“Oh, boys and girls both, eh? I don’t think I’d like that.”
“But it isn’t!”
“Isn’t it? But if you go there—?”
“I don’t go to school there; I just live there. My father is the Principal.”
“Oh, now I savvy,” said Dick. “Where is it? Is it nice? I’d like to take a look at it.”
“It’s just up here a bit further,” answered Harry. “You can see it from Hammond. Haven’t you noticed?” Dick shook his head.
“It’s on a hill,” continued Harry, “and you would have seen it if you weren’t blind. It’s the nicest school there is, and the boys are dandy. And we can beat Hammond at anything—foot-ball, base-ball, tennis, hock—well, not hockey, maybe, but we’ve only played one year; but we’ll beat them this year, at that, too!”
“Sounds like the real thing,” laughed Dick. “How big is it!”
“Well, it’s smaller than Hammond,” Harry acknowledged grudgingly, “but it—it’s more select! There are forty-two boys this year; there were forty-three last season when Otto Ferris was here.”
“What happened to him?” asked Dick.