Putting on an old raincoat and securing an umbrella, he left the house and started down the street. At the first corner he paused, for if he continued straight down Main Street he would have to pass Roger Eliot's home, and surely he had no desire by any chance to run upon Roger. A drizzling rain was falling, and twilight was coming on. Turning, he cut through Cedar Street and down Willow to avoid passing Urian Eliot's fine house.
On his way he passed a house no less pretentious than that of the Eliots; it was the home of Lemuel Hayden, whose only son, Bernard, had been compelled to leave Oakdale because of his jealous efforts and lying and plotting to injure Ben Stone, whom he bitterly hated. The boys of the town had talked that matter over many times, and it was universally conceded that Bernard's unrestrained hatred of Stone and plotting for the boy's injury had led him at last into a pit of his own digging and brought upon him nothing more than just retribution.
A strange and most unpleasant thought struck in upon Springer; in almost every particular, save a deliberate underhand effort to injure Grant, he was not a whit better than Bern Hayden, who now had not a single boy friend left in Oakdale.
That thought staggered Phil a bit. Why, in a vague way he had contemplated seeking some surreptitious method of accomplishing the overthrow of Grant!
"Oh, I guess I'm rotten!" he growled. "But it's dirty luck that's made me so!"
CHAPTER XX.
FELLOWS WHO MADE MISTAKES.
Roy Hooker lived one block further down the street. The popping explosions of an approaching motorcycle greeted Phil's ears as he walked on, and up the street came a chap astride such a machine, the lamp of which had not yet been lighted. The motorcycle swerved into Hooker's yard and nearly ran Springer down.
"Hey!" cried Phil, dodging. "What are you trying to do, Hooker?"