Then he stopped, very suddenly.

Just as plainly as anyone else present the principal now saw the absurdity of expecting a new hat out of the athletics fund.

Mr.Cantwell shot a very savage look at innocent-appearing Dave Darrin.
"My afternoon is spoiled, as well as my hat," remarked the principal, turning to leave with as much dignity as could be expected from man who bore such a battered hat in his hands.
"The hatter might be able to block your hat out and repair it," suggested Hudson, though without any real intention of offering aid.

"Our coachman had that sort of trick done to played-out old silk hat that Dad gave him." "Mr.Hudson," returned the principal, turning and glaring at this latest polite tormentor, "will you be good enough to remember that I am not extremely interested in your family history.
"Back to your practice, men!" called the coach sharply, after the last had been seen of the back of the principal's black coat.
"It was too bad!" muttered Dick, in a tone of genuine regret.
"Say that again, and I'll make an effort to thrash you, Prescott!" challenged Hudson, with a grin.
"Well, I am sorry it happened," Dick insisted.

"And mighty sorry, too." "You couldn't help it." "I know it, but that hardly lessens my regret.