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 Street in order. In the windows of West Hall, a dormitory, gaily hued cushions added color to the monotony of the brick edifice, and here and there an upthrown casement allowed a white sash-curtain to wave lazily in the breeze of a mild March afternoon. As the two boys turned in at the first gate, under the modest sign announcing "Hillman's School—Entrance Only," Laurie broke the short silence.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" he asked.

"I don't know. There isn't much a fellow can do except read."

"Or study," supplemented Laurie virtuously. "Better come along and watch practice a while."

But Ned shook his head. "Not good enough, old-timer. That baseball cage is too stuffy. Guess I'll wander over to the field and see if there's anything going on."

"There won't be. They say the ice has gone to mush. Listen. If you see Kewpie, tell him I died suddenly, will you? And how about Polly? Shall I meet you there?"

"Yes, five thirty we told her. So-long!"