To reach the assembly hall, which occupied the entire first floor rear section of East Hall, just as the dining hall occupied the same location on the other side, Clif had to go the length of Middle Hall, pass into the wider corridor of the newer building beyond, turn left and follow the main corridor to the staircase. East Hall, save for a dozen rooms on the third floor, was devoted principally to the use of the Junior School, composed of boys between the ages of eleven and fourteen. Mr. Clendenin, known as “Wim” because of his invariable custom of signing himself “Wm. Clendenin,” was at the head. The Juniors had their own parlor, recreation room, library, reading room, game room and office on the ground floor. They ate, however, in the dining hall in West and shared the class rooms in Middle with the older students. Middle, once containing all there was of the school, had long since been remodeled into class rooms only. Doctor Wyndham, the Principal, occupied a suite of three rooms and bath on the second floor of East Hall. Other suites, smaller, similar to Mr. McKnight’s, were situate in each of the newer buildings, and accommodated fourteen faculty members. Clif descended the stairway to the first floor corridor. At the far end the vicinity of the assembly hall entrance was crowded with boys who, waiting outside until the last moment, had now begun to crowd through the wide doorway. Clif concluded that he was the last one to arrive, but he wasn’t, since, as he passed the open door of a room beyond Mr. Clendenin’s office, he was obliged to step quickly aside to avoid collision with a wheel chair which, emerging noiselessly on rubber tires, had given him no warning. The chair was occupied by a boy a year or so Clif’s senior. A dark plaid rug covered the lower part of his body. On a shelf stretched between the chair arms lay a book and a fountain pen. The occupant of the chair propelled it by the wheels, turning it deftly to avoid Clif and directing it along the corridor toward assembly hall. He smiled an apology as he did so. Noting that he was obliged to lean forward slightly to grasp the wheels, or, rather, a rim that projected from them for the purpose of propulsion, Clif said impulsively: “Let me be chauffeur, won’t you?” The boy in the chair looked back and smiled again. “Why, thanks. I’m just going to the assembly hall, and it really isn’t hard, but if you don’t mind giving me a shove――” “Glad to,” said Clif heartily. By the time they had reached the door the throng had thinned to a few embarrassed, giggling juniors, and, at the other’s request, Clif wheeled the chair just inside the portal. Doctor Wyndham was already on the platform and the fellows were clapping loudly. The boy in the chair smiled his thanks and Clif tiptoed across to Tom, who had saved a seat for him in the rear row. “Who’s that fellow?” asked Tom in whispers.