"Hold on. I didn't say the first, did I? Old Shrugg says that the habit of jumping at conclusions is the sign of an inferior mind--" "Say, listen, Garry Grayson, leave my mind alone! It belongs to me, and I like it anyhow. Go on and talk football. If you didn't make the first team, what did you make?" "Mud pies," grinned Garry. Then as Ella flopped about indignantly in her chair and picked up her book again he condescended to explain. "There are two teams, sis. I thought you knew that--first and second. I made the second." Ella looked at him with interest. "What position?" "Quarterback." "That's good, Garry! I didn't think a freshman would have much of a chance to make either team. That's what they were all saying up at the school." "They don't very often. Not but what a fellow always has an idea that he may be the exception," he added. "Of course, on the second team I'm only a doormat for the regulars to wipe their feet on." "What a horrid way to put it!" ejaculated Ella. "All the same, I'd be willing to bet something right now." "What's that?" "That you won't be a doormat, as you call it, very long, and that before the end of the term you'll be on the regulars." "Thanks for them kind words," returned Garry. "Gee, sis, I wish you were right." He shook his head dubiously. "Seems a pretty tough problem though, this getting on the first team when you're only a poor downtrodden freshman. But you can better believe I'm going to do my best." "How about Pete Maddern and Tom Allison?" asked Ella. "They're on the scrubs too," replied Garry. "I'd like to see you boys take the conceit out of the regulars by beating them!" exclaimed Ella. "You said it," replied Garry. "Swell chance though. Still we'll muss their hair a little, if I'm any judge. And I'll bet that more than once this season we'll throw a scare into them." The next morning Garry called for Bill at the Sherwood home, which lay between his own house and the high school. As he stepped up on the porch he noticed that the front door was ajar. As the boys were accustomed to have the run of each other's houses, Garry did not ring but pushed the door open and stepped into the hall ready to sound his halloo for Bill. The moment he found himself inside he was sorry. In the room just off the hall that served as a library he heard the sound of voices. If they had been the voices used in ordinary conversation, Garry, so much at home in the household, would have tapped on the door and made his presence known. But the voices were angry and high-pitched, and Garry knew at once that the subject must be a private one, not to be intruded upon by any one outside the Sherwood family. While Garry stood hesitatingly, hardly knowing whether to advance and make his presence known or to back hurriedly to the porch and ring the bell, he could not avoid hearing a sentence that gave him the key to the trouble.