in.

"Nothing," drawled Tom, "except that you're the finest, daintiest
and sweetest-looking lot of girls we know. But that's true every
other day in the week."

"We didn't ask you anything like that," Susie pouted, "though
doubtless it's all true enough. But don't you notice what we're
all wearing?"

"I think I see what you mean," Greg suggested hopefully. "Each
one of you is wearing the Gridley High School pin."

"Correct!" assented Susie warmly. "But can't you guess why we're
wearing the pins? It's because when Gridley boys can win such
a race as you won to-day it's a real honor to wear the pin."

"And a bigger honor to have it worn on our account," Dick laughed.

"I was waiting to see who would be the first boy to say something
really nice!" cried Clara Marshall.

"Have you heard of any more canoe clubs coming this way---high
school clubs with which you could arrange races?" asked Laura.

"No," said Dick, with a shake of his head. "Even if there were
a dozen coming here I'm afraid we'd have to lose the chance."

"Why?" asked Belle quickly.

"Because we can remain here only two or three days longer."

"Oh, that's a shame," broke in Susie. "Do you really have to
go back to Gridley?"

"Yes," said Dick solemnly.

"Is the reason one that you may properly tell us?" Laura inquired.

"It's one that we're not ashamed of, because we can't help it,"
Prescott rejoined. "Our vacation up here is nearly at an end
just because our funds are in the same plight---nearly at an end,
you see."

"Oh, what a shame!" cried Clara sympathetically.

"To be short of money is more than a shame," blurted Tom Reade.
"It is a crime, or ought to be. No one has any right to be
poor---but what can we do?"

"Oh, well, there are plenty of pleasant times to be had in good
old Gridley in the summer time," Dick declared stoutly. "And
we shall have our canoe there."

While chatting the young people had been walking up through the
hotel grounds until now they stood just behind the stone wall
that separated the ground from the road.

"Why---look what's coming!" urged Dave Darrin, in a voice expressive
of mock interest.

All looked, of course.

Fred Ripley, his hat drawn down over his eyes, came trudging along.

In one hand he carried a dress suit case, and from the way his
shoulder sagged on that side, the ease appeared to be heavy.

On young Ripley's face was a deep scowl.

"Judging from his appearance," suggested