"Like a jackass, more likely," responded Don ruefully.

"No, for a jackass, dearie, doesn't take a hint."

"Well, but I don't believe I _can_ play any faster, Tim. If I could I'd
be doing it, wouldn't I? Just naturally, I mean."

"Never mind the conundrums, Don. You try it. If you do I'll be willing
to guarantee you a place on the first."

"I guess your guarantee wouldn't cut much ice," objected Don, with a
laugh. Then he sobered and added: "Funny game, though, me coaching
Kirkwell and Merton and Goodhugh. Looks as if I was the one needed the
coaching."

"Sure. We all need it. No one's perfect, Don, although, without
boasting, I will say that I come pretty near it."

"You come pretty near being a perfect chump, if that's what you mean."

Tim shook his head. "It isn't at all what I mean. Now cut out the
artless prattle and let me find some sense in this history stuff--if
there is any!"

CHAPTER IX

THE WIDTH OF A FINGER

AT chapel the next morning Mr. Fernald, the principal, after the usual
announcements had been made, lifted a newspaper from the table at his
side and ran his eyes over an item there. "I have here," he said, "a
copy of this week's Brimfield _Times_, which tells of an incident of
which I had not learned. In telling of a fire on Saturday night last
which destroyed a barn and damaged other buildings on the farm of Mr.
William Corrigan, some three miles from the village, the _Times_ makes
mention of the valuable assistance of a Mr. Grover Brady and four boys
of this school. According to the _Times_, Mr. Brady and four boys dashed
to the scene in a high-powered automobile, organised a bucket brigade
and saved"--Mr. Fernald consulted his authority again--"saved the
dwelling house from the devouring element. The metaphor is that of the
paper. Possibly the _Times_ is misinformed with regard to the heroic
young firemen, although I hope not. I should be very pleased to
discover that they were really Brimfieldians. If they were, if they are
before me at this moment, I trust they will signify the fact by standing
up. I'm sure we'd all like to know their identity and give them
well-deserved applause. Now then, will the modest heroes kindly reveal
themselves?"

Silence ensued, a silence broken only by a few whispers and some
shuffling of feet. Every fellow's eyes searched the room, or, at least,
that is true of almost every fellow. Tim smiled innocently and
expectantly at the principal, Clint s