looked down at the floor. After a while he saw them move away from the book, walk over to one of the windows, and stand there talking. Once more that day he had acted on impulse, and once more he was sorry. He squirmed in his seat, and would have given much to have known what the three football players were talking about.
It was Littlefield who finally came toward him. "What does that funny stuff on the sheet mean?" he asked.
"Twenty-five cents is a quarter," Perry said gruffly. "It's simple. Quarter to one."
"I see," Littlefield said gravely, and went back and joined the others.
On the way out of the room, for the first period of the afternoon, Perry overtook Praska.
"Did you tell them?" he demanded. He despised himself for asking the question, but something within him would not let him rest until he knew.
"I told them during lunch hour," the guard answered.
They went down the hall together. Apparently, to Praska, there was nothing more to tell. Perry bit his lips.
"What—what did they say?"
Praska's answer was cryptic. "Why did you write that fool thing on the attendance sheet?"
