and enterprising young fellow, anyway---a very likable boy. _You_
like him, don't you, Cantwell?"

"Ye-e-es," admitted the principal, though he added grimly under
his breath:

"I like him so well that I could eat him, right now, if I had
a little Worcestershire sauce to make him more palatable."

"The Board will please come to order," summoned Chairman Stone,
rapping the table with his gavel. "Mr. Reporter, have you good
light over at your table."

"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Chairman," Dick replied.

"Er---aren't you going to stay, Cantwell?" demanded Gadsby, as
the principal turned to leave the room.

"No; the fact is---I---well, I want to consider my statement a
little more before I offer it to the Board. Good evening!"

Mr. Cantwell got out of the room while some of the members were
still scraping their chairs into place.

Dick Prescott had not openly looked in the principal's direction.
Yet the amateur reporter had taken it all in. He was grinning
inside now. He had taken upon himself the work of reporting these
meetings that he might be in a position to block any unfair move
on the part of the principal.