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 moment, White, if you please," he added as he returned to some writing he was doing.

Mr. Grayson was short and square, with a head that seemed just a little too large for his body. His thick, wiry hair was sprinkled with gray, as was his short beard and closely-cropped mustache. From behind his glasses a pair of mild, thoughtful brown eyes looked gravely on the world from under heavy, grizzled brows. Mr. Grayson impressed one as being strong physically and mentally, and not only strong but capable. His countenance, in spite of its accustomed gravity—and the Principal was seldom seen to smile—was, on the whole, pleasant and kindly.

While Mr. Grayson continued his writing, Lanny looked about the office with a new interest. It did, he told himself, certainly need new furnishings. The carpet, always too small for the big room, was threadbare in places and so faded that it was difficult to guess its original color. The flat-top oak desk was stained and battered, and when, presently, the Principal leaned back in his swivel-chair it squeaked most excruciatingly. Mr. Grayson removed his glasses and, being nearsighted, squinted a little as he turned to Lanny.