time had added a slim, graceful figure and legs that made Fletcher grateful for the new fashion of mini skirts.

Annie put a hand on Fletcher's thigh, "Do you realize that half the girls in my class are no longer virgins?" she said.

"So Jimmy tells me," said Fletcher.

"And he should know." Annie paused, "I'm seventeen next month, and you've never once suggested. ."

"I've thought about it many times, of course I have,"

said Fletcher as she moved her body so that his hand touched her breast, "but when it happens, I want it to be right for both of us and for there never to be any regrets."

Annie nestled her head in his shoulder. "For me there wouldn't be any regrets," she said, placing a hand on his leg.

He took her in his arms. "When are you expecting your parents back?"

"Around midnight. They're attending another of those never-ending functions politicians seem to thrive on."Fletcher didn't move as Annie began to unbutton her blouse. When she reached the last button, she slipped it off and let it fall to the floor. "Your turn I think," she said.

Fletcher quickly unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside. Annie stood up and faced him, amused by the sudden power she seemed to have over him. She unzipped her skirt slowly in the way she had seen Julie Christie do in Darling.

Like Miss Christie, she hadn't bothered with a petticoat. "Your turn I think," she said again.

Oh my God, thought Fletcher, I daren't take off my trousers. He slipped off his shoes and socks.

"That's cheating," said Annie, who had removed her shoes even before Fletcher knew what she had in mind. He reluctantly pulled down his trousers, and she burst out laughing. Fletcher blushed as he looked down at his pants.

"It's good to know I can do that to you," said Annie.

"Would it be possible for you to concentrate on the words, Nat?" asked Mr. Thompson, not attempting to disguise his sarcasm. "Take it from "But here the lady comes.

Even dressed in her school uniform, Rebecca stood out from the rest of the girls Mr. Thompson was auditioning. The tall, slim girl with fair hair cascading down her shoulders had an air of self-confidence that captivated Nat, and a smile that made him respond immediately. When she returned his smile, he turned away, embarrassed to have embarrassed her. All he knew about her was her name.

"What's in a name,"

he said.

"Wrong play Nat, try again."

Rebecca Armitage waited as Nat stumbled through his words, "But here the lady comes ..." Rebecca was surprised because when she'd stood at the back of the hall and heard him earlier, he had sounded so totally self-assured. She looked down at her script and read,"Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, now go with me and with this holy man into the chantry by: there, before him, and underneath that consecrated roof, plight me the full assurance of your faith; that my most jealous and too doubtful soul may live at peace.

He shall conceal it while you are willing it shall come to note, what time we will our celebration keep according to my birth. What do you say?"

Nat said nothing.

"Nat, had you thought of joining in?" suggested Mr. Thompson.i "So that Rebecca can at least deliver a few more lines? I admit that the adoring look is most effective, and for some might pass as acting, but this is not a mime we're performing. One or two of the audience might even have come to hear the familiar words of Mr. Shakespeare."

"Yes, sir, sorry sir," said Nat, returning to the script.

"I'll follow this good man, and go with you; and having sworn truth, ever will be true."

"Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, that they may fairly note this act of mine."