It wasn’t.  Dr. Thornton was a man of so few and direct words that the boys gathered on the male side of the big assembly room looked around at each other in plain dismay.

“That miserable old Board of Education is equal to shutting down on us right in the middle of the season,” whispered Frank Thompson to Dent, who sat next him.

“You know the answer?” Dent whispered back.

“What?”

“Give the board no excuse for any such action.  Keep up to the academ. grind.”

“But how do that and train-----”

A general buzz was going around on the boys’ side of the room.  Several of the girls, too, were whispering in some excitement, for most of the girls were enthusiastic “fans” at all of the High School games.

Whispering, provided it was “necessary” and did not disturb others, was not against the rules.  These were no longer school children, but “young gentlemen” and “young ladies,” and allowed more freedom than in the lower schools.  For a few moments Dr. Thornton tolerated patiently the excited buzz in the big assembly room.  Then, at last, he struck a paper-weight against the top of his desk on the platform.

“First period recitations, now,” announced the principal.

Clang!  At stroke of the bell there was a hurried clutching of books and notebooks.  The students filed down the aisles, going quickly to their proper sections, which formed in the hall outside.  The tramp of feet resounded through the building, for some recitation rooms were on the first floor, some on the second and some on the third.

Two minutes later there was quiet in the great building.  Recitation room doors were closed.  One passing through the corridors would have heard only the indistinct murmur of voices from the different rooms.  Within five minutes every one of the instructors detected the fact that, though discipline was as good as ever, Dr. Thornton’s words had spoiled the morning’s recitations.  Try as they would, the young men could not fasten their minds on the work on hand.  The hint that athletics might be stopped had stung.

Dick & Co. were all sitting in IV.  English.

“Mr. Prescott,” directed Submaster Morton, “define the principle of suspense, as employed in writing.”

Dick started, looked bewildered, then rose.

“It’s---it’s-----” he began.

“A little more rapidly, if you please.”

“I studied it last night, sir, but I’m afraid I’ve clean forgotten all about that principle,” Dick confessed.  He sat down, red-faced, nor was his discomfiture decreased by hearing some of the occupants of the girls’ seats giggle.

“I shall question you about that at the next recitation.  Mr. Prescott,” nodded the submaster.

“Ye-es, sir.  I hope you’ll have luck,” Dick answered, absently.

“What’s that?” rapped out Mr. Morton.

Dick, aroused, was on his feet again, like a flash.