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 car. "There was a mob at the stamp window, though."

"What was it you wanted to see me about?" asked Dick as he turned the car cautiously about and narrowly escaped a corner of a coal-wagon.

"About Mr. Grayson," replied Gordon, relaxing his clutch on the side of the car as the danger was averted.

"What has he been doing, Gordie?"

"It's what he's going to do. He's going to have a birthday next month."

"Think of that!" marveled Dick. "I didn't suppose high school principals ever paid attention to anything so—so frivolous as birthdays!"

"I don't know that he does," laughed the other, "but some of the girls are. Hasn't Louise Brent said anything to you about it?"

"No. I haven't seen her for a couple of days."

"You haven't! What's the matter? Haven't quarreled, I hope." Gordon's tone was vastly concerned.

"No, but I've been busy. Stop your kidding and tell me what you are trying to get at."

"Well, the girls—quite a lot of them, mostly seniors, I think—want to give Mr. Grayson a present