The next day Leonard was called to the training table, where he took his place between Lawrence and Wilde and where, after his second or third repast, he was no longer Grant but “General.” On Wednesday he discovered with something of a thrill that Coach Cade was taking him seriously as a candidate for a guard position, for he was given a hard thirty-minute drill in blocking and breaking through in company with Renneker and Stimson and Raleigh and Falls. Soon after that, just when Leonard didn’t know, Squibbs disappeared from the football squad. It will be remembered, perhaps, that not long before Coach Cade had erased a name from a page of his little book. It was on Thursday evening that Johnny McGrath appeared at Number 12 Haylow in response to Leonard’s invitation. Both Leonard and Slim were at home, and Johnny had no cause to doubt that he was welcome. The conversation was not particularly interesting. Or, at least, it wouldn’t sound so if set down here. There was one subject not included in the many that were discussed, and that was the resemblance of Gordon Renneker to George Ralston. Just before he left Johnny said, a trifle hesitantly: “By the way, Slim, heard anything about Saturday?” “About the dinner, do you mean?” Slim’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I wondered if you’d heard any--er--any rumors.” Johnny looked very innocent just then. Slim shook his head slowly. “Nothing much, Johnny. Have you?” “Why, I don’t know.” Johnny appeared undecided. “You see, I’m a junior, Slim, and maybe I oughtn’t to give away any freshman secrets.” “Huh,” Slim grumbled, “if it wasn’t for you fellows putting ’em up to the mischief--” “Sure, I had nothing to do with it,” laughed Johnny. “And what I heard didn’t come from my crowd. ’Tis just something I accidentally came on.” “Well, out with it. What are the pesky kids up to?” “I’m not knowing that, Slim.” “Well, what the dickens do you know, you Sinn Feiner?” “All I know,” replied Johnny evasively, as he opened the door, “is that if I was President of the Sophomore Class I’d be watching out mighty sharp come Saturday evening.” Johnny grinned, winked meaningly and vanished. “Humph,” said Slim. “He does know something, the silly ass.” He started up as if to go after Johnny, but then sat down again and shrugged his shoulders. “He wouldn’t tell, I suppose.” “What do you think he was hinting at?” asked Leonard. Slim shrugged again. “How the dickens do I know? I dare say the freshies have cooked up some plot to make me look silly. Maybe they think they can keep me away from the dinner. All right, let them try it!” And Slim looked grim as he began to disrobe.