“I had an idea that all of the fellows whose families are rather comfortably well off might be in the movement—–­or the strike or whatever you call it,” Clara replied.

“Oh, no; there’s a lot of us who haven’t gone in with the kickers—–­and glad we are of it,” Fred replied.

“Still, don’t you believe in any importance attaching to the fact that one comes of one of the rather good old families?” asked Clara Deane thoughtfully.

“Why, of course, it’s something to be quietly proud of,” Fred slowly assented.  Then added, with a quick laugh: 

“But the events of the last two days show that one should keep his pride buttoned in behind his vest.”

As for the “soreheads” themselves, there weren’t any more meetings.  As soon as they actually began to realize how much amused contempt many of the Gridley, people felt for them, these young men began to feel rather disgusted with themselves.

Across the street, and not far from the gymnasium building, was an apartment house in which two apartments were vacant.  Being well acquainted with the agent, Bayliss borrowed the key to one of the apartments.  Before half past two that afternoon, Bayliss and Dodge were in hiding, where they could look out through a movable shutter at the gymnasium building.

“There go Prescott, Darrin and Reade,” Bayliss soon reported.

“Oh, of course; they’ll answer the football call,” sniffed Dodge.  “It was over fellows just like them that the whole trouble started.”

“And there’s Dalzell, Hazelton and Hanshew.  Griffith is just behind them.”

“Yes; all muckers,” nodded Dodge.

“There’s Coach Morton.”

“Of course; he has to attend,” replied Dodge, coming toward the shuttered window.  “But I’ll wager old Morton isn’t feeling over-happy this afternoon.”

“I don’t know,” grumbled Bayliss.  “There he is at the gym. door, shaking hands with Dick Prescott and Dave Darrin, and laughing pretty heartily.”

“Laughing to keep his courage up, I reckon,” clicked Bert Dodge dryly.  “Morton knows he’s going to miss a lot of faces that he’d like to see there this year.”

Then Dodge took up post at the peephole, while Bayliss stepped back, yawning.

Several more football aspirants neared and entered the gym.  The name of each was called off by Bert.

“This is the first year,” chuckled Bayliss, “when Gridley hasn’t had a chance for a star eleven.”

“I’ll miss the game, myself, like fury,” commented Dodge.  “All through last season, when I played on the second eleven, I was looking forward to this year.”

“Now, don’t you go to getting that streak, and quit us,” warned Bayliss quickly.  “Our set is going to get up its own eleven; don’t forget that!  And we’re going to play some famous games.”

“Sure!” admitted Dodge.  But there was a choke in his throat.

Just a few moments later Bert Dodge gave a violent start, then cried out, in a voice husky with emotion: