Fred's face was glowing with eagerness. His mother, who was standing
just behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband.

"Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the star
pitcher of the school nine, I will."

"When may I go to see Everett, sir?" asked Fred, making no effort
to conceal the great joy this promise had given him.

"Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll make
it to-morrow. I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridge
with you.".

It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that Fred
Ripley went back to the High School that afternoon. He didn't
arrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting;
he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on hand
at or soon after two-thirty.

When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eighty
High School boys of the three upper classes present. Ripley nodded
to a few with whom he was on the best terms.

Settees had been placed at one end of the gym. There was an aisle
between two groups of these seats.

"Gentlemen, you'll please come to order, now," called out Coach
Luce, mounting to a small platform before the seats.