Thursday's article was just the kind of a one that was calculated to make every football enthusiast eager to see the season open in full swing. Again the "soreheads" came to school, and once more they had to pass the silent groups of their fellow students, who stood with heads turned away. The reign of Coventry seemed complete. Never before had any of the "soreheads" understood so thoroughly the meaning of loneliness. At recess all the talk was of football. None of this talk, however, was heard by the "soreheads." Whenever any of these went near the other groups the talk ceased instantly. There was no comfort in the yard, that morning, for a "sorehead." When school let out that afternoon, at one o'clock, Bayliss, Fremont, Dodge and their kind scurried off fast. No one offered to stop them. These "exclusive" young men could not get away from the fact that exclusion was freely accorded them. Fred Ripley, as had been his wont in other years when he was a freshman, walked homeward with Clara Deane. "Fred, you haven't got yourself mixed up at all with that 'sorehead' crowd, have you?" Miss Deane asked. "Not much!" replied Fred, with emphasis. "I want to play football this year." "Will all the 'soreheads' be kept out of the eleven, even if they come to their senses?" Clara inquired. "Now, really, you'll have to ask me an easier one than that," replied Fred Ripley laughingly. "I had an idea that all of the fellows whose families are rather comfortably well off might be in the movement---or the strike or whatever you call it," Clara replied. "Oh, no; there's a lot of us who haven't gone in with the kickers---and glad we are of it," Fred replied. "Still, don't you believe in any importance attaching to the fact that one comes of one of the rather good old families?" asked Clara Deane thoughtfully. "Why, of course, it's something to be quietly proud of," Fred slowly assented. Then added, with a quick laugh: "But the events of the last two days show that one should keep his pride buttoned in behind his vest." As for the "soreheads" themselves, there weren't any more meetings. As soon as they actually began to realize how much amused contempt many of the Gridley, people felt for them, these young men began to feel rather disgusted with themselves. Across the street, and not far from the gymnasium building, was an apartment house in which two apartments were vacant. Being well acquainted with the agent, Bayliss borrowed the key to one of the apartments. Before half past two that afternoon, Bayliss and Dodge were in hiding, where they could look out through a movable shutter at the gymnasium building. "There go Prescott, Darrin and Reade," Bayliss soon reported. "Oh, of course; they'll answer the football call," sniffed Dodge. "It was over fellows just like them that the whole trouble started." "And there's Dalzell, Hazelton and Hanshew. Griffith is just behind them." "Yes; all muckers," nodded Dodge. "There's Coach Morton."