could hardly have been as gracious.

Well, hang it all, what are charges going to amount to, anyway ?" At the High School Monday morning, both before school and at recess, the members of the football squad cut Drayne dead.
"They suspect me, but they can't prove anything, anyway," chuckled the traitor to himself.

"Brass, Phin, my boy! Brass! That is bound to win out when the clodhoppers can't prove a blessed thing." As none of the students outside of the squad showed any especial inclination to cut him, Phin felt almost wholly reassured.
"It would be libelous, anyway, if the gang passed around a word that they couldn't prove," chuckled Drayne.

"So I guess those that may be doing a heap of thinking will have caution enough to keep their mouths shut, anyway," That afternoon, after luncheon, Phin Drayne took a long tramp over country roads at the back of the big town.

It was five o'clock when he returned.
"Here's a note for you, on High School stationery," said Mrs.
Drayne, putting an envelope in her son's hand.