"How do you do, Miss Hazel," said Sam, sweeping her an elaborate bow,
and then gazing boldly into her eyes. "I hope you're well. If you're as
smart as you look, I guess you're way up in G."

"I am quite well, thank you," returned Miss Hazel, the angle of her chin
indicating her most haughty air.

"Say, young lady, pass up the chilly stuff," replied Sam with a laugh.
"It don't go with that mighty fine complexion of yours. Say, did you
ever see the leading lady in 'The Spider's Web'? Well, you make me think
of her, and she was a peacherino. Never seen her? No? Well, you ought to
see her some day and think of me."

Hazel turned a disgusted shoulder on Sam's impudent face and engaged
Larry in vivacious conversation.

"Well, I am off to the ball practice," said Tom. "Got a match on
Saturday--High School against the world. Guess they would like to have
you, Sam, only I wouldn't care to have you play against us. You don't
play baseball, eh?" continued Tom, addressing Larry. "What do you
play--football?"

"Not much; never tried much," said Larry, flushing over his lack of
sporting qualifications.

"He plays the fiddle," said a quiet little voice.

Larry, flushing violently, turned around and saw a little, brown-faced
maid gazing thoughtfully at him.