“So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch out and be sure he doesn’t swipe the grandstand too!” “Well, you _are_ rabid!” laughed Gordon. “Still, I don’t know that I blame you. I never knew that about your father, Dickums.” “Well, don’t repeat it, please. It’s all done with now, and there’s no use talking about it. I don’t—very often. Only sometimes—— Well, I get sort of hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan Brent has and how awfully hard we have to scrabble to get along. Good-bye, Mr. Captain.” “Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I’m not captain, though.” “You will be,” laughed Dick. “You always are, you know!” CHAPTER III A RICH MAN’S SON Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent at home when, shortly after nine o’clock the next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone path to the front door of Brentwood. But the maid who responded to his ring assured him that Master Morris was in, and led the way to the gray-and-gold reception room. He decided to take no chances with the spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs, and took refuge in front of the mantel, from which place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn’t have to wait long, however, for he had only just reached the conclusion that the room was pretty but uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the hall and a boy a year older than he appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did they put you in here for? This room gives me the creeps, doesn’t it you? Come on out on the piazza.” Gordon followed his host across the hall, through a warm-toned, luxurious but decidedly comfortable library and out of a French door onto a wide porch that was screened and curtained. There were many bright rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables with blossoming plants and books and magazines on them. From the porch one looked across a carefully kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped hedge bordered Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the block on which his estate was located, but some eight or nine adjoining blocks besides, his property running from his back line across Troutman, Lafayette, Main, and Common Streets to the river, including, two blocks north, the plot of land which for many years the High School had used as an athletic field. Mr. Brent had laid out the section himself and had named the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris and Louise.