The boys were early in their places in the English class the following morning, and when Mr. Phillips entered there was a ripple of applause that swelled in volume as other pupils followed the lead of the former Hill Street boys. It was a sincere tribute, and Mr. Phillips flushed with pleasure as he bowed and took his seat. He made no formal speech, simply expressed his thanks at the welcome and his hope that he and the boys would enjoy their studies together and that his pupils would feel free to come to him with any of their problems, whether bearing on the lessons or not. There was no stiffness nor pedantry about him, and coming after the primness of Trompet Shrugg, the contrast was refreshing. In that little two-minute talk he got close to all the boys in the class, and it was evident that the English class, instead of being dreaded as before, was to be looked forward to with pleasure. At the close of the hour he held an impromptu reception as the former Hill Street boys crowded around him. "Gee, but we're glad to see you here, Mr. Phillips," said Garry, his face shining with pleasure, and his comrades expressed themselves with equal warmth. "You can be sure that I am very glad, too, to have so many of my old pupils in the class," responded Mr. Phillips warmly, as he shook hands with each. "I could see from the work you did this morning that all of you have kept well up in your studies. That's fine. You look, too, as though you were in fine physical condition. I suppose with some of you a part of that is due to football." "We fellows who play are at the game whenever we get a chance," replied Garry, with a smile. "I've kept track of you in that to some extent," said Mr. Phillips. "I saw that game with Wimbledon, and I was proud of the way you played, Garry, when you were called on to take the place of Dittler. And I saw you boys when you came so near to taking a game from the regulars. You all did good work." "That's because we had such a good coach when we were in Hill Street," declared Garry. "Oh, I don't know about that," laughed Mr. Phillips. "What little I did wouldn't have amounted to much if I hadn't had such good material to work with." "But after all we're only on the scrubs," put in Rooster, with a wry face. "That's a great deal in itself," replied Mr. Phillips. "You're right in line for promotion to the regulars. Of course you couldn't expect to make the regulars the first year, no matter how well you played. That's a tradition of high school and college that's very strong and seldom broken. But I look for all of you to be first string boys before you finish your course." "Here's hoping," said Garry, and after a little further talk on general matters the boys took their leave. The next morning, as Garry Grayson was eating breakfast, he heard a startled exclamation from his father, who was glancing over the morning paper. "What's the matter, Dad?" asked Garry, laying down his knife and fork.