For the next week or so Dick studied desperately; even Roy and Chub, who knew what he was capable of in the way of concentration, were surprised at the zeal he displayed. All their efforts to entice him out of the library or the study room in the afternoons went for naught and in the end they were invariably forced to take their departure without him, leaving him alone in his glory and often to the undisputed possession of the room. Day after day of bright, cold weather came and passed, days with crisp winds which would have brought joy to the heart of the ice-yachtsman. Harry was very indignant at her father’s action and confided to Roy and Chub that she had scolded him severely.
“I guess he felt pretty much ashamed of himself,” laughed Roy. “Is he going to apologize to Dick?”
“N—no, he was very unreasonable,” answered Harry. “He said he guessed things would have to stand the way they were.”
“You’ll have to manage him better than that,” Roy said with a shake of his head. “Your authority is in danger, Harry.”
Saturday evening Dick took a brief vacation from study and there was a meeting of the F. H. S. I. S. in the barn. But nothing was accomplished, although ways and means were discussed for some time and all sorts of schemes for raising the money were advanced.
“If only Ferry Hill had turned out a few dozen millionaires,” mourned Chub. “Every school ought to graduate a millionaire a year.”
“Maybe some of the Ferry Hill grads are millionaires,” said Dick thoughtfully. “If we only had a list of them we might be able to find out.”
“I thought millionaires didn’t go to school,” said Harry. “They’re self-made, aren’t they?”