Fitzgerald Fletcher did not vote for him. Indeed, he expressed it as
his opinion that it was a shame to elect a "printer's devil"
Secretary of the Society.
"Why is it?" said Oscar. "Printing is a department of literature,
and the Clionian is a literary society, isn't it?"
"Of course it is a literary society, but a printer's devil is not
literary."
"He's as literary as a tin-pedler," said Tom Carver, maliciously.
Fletcher turned red, but managed to say, "And what does that prove?"
"We don't object to you because you are connected with the tin
business."
"Do you mean to insult me?" demanded Fletcher, angrily. "What have I
to do with the tin business?"
"Oh, I beg pardon, it's your cousin that's in it."
"I deny the relationship," said Fletcher, "and I will thank you not
to refer again to that vulgar pedler."
"Really, Fitz, you speak rather roughly, considering he's your
cousin. But as to Harry Walton, he's a fine fellow, and he has an
excellent handwriting, and I was very glad to vote for him."
Fitzgerald walked away, not a little disgusted, as well at the
allusion to the tin-pedler, as at the success of Harry Walton in
obtaining an office to which he had himself secretly aspired. He had
fancied that it would sound well to put "Secretary of the Clionian
Society" after his name, and would give him increased consequence at
home.
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