"Change around then, Mr. Drayne, and consider yourself, like every
other student of this school, as an insider wherever the Gridley
interests are involved."

Drayne moved away, a half-sneer on his face.

"I don't like that young man," muttered Mr. Morton confidentially
to the young captain of the team.

"I have no violent personal admiration for him," Prescott answered.

Then the bell sounded, calling all the boys and girls back to
their studies.

At just about the hour of noon, a young caller strode into the
yard, paused an instant, studying the different entrances of the
High School building, then kept straight on and entered.

"A visitor for Mr. Prescott, in the reception, room," announced
the teacher in charge of the assembly room.

Bowing his thanks, Dick passed out of the room, crossed the hall,
entered a small room, and turned to greet his caller.

A fine-looking, broad-shouldered, bronzed young man of nineteen
rose and came forward, holding out his hand.

"Do you remember me, Mr. Prescott?" asked the caller heartily.

"I've played football against you, somewhere," replied Dick, studying