"Why, they're yelling and carrying that odious little Dick Prescott." "Must be dragging him off to give him a ducking, as he deserves," muttered Fred Ripley, gratingly.
"No, no! It's the school yell, and the girls are waving their handkerchiefs." "Then they must be canonizing the school sneak," returned Ripley, frowning hard.
"Well, don't wait to see," urged Clara.

"We don't care about mixing up too much with such a common crowd as the Gridley H.S.
students are." "Prescott is nothing but a mucker, but he spoiled my coat, and I'll make him smart for it!" uttered Fred, his face burning with sullen rage.
"You'll only smirch yourself, Fred, by having anything more to do with such a fellow," Clara warned him.
"When I'm even with the fellow, I won't have anything more to do with him," snorted Ripley.

"But I'll wait, watch and plan for years, if I have to, to take all the conceit and meanness out of that sneak.

I'll never quit until I can look at myself in the glass and tell myself that I've paid back the lowest trick ever played on me!".