Ripley, feeling somewhat responsible for that scamp's wrong doing,
in that Fred had put him up to his first serious wrong doing,
had given Scammon some money and a start in another part of the
country. That disappearance saved Scammon from a stern reckoning
with Prescott's partners, who had not forgotten him.

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!