The school sports were held on Saturday, with rather disappointing results. Dickinson won his races, as was expected, but he made no new records, and his form was evidently not as good as he had shown in the same sports a year before. The school was disappointed, but not hopelessly so, for Marks’s expert opinion that Dickinson had reached his limit and would now go backward, found no general acceptance outside his own small set. Melvin won second place in the high jump, barely succeeding in doing five feet five, though in practice the week before he had several times got easily over the bar at five feet six. It was little comfort to him to know, as the others did not, that his slump was due, not to inability, but to anxiety for Dickinson. Varrell alone of the three gained glory by the work of the day, winning his event by a vault only a trifle below the school record.
That night came formal notice of the protest of Dickinson, to be adjudicated on the following Wednesday. The news flashed through the school with the usual electrifying force, charging every loyal heart with dismay and indignation.
In the Campus Woods.
CHAPTER XXII
THE DECISION OF THE COURT
“We certainly ought to hear to-night,” said Melvin on Monday, as, with Phil and Dickinson, he hung round the office, waiting for the mail to be distributed. “If the letters arrived Saturday, and the people attended to the matter promptly, the answers might have been mailed Saturday night.”
“More likely they didn’t arrive until Saturday night or this morning,” replied Dickinson, who took a less optimistic view. “Then if the people are like most others when you ask them for a favor, they’ll get round to the thing on Tuesday or later, and the letters may arrive on Thursday or any time during the following week—if indeed they are written at all.”
Nothing for Melvin; nothing for Dickinson; two papers for Varrell; Dick’s heart sank.