"What do you mean ?" "Why, I've been refreshing my general information about this town by consulting the city directory.

From that valuable tome I discovered that there are just nine undertakers in town." "Now, what on earth are you driving at---or driveling at ?" asked Dick Prescott, suspiciously, while the other partners remained wonderingly, eagerly silent.
"Why," pursued Dan, "we can summon seven of the undertakers for our job, and still leave two available for the public service." Dick sprang up from the stone wall, tightly gripping Dan Dalzell by the coat collar.
"Help me watch this lunatic, fellows," urged Dick, quietly.
"He's dangerous.

You've heard him! He's plotting assassination!" "Undertakers don't assassinate anyone, do they ?" queried Dan, with an air of mock innocence.
"What _are_ you plotting, then ?" insisted Dick.
Dan's face broadened into a very pronounced grin.
"Why, see here, fellows, there seems to be some fire behind Dr.
Thornton's smoke that the Board of Education may get excited over low recitation marks, and actually---_stop football_!" finished Dalzell, in a gasp.
The other five chums snorted.

Dan Dalzell was presently able to control his feelings sufficiently to proceed: "No one but actually dead ones would expect an American institution of the higher learning to exist in these days without football.
Hence, if the Grannies' Club---I mean the School Board---are planning to stop football, or even believe that it is possible, then they're sure enough dead ones.

Am I right ?" "Right and sane, after all," nodded Dick.
"Therefore," pursued Dan, "if the board members are dead ones, why not go ahead and bury them?
Or, at the least, show our kindly interest in that direction.