A whoop of delight went up from some of the boys.
"She'll be able to buy us bully ones; she has lots of money these days," declared one listener.
"Yes; Mrs. Dexter offered to supply the money," Dick admitted. "But, fellows, I want you all to think that over. I, for one, shall vote against getting our uniforms that way."
"Why?" came a chorus.
"Because, fellows, if we haven't brains and industry enough to get our uniforms ourselves we've no business togging up at all. We can play pretty good football, for that matter, with nothing but the ball itself."
Some sided with Dick; others were in favor of letting any one who was willing provide the field togs for the Central Grammar School eleven.
Dick didn't stop to argue long. He was hungry for his dinner. On Main Street he parted from his chums, pursuing his way home alone. He had not gone far when he had to pass a new building in process of erection. Three stories had already been built up, and the workmen were now engaged in putting on the fourth and last story.
Dick was just passing the main entrance of the new building when he heard a warning rattle above. Instinct made him dart into the entrance.
Nor did he move an instant too soon. Some thirty bricks fell to the sidewalk with a great clatter. Among them landed a heavy hod.
"My! But that was a close shave!" quivered the boy. "A second or two later and my head would have been split open!"