for you with this crowd."

"Will you keep quiet, for a moment, and let the other fellows
hear, even if you have to take a walk in order to save your own
ears?" demanded Greg, with sarcasm. "This piece is about Dick
Prescott, and he doesn't sign patent medicine test-----"

"Dick Prescott?" demanded Darrin. "Whoop! Let's have it!"

"It isn't a roast, is it?" demanded Danny Grin solemnly.

"No; it isn't," Greg went on. "Listen, while I read the headlines."

It was a four-line heading, beginning with "Dick Prescott's Fine
Nerve."

"There! I was afraid it was a roast, after all," sighed Danny
Grin.

"Take that fellow away and muzzle him," ordered Greg, then proceeded
to read the other sections of the headlines.

By this time Greg had a very attentive audience. Even Tom Reade
had ceased to scoff.

"Oh, bosh!" gasped Dick, when Greg was about one third of the
way through the column article.

"Isn't it true?" demanded Dave.