substitute half-back and found himself sitting, blanket-wrapped, on
the bench!

Tracey Black, catching his eye between periods, smiled sympathetically.
Tracey could have told him that Coach Robey was punishing him for
yesterday's misdemeanour, but he didn't, and the explanation didn't
occur to Clint. And the latter followed the rest back to the gymnasium
after practice was over, feeling very dejected, and was such poor
company all evening that Amy left him in disgust at nine and sought more
cheerful scenes.



CHAPTER V

ON THE SECOND

At the end of a fortnight Clint had, so to speak, become a regular
student of Brimfield Academy in good standing. That is, he had learned
the manners and customs and the language, for Brimfield, like every
similar institution, had its own ways and its own speech. Clint no
longer said "Hello!" or "How do you do?" on meeting an acquaintance. He
said "Hi!" and threw his head back with a little jerk. He bought a
diminutive grey cap with a small visor and wore it so far on the back of
his head that it was not discernible from the front. (If you belonged on
one of the teams you wore your insignia in maroon above the visor, or,
if you had won two "B's," you wore a maroon cap instead and the insignia
was in grey. But Clint hadn't come to that yet.) He offhandedly referred
to the Principal as "Josh," to the instructors as "Horace" or "Uncle
Sim" or "Jordy," as the case might be. He knew that a Hall Master was an