- plause broke in on the pleasant flow he usually discovered
that he didn't know what the speaker had just said. Then, too, the boy in the wheel chair interested Clif. He stole frequent glances across and wondered a good deal about him. He looked remarkably healthy, with a good deal of color in his cheeks and plenty of sparkle in his dark eyes. His hair was dark, too, almost black, it seemed, and was brushed straight back from a high forehead which, aided by a straight nose and a slightly pointed chin, made Clif think of the Flaxman profiles of ancient Greek heroes. A handsome fellow, Clif decided, and attractive. He had frequently heard the word magnetic used in reference to persons, but this was the first time it had ever occurred to him as appropriate. He concluded that he would rather like to know the boy in the chair.
The Principal's talk was a good deal like a dozen or more other talks he had made on similar occasions. There was a welcome to the new students, a greeting to the old ones, much sensible advice on many subjects, a reference to athletics—and especially football, a touch of humor here and there and, at the last, an appeal to his hearers for a conscientious performance of their duties to themselves, their parents and the School. Outside, Clif hazarded the opinion that it had been a mighty fine talk, hoping that Tom wouldn't call on him to prove it by quotations. Tom said: "Yes, but I didn't get much of it. Let's go over to the big city and buy some peanuts or something, Bingham. I'm starved!"
