For a few moments Fred lay utterly quiet, save for the trembling that he could not control.

During those same moments Towser made himself more comfortable by shifting himself so that he lay with his paws across Fred’s left shoulder-blade.  His teeth remained firmly fastened in Ripley’s shirt.

“Now, how long are you going to stay here, you beast?” glared Fred Ripley, though he did not dare emphasize his displeasure by stirring.  It was an instance in which his own displeasure amounted to infinitely less than that of the dog.

Over at the hotel Dick Prescott was reading this telegram to his chums: 

“Letter received.  Am communicating with other members of Council.  Will let you know when I have word.  Signed Howgate.”

“Oh, you’ll get your authorization all right,” Laura declared cheerily.  “It’s only a matter of form.”

Laura did not tell something she knew—–­to the effect that at her request Dr. Bentley had wired Mr. Howgate, urging that the permission be granted to the boys to race as a high school organization.

“May we take you young ladies out in the canoe this morning?” Dick inquired.

“Only a few of us, or for very short, trips,” Laura replied.  “The fact is, we girls are to play hostess to you this noon.”

“Hostess?” asked Dave, looking puzzled.

“Yes; we are going to be your hostesses at luncheon,” Laura smiled.

“But I thought you girls were going to skip luncheon in favor of the picnic meal to-night.”

“Wait until you boys see the luncheon,” laughed Susie Sharp, “and you’ll be sure to think we might as well have skipped that meal.  It will be light and shadowy, I promise you.  Toast, lettuce salad, moonbeam soup, sprites’ cake, feather pudding and ghost fruit.”

“Won’t there be some dog biscuit?” asked Danny Grin hopefully.

“You shall have a special plate,” Susie promised.

So the canoe was hauled up on the float and left there, and a general chat followed.

At noon, Dr. Bentley joined the young people, talking with them pleasantly, after which he led the way to the hotel.

There, in a little private dining room, the boys met Mrs. Bentley and Mrs. Meade.  The luncheon was soon after served.

It was a dainty meal, though far more elaborate than Susie had led the boys to expect.

At the end of the meal a waiter, looking duly solemn, presented at Danny Grin’s elbow a plate holding three dog biscuits.

“Thank you,” said Dan Dalzell politely.  “But I shall keep them for future use.”

Very calmly, notwithstanding Dick’s slight frown, Dan placed the biscuit in his coat pockets, though some of the girls found it hard indeed not to giggle.

After the meal the party adjourned to the lawn under the shade of some fine old elms.  A little later a farm wagon, drawn by a pair of horses, stopped near the group.