That evening the Board of Education met in dull and stately session.  These meetings were generally so dull and devoid of real news that the local press was content to get its account from the secretary’s minutes.  Tonight was no exception in this respect.  No reporter was present when Chairman Stone rapped for order.  Seven excellent men were these who sat around the long table.  Most of them had made their mark in local business, or in the professions.  Yet, as it happened, none of these excellent men had ever made a mark in athletics in earlier years.  As they appeared to have succeeded excellently in life without football the members of the Board were inclined to reason that football must be a bad thing.

After the session had droned along for three-quarters of an hour, and all routine business had been transacted, Chairman Stone looked about at his fellow Board members.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “we have noticed that, during October and November, the High School percentages, especially those of the young men, are prone to fall a bit.  There can be but one cause for this—–­the football craze.  There are signs that this stupid athletic folly will take a greater hold than ever, this year, on our High School students.  I thought it best to ask Dr. Thornton to caution the students that any such falling-off of percentages this year might make it necessary for us to forbid High School football.”

“It was an excellent idea to give such a warning, Mr. Chairman,” nodded Mr. Hegler.

“So I thought,” replied Chairman Stone, complacently.  “Yet, while we have been in session this evening, I have been wondering why it would not be a good plan to promote scholarship at once by summarily forbidding football.”

“Even for the balance of this present season?” asked Mr. Chesbritt, ponderously.

“Even for the balance of this season,” confirmed Mr. Stone.

There were murmurs of approval.  Just at that moment, however, the door opened suddenly, and Reporter Len Spencer, a bright-faced young man of twenty-two, hurried in on tip-toe.  Then, suddenly, he halted, looking unutterably astonished.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Chairman and gentlemen,” murmured the reporter.  “But I did not expect to find you in session.”

“And why not, Mr. Spencer?” demanded the chairman, crisply.

“Why, I—–­er—–­I—–­well, to be candid, gentlemen, ‘The Blade’ had information that some one had died here.”

“Died here?” gasped Chairman Stone.  “Upon my word that would be a most extraordinary thing to do in the presence of this Board.  Where did you get such very remarkable information, young man?”

“It was telephoned to ‘The Blade’ office,” Len Spencer replied.

“By whom?”

“I—–­I really don’t know,” replied the young reporter, looking much embarrassed.  “I don’t believe our editor, Mr. Pollock, does, either.  The news came in over the ’phone.  Mr. Pollock told me to rush up here and get all the facts.”