ct, it really is ours," remarked Donald Hall.
"But it would be a rotten, low-down trick for us to sell it away from
the school and from 1921, I think."

"Did my father suggest it?" queried Melville.

"Yes. He is quite keen on it. He says it can be made a paying
proposition."

There was a pause.

"What do you think of the offer, Kip?"

It was one of the members of the editorial staff who spoke.

"I?"

Paul turned crimson.

The question was painfully direct.

"Yes," demanded the other boys. "What do you say, Kipper? What's your
opinion?"

Paul looked uneasily into the faces of his friends. Their eyes were
fixed eagerly upon him. In their gaze he could read confidence and
respect. A flood of scorn for his own cowardice overwhelmed him. He
straightened himself.

"If you want to know what I honestly think," he heard himself saying,
"I'd call it a beastly shame to sell out."

There was a shout of approval. There was only one boy who did not join
in the hubbub; it was Weldon.

"How much would Carter give us apiece?" he asked.

"Shut up, you old grafter!" snapped Roger Bell. "There's no use in your
knowing. You're voted down already. Kip's perfectly right. We don't
want the _Echo's_ money."

"Tell Carter there's nothing doing," put in a high voice.

"You decide, then, to bequeath the _March Hare_ to 1921 with our
blessing?" asked Paul, with a laugh.

"Sure we do!"

"We are poor but honest!" piped Charlie Decker, rolling his eyes up to
the ceiling with a gesture that brought a roar of applause. Charlie was
the class joke.

A gong sounded.

"There's the bell!" cried somebody. "All aboard for Greek A!"

Melville Carter reached across and rumpled up Donald Hall's hair.

"Quit it, kiddo!" protested Donald nervously, drawing back from his
chum's grasp.

"What's the matter with you, all of a sudden?" demanded Melville,
surprised.

"Nothing! Cut it out, that's all."

"Aren't you coming to Greek?" asked young Carter.

"In a minute. Trot along; I want to speak to Kip."

The throng filed out until only Donald and Paul were in the room.

The editor-in-chief was standing alone at the window. For the first time
in weeks he was drawing the breath of freedom. A weight seemed removed
from his soul. He had been weak and vacillating, but when the test had
come he had not been false either to himself or to his friends. That at
least was something.

Thinking that he was alone, he drew from his pocket the fif