Mr. Carter laughed, but offered no advice or sympathy, as he pressed the signal for the assembly. Girls, Bobby thought, joining the patient Meg in the hall, always managed to have their way; a fellow might as well give up to them from the first. After assembly came lessons, and, finally, recess. "Go out into the fresh air," ordered Miss Mason, who taught the room Meg and Bobby were in. "It isn't cold out--not too cold. No, Frances, you can't stay in and draw." Miss Mason believed in fresh air, and she usually drove her class out into the yard, no matter what the weather, telling them that exercise would keep them warm. Those who tried to stay in the warm schoolroom were invariably disappointed, for Miss Mason opened every window as wide as it would go and let in the fresh cold air. "Come on, Frances," called Meg from the doorway. "We're going to play something new." Frances Smith followed Meg reluctantly, but when she heard about the snowball fight, she was immediately interested. "Mr. Carter said we could," announced Bobby to the boys. "We must remember and aim away from the windows and not hit the girls. Let's begin to build the forts now." "We'll have to have a general," said Tim Roon quickly. "I'll be general of the Americans." "Huh," retorted Bobby. "What do you think the other side is going to be? My men are Americans, too." "Who said you were a general?" jeered Tim. "Well, he is," replied Palmer Davis heatedly. "Isn't he, fellows? I guess Bobby proposed this. Come on, who wants to be on Bobby's side?" "I do," cried Meg instantly. "So do I," said Frances Smith. "Girls!" Tim Roon's tone was one of deepest disgust. "For goodness' sake, who ever heard of girls being in a snowball fight?" "Well, we're going to be in this one," Meg assured him with spirit. "You can't," said Tim. "Can, too," insisted Meg. "We don't want to fight on your side, anyway." The bell rang before they had this settled, and when Mr. Carter stopped Bobby in the hall to ask him how the plans were going, Bobby had to confess that they had done little beyond dispute over the names for the sides and whether the girls should be allowed to play. "It's the girls' school, after all, as much as it is yours," said Mr. Carter thoughtfully. "Some of them, I imagine, will prefer to look on from the windows; but, if I were you, I would be glad to have those who want to play on your side." "But Tim can't be American," insisted Bobby. "We won't be any other country." "Then choose colors," suggested Mr. Carter, "Why not Black and Orange?" Mr. Carter, you see, was a Princeton man, and he thought those colors very beautiful, as indeed they are. Bobby overtook Tim Roon on the stairs and asked him about the colors. "I'll be general of the Orange side," decided Tim promptly. Tim never thought to ask any one his opinion. He always took what he wanted for himself and did not bother to consult the wishes of others.