"Then
we'll see who looks more like a clown---you or I."
But now there was time, and Dick Prescott and his fellows had
to tell scores of eager inquirers how they came by their new uniforms,
when they had not expected to have any.
"Just what I thought, or as bad, anyway," muttered Martin when
the news was brought to him. "These muckers couldn't buy their
uniforms, as our fellows did. They had to depend upon charity
to make a good appearance on the field."
"Hold on, there, Martin," angrily objected one of the Central
fans. "I suppose it was charity, too, when you gave our fellows
the game, eh? It was mighty kind of you, too."
"Huh!" retorted Hi. "This is only one game lost, and by a hair's
breadth. Wait until the end of the season, and see who carries
the laurels."
"Prescott, what do these letters mean on your jersey?" asked Ted
Teall, halting and squinting at the golden yellow emblems.
"C.G.?" smiled Dick. "That's for Central Grammar, of course.
But the letters have been put on so that they can be easily changed
around to read G.C."
"What'll that stand for?" quizzed Teall, winking at some of the
other fellows.
"Why, we'll change the letters around after we've played this
series, and then the letters will stand for Grammar Champions.
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