“And tell him we’ll agree not to bother him or his old apples again,” added Ted. “The apples I got from there last fall weren’t extra good, anyway!”
“But where’s the money coming from if he should agree?” asked Dolph.
“He oughtn’t to charge much,” answered Jack. “Dr. Benedict could give half and the school could make up the rest.”
“Benny ought to pay it all,” said Sam.
“Well, maybe he would. Anyway, if he wouldn’t the fellows could make up the rest, I guess.”
“Maybe,” Ted suggested, “we could interest the graduates in it.”
“Well, let’s find out first whether we can have the land. It will be time enough then to find a way to pay for it. Just at present, gentlemen, I am going to study a little.” And Dolph pulled his books toward him, intimating that the conference was over.
Three days later, on Saturday morning, the three captains called on Dr. Benedict. The Principal received them in his library, a big, book-lined room behind the office, with which the students were less acquainted than with the latter room. Doctor Benedict was a man of medium height and middle age; clean-shaven, with a pair of keen gray eyes looking more often over than through the glasses perched perilously on a short nose. In the interims of conducting Maple Ridge School the Doctor found time to write text-books on physics that were widely used. There were those who maintained that the real head of the school was Mrs. Benedict, the Doctor’s shrewd and energetic wife, whose official position was that of matron. Both were well liked by the fellows, Mrs. Benny—as she was called—perhaps a bit more than the Doctor, probably because her duties brought her into closer touch with the students.
Dolph acted as spokesman, and the Doctor listened attentively to his presentation of the matter. When Dolph was through, the Doctor swung around in his swivel desk-chair, placed the tips of his fingers together and looked out of the window for a minute. It was a favorite trick of his to apparently seek inspiration from the view.