The morning paper, however, contained no allusion whatever to the football remarks of the day before.
Instead, there was an article descriptive of the changes to be made out at the High School athletic field this present year, and there were points and "dope" (as the sporting parlance phrases it) concerning the records and rumored new players of other High School elevens that were anxious to meet Gridley on the gridiron this coming season.
Thursday's article was just the kind of a one that was calculated to make every football enthusiast eager to see the season open in full swing.
Again the "soreheads" came to school, and once more they had to pass the silent groups of their fellow students, who stood with heads turned away. The reign of Coventry seemed complete. Never before had any of the "soreheads" understood so thoroughly the meaning of loneliness.
At recess all the talk was of football. None of this talk, however, was heard by the "soreheads." Whenever any of these went near the other groups the talk ceased instantly. There was no comfort in the yard, that morning, for a "sorehead."
When school let out that afternoon, at one o'clock, Bayliss, Fremont, Dodge and their kind scurried off fast. No one offered to stop them. These "exclusive" young men could not get away from the fact that exclusion was freely accorded them.
Fred Ripley, as had been his wont in other years when he was a freshman, walked homeward with Clara Deane.
"Fred, you haven't got yourself mixed up at all with that 'sorehead' crowd, have you?" Miss Deane asked.
"Not much!" replied Fred, with emphasis. "I want to play football this year."
"Will all the 'soreheads' be kept out of the eleven, even if they come to their senses?" Clara inquired.