"No, he didn't exactly say so, but I know it would help. Besides, you might get injured playing this game, and then you'd be a cripple for life. You ought to be at work. Now I can make a place for you in the mill. In time you could work up to twelve or fifteen dollars a week, and of course, being my nephew, and the son of my only sister, I'd give you a chance. Better come, Dick. You might be hurt here." "And I might be hurt in the mill, Uncle Ezra. I have heard of people being caught in the machinery." "Well, of course it's possible," admitted the crabbed man. "But you must be careful. Besides if you got hurt in the mill it would be in a good cause. Though I warn you I carry accident insurance for all my employees and you can't collect any damages from me." "Then I think I'll stay and play football, Uncle Ezra." "Oh, the perversity and foolishness of the rising generation!" groaned Mr. Larabee. "But hurry on and get cleaned up. It is a disgrace for me to be seen walking with you, and I have on my best black suit that I don't want to get spoiled. Besides I must hurry back. I have a lazy hired man that loafs when I'm away." Dick thought that any hired man who would not take a little chance of resting when his taskmaster was away from home would not show much spirit. But there was Mrs. Larabee to reckon with, and she was almost as much of a "driver" as her husband. "There, now I am ready to hear all about it," said Dick, when he had led his uncle to one of the reception rooms of the academy, and had removed most of the traces of the recent football conflict. "Are father's affairs in much worse shape?" "I should say they were!" exclaimed Uncle Ezra. "This man Porter--why Nephew Richard--what is that on your nose?" and the horrified old man sprang from his chair and approached our hero. "Nose? What's the matter with it?" asked Dick in some alarm. "There's a great big cut on it! How did it happen?" "Oh, that's where I tried to stop Hal Foster's shoe with my nose, I expect. That's nothing. It's only a little cut. You should have seen the one I had last year. And when Teddy Naylor broke his collar bone----" "That's enough! Not another word about the brutalities of football! I've heard enough! It's disgraceful. Let us talk about something else." "I'm anxious to hear about father's affairs," said Dick. "I don't know very much," replied his uncle, "but I know that his enemies are pressing him hard to get the control of the trolley line away from him, and it is paying well, too. I never thought it would, but your father insisted that he was right. But he has too many irons in the fire, I'm sure. This time this Mr. Porter is fighting him, and when I saw your father yesterday he said he did not know what to do, because a Mr. Duncaster would not sell his stock." "Yes, I know that Mr. Duncaster," said Dick, with a grim smile at the recollection of the interview with the man. "I came here to argue with him," said Mr. Larabee.