Carter thoughtfully. "Some of them, I imagine, will prefer to look on
from the windows; but, if I were you, I would be glad to have those who
want to play on your side."

"But Tim can't be American," insisted Bobby. "We won't be any other
country."

"Then choose colors," suggested Mr. Carter, "Why not Black and Orange?"

Mr. Carter, you see, was a Princeton man, and he thought those colors
very beautiful, as indeed they are.

Bobby overtook Tim Roon on the stairs and asked him about the colors.

"I'll be general of the Orange side," decided Tim promptly.

Tim never thought to ask any one his opinion. He always took what he
wanted for himself and did not bother to consult the wishes of others.

"Then I'll be the Black," said Bobby. "We'll have to do a lot of work
this noon to get ready. I'm glad we brought our lunch."

Tim's head was so full of snowball fights that he missed outright in
spelling, and Bobby was discovered drawing a plan of a fort when he
should have been studying his geography lesson.

"There," said Miss Mason when the noon bell rang, "now do try to get
this wonderful fight out of your minds by the time the one o'clock bell
sounds. And don't let me hear of any one going without his lunch to
play in the snow. Eat first, and then play."