Practice was light that Monday afternoon, for many of the boys had suffered slight bruises or muscle-strains in the Corwin game and all were more or less languid as a result of the continued warm weather, while, to make easy work more advisable, the light drizzle which had been falling since early morning had made the field slippery. Several of the Varsity players were excused altogether, among them Tom Haley, who had stood a good deal of punishment, and Lanny White, who showed unmistakable signs of a disposition to go “fine.” Everyone moved slowly, sluggishly to-day, and the jump that Chester Cottrell usually managed to put into the team was noticeably lacking. Morris Brent tried a few field-goals and did so well that it was difficult to believe that he had twice failed on Saturday. After practice was over, and it ended long before dusk to-day, Morris waited for Dick and Gordon, who emerged together from the dressing-room under the stand, and walked with them across to where the blue runabout, its top glistening with rain, stood in the lee of the fence. “That stuff’s come,” he announced. “The fellow at the freight office called me up after school. I was afraid it wasn’t going to get here in time.” “Are you going to move it to-night?” asked Dick. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about. Mr. Grayson’s birthday is Wednesday and we’ve got to get the things in his office to-morrow evening. So it doesn’t seem to me much use to move it twice. What do you think? Why not have Stuart load it on a team to-morrow afternoon before the freight shed closes and pull it to his stable and then bring it around to the school later, say about nine? The dickens of it is that we’ll have to wait until that old meeting is over, I suppose. We don’t want the whole school messing around while we’re moving it in and getting the wrappings off. I wish they’d selected some other evening for their silly meeting.” “Yes, but you can wait until the fellows go home. I don’t see any reason for moving it twice, either, Morris. Your scheme looks all right. Don’t you think so, Gordie?” “Yes. You’ll want help to get the stuff unpacked, I suppose.” “I don’t believe so. Louise and Nell are coming around, and Owen, the janitor, will be there to help. I can manage all right. Unless,” he added, “you want to have a hand in it.” “I wouldn’t be much use, I guess,” replied Dick. “I won’t come unless I’m needed. By the way, I’ve got some money for you at home. I’ve collected all but about three dollars.” “Me, too,” said Gordon. “Only I’ve got more than three to get yet. Some of the younger fellows hate like anything to give up their money. Get in, Dick, and I’ll turn her over.” “Coming along, Morris?” asked Dick, climbing in and laying his crutches in the improvised rack on the running-board. “You can sit on the floor if you don’t mind.” “Get in the seat,” said Gordon. “I’ll squat. All set?”