The next morning when Lanny reached school he found a summons from the Principal awaiting him and sought the office with trepidation. He wasn’t aware of having transgressed any rules and his class standing was no worse than it had been all the Fall. In fact, for the last fortnight he thought he had been doing considerably better. The office was on the main floor of the building, at the end of the long corridor. Mr. Grayson greeted the visitor pleasantly and asked him to be seated. “Just a moment, White, if you please,” he added as he returned to some writing he was doing.
Mr. Grayson was short and square, with a head that seemed just a little too large for his body. His thick, wiry hair was sprinkled with gray, as was his short beard and closely-cropped mustache. From behind his glasses a pair of mild, thoughtful brown eyes looked gravely on the world from under heavy, grizzled brows. Mr. Grayson impressed one as being strong physically and mentally, and not only strong but capable. His countenance, in spite of its accustomed gravity—and the Principal was seldom seen to smile—was, on the whole, pleasant and kindly.
While Mr. Grayson continued his writing, Lanny looked about the office with a new interest. It did, he told himself, certainly need new furnishings. The carpet, always too small for the big room, was threadbare in places and so faded that it was difficult to guess its original color. The flat-top oak desk was stained and battered, and when, presently, the Principal leaned back in his swivel-chair it squeaked most excruciatingly. Mr. Grayson removed his glasses and, being nearsighted, squinted a little as he turned to Lanny.
“Well, White, how are football affairs getting on?” he asked.
Lanny was so greatly relieved to find that he was not in for a caution regarding his class standing that for an instant he found it hard to focus his thoughts on the question. Finally, however, “Why, pretty well, sir,” he answered vaguely.
“Hm!” Mr. Grayson thoughtfully polished the lenses of his glasses with a silk handkerchief which he carried for the purpose. “Mr. Carter talked to me over the ’phone last evening. He seemed to think that there was some dissatisfaction on the part of the school. He said his son had told him the boys were quite excited and were talking of appealing to the Athletic Committee to do something, I don’t know just what.”
Mr. Carter was one of the graduate members of the Committee and had a son in High School.
“Yes, sir, there is some talk,” acknowledged Lanny. “There’s to be a meeting to-night. The fellows don’t like it that the team has been beaten so often. But I don’t see what good it is going to do to stir up a lot of talk and trouble, Mr. Grayson.”
“I see. Mr. Carter rather inferred that the boys held the coach to blame. Is that the way it is?”