ver. "I'm afraid not, sir. The truth is, I
guess Mother can't afford it. Of course, Aunt Ella has very kindly
offered to board me free for the term, but fees, books, and so on
would require at least fifty dollars. I don't expect to go."

"That's a pity. Can't you earn the necessary money yourself?"

Ned shook his head. "Not much chance for that in Carleton, Mr. Rogers.
I've cudgelled my brains for the past month trying to think of some
way, but in vain. Well, here is the crossroad, so I must get off.
Thank you for the drive, sir."

"Keep on thinking, Ned," advised Mr. Rogers, as the lad jumped out.
"Perhaps you'll hit on some plan yet to earn that money, and if you
do--well, it will prove that you have good stuff in you."

"I think it would," laughed Ned to himself, as he trudged away. "A
quiet little farming village in winter isn't exactly a promising field
for financial operations."

At Winterby Corners Ned found a crowd of boys waiting for him, and
soon paired off with his chum, Jim Slocum. Jim, as usual, was
grumbling because they had to go all the way to Windsor to skate.

"Like as not we'll get into a free fight with the Windsorites when we
get there, and be chevied off the ice," he complained.

The rivalry which existed between the Carleton and the Windsor boys
was bitter and of long standing.

"We ought to be able to hold our own tonight," said Ned. "There'll be
thirty of us there."

"If we could only get Old Dutcher to let us skate on his pond!" said
Jim. "It wouldn't hurt his old pond! And the ice is always splendid on
it. I'd give a lot if we could only go there."

Ned was silent. A sudden idea had come to him. He wondered if it were
feasible. "Anyhow, I'll try it," he said to himself. "I'll interview
Old Dutcher tomorrow."

The skating that night was not particularly successful. The small pond
at Windsor was crowded, the Windsor boys being out in force and,
although no positive disturbance arose, they contrived to make matters
unpleasant for the Carletonites, who tramped moodily homeward in no
very good humour, most of them declaring that, skating or no skating,
they would not go to Windsor again.

The next day Ned Allen went down to see Mr. Dutcher, or Old Dutcher,
as he was universally called in Carleton. Ned did not exactly look
forward to the interview with pleasure. Old Dutcher was a crank--there
was no getting around that fact. He had "good days" occasionally when,
for him, he was fairly