"Same here!" murmured Andy.
"Such impudence!" exclaimed Mr. Callum. "You ought not to listen to them, Dr. Doolittle."
"It won't take long," spoke Frank significantly. "When we were sent here, Dr. Doolittle, my brother and I thought we were coming to an up-to-date school. Instead we found that it was a back number, and it's getting to be worse every day!"
Mr. Callum looked shocked and horrified. Dr. Doolittle acted as though he was awakening from some dream.
"This school is no good to a live chap who likes sport," went on Frank. "It's a dead one."
"Punk!" interjected Andy.
"That's the reason it's going to rack and ruin!" continued the elder lad, who grew enthusiastic as he thought of his wrongs. "No fellows that care for fun, or who have money to spend on it, will come here.
"Look at the baseball diamond! It's like some cow pasture, and the football gridiron is even worse. There isn't a grandstand worth the name. The fences are falling down, and the boathouse too. If my brother, and I and a few of our friends, hadn't fixed the boathouse, propped it up and covered the hole in the roof, it would have been in ruins long ago."
He paused for breath, for he had been talking rapidly.
"Is it possible? Is it possible?" murmured the doctor.