"Is that anything like—I mean what sort of a place is it?" and Frank anxiously waited for the reply.
The gentleman looked critically at the two lads.
"Riverview Hall," he said slowly, "well, it was a good school once, but now—" he paused and shrugged his shoulders. "It's old and out of date," he went on. "In fact it is fast losing what little prestige it had. It isn't to be compared with Waterside Hall. Now that is a school to be proud of!" and he waved his hand toward the group of buildings, surrounded by a green campus that came to the river's edge. The boat was just opposite it now.
"But Riverview Hall," the man added, "I wouldn't let a son of mine go there, and I wouldn't advise any one to go who wanted to be at a real, live, up-to-date school," and then, evidently forgetting that our heroes had remarked that they expected to attend Riverview Hall, the gentleman turned aside, unconscious of having said anything to cause the lads uneasiness.
Andy and Frank continued to gaze regretfully at the big new school they were passing. They could see groups of students—early term arrivals—running about, while another group of lads were just putting into the water a fine eight-oared shell.
"Did you hear what he said, Frank?" asked Andy in a low voice.
"Sure. I couldn't very well help it."
"Riverview Hall old and out-of-date," murmured Andy slowly.
"He wouldn't let a son of his go there," added Frank.
"And we're going as fast as the boat can take us," went on his younger brother with something like a groan. "Say, we're in for it now, for keeps! And see what we're missing." He waved his hand toward Waterside, which they were now leaving behind. "Why didn't dad and mother pick out that place for us?" he asked.