Fred was again a well-dressed boy, also a well-mannered one.  He had very little to say, and he kept his snobbishness, if any remained, well concealed.

Dick & Co., after the scene in the lawyer’s office, if not exactly cordial with the unhappy junior, at all events remembered that they had agreed to “forget.”  Nor were Prescott and his chums priggish enough to take great credit to themselves for their behavior.  They merely admitted among themselves that any fellow ought to have the show that was now accorded to the younger Ripley.

Baseball had gone off with an hurrah this season, though there had been an enormous amount of hard work behind all the successes.

Now, but one game remained.  Out of fourteen played, so far, only one had resulted in a tie; the others had all been victories for Gridley.

With the warm June weather commencement was looming near.  One Wednesday morning there was a long and tedious amount of practice over the singing that was to be offered at the close of the school year.

“Huh!  I thought we’d never get through,” snorted Prescott, as he raced out into the school yard.  “And we were kept ten minutes over the usual time for recess.”

“Gee, but it’s hot to-day,” muttered Tom Reade, fanning himself with his straw hat.

“Oh, what wouldn’t I give, right now, for a good swim down at Foster’s Pond!” muttered Purcell moodily.

“Well, why can’t we have it?” suggested Gint.

“We couldn’t get back by the time recess is over,” replied Purcell.

“The end of recess would be when we did get back, wouldn’t it!” asked a senior.

“Let’s go, anyway!” urged another boy, restlessly.

As students were allowed to spend their recess quietly on the near-by streets, if they preferred, the girls generally deserted the yard.

The spirit of mischievous mutiny was getting loose among the young men.  Nor will anyone who remembers his own school days wonder much at that.  In June, when the end of the school year is all but at hand, restraints become trebly irksome.

Dick’s own face was glowing.  As much as any boy there he wanted a swim, just now, down in Foster’s Pond.  Oh, how he wanted it!

“See here, fellows,” Prescott called to some of the nearest ones.  “And you especially, Charley Grady, for you’re studying to be a lawyer.”

“What has a lawyer to do with the aching desire for a swim?” inquired Grady.

“Well, post us a bit,” begged Dick.  “What was it the great Burke had to say about punishing a community?”

“Why,” responded Grady thoughtfully, “Burke laid down a theory that has since become a principle in law.  It was to the effect that a community cannot be indicted.”

“All of us fellows—–­all of us might be called a community, don’t you think?” queried Dick.

“Why—–­er—–­aha—–­hem!” responded Grady.