The boys in the room laughed good-naturedly and one of them said,
"That's enough, Mott. They don't need any more."

"Hold on, I'm not done yet," replied Mott. "Tell me what's the name of
the little school from which you came," he demanded of Will.

"The Sterling High School."

"And you ran there?"

"A little."

"Get any medals?"

"A few."

"Nice ones! Got any here?"

On his fob Will wore the gold medal he had won the preceding June, but
he laughed and made no reply to Mott's question, fearful of incurring
further ridicule if he should display the trophy.

"Did you run against the track team of the Meadowbrook Academy?"
inquired Mott.

"No. Is that where you fitted?" replied Will simply. Hawley broke into
another loud laugh and Mott's face flushed. Will perceived that he had
made a mistake and his better plan would be to say as little as
possible, whatever the provocation might be or the opening his adversary
might give him.