Though not a voice sounded, every eye was turned on the white-faced pair.
Bert Dodge's lips moved. He tried to summon us control enough of his tongue to utter some indifferent remark to his companion.
But the sound simply wouldn't come.
After a walk that was only a few yards in distance, yet seemed only less than a mile in length, the humiliated pair rushed up the steps, opened the great door and let themselves in.
At recess neither Bayliss nor Dodge had the courage to appear outside. As they left school that afternoon they were treated to the same dose of "silence."
Tuesday morning neither Dodge nor Bayliss showed up at all at school.
On Thursday morning High School readers of "The Blade" were greatly interested in the following personal paragraph:
"Bayliss and Dodge, both of the senior class, High School, have severed their connection with that institution. It is understood that the young men are going elsewhere in search of better educational facilities."
That was all, but it told the boys and girls at Gridley High School all that they needed to know.
"That is the very last gasp of the 'sorehead' movement," grinned
Tom Reade, in talking it over with Dan Dalzell.