“Tell you what, Jack, it’s a great thing to organize a school like this, and get everything in working order, all in six weeks.”

“Do you think you are organized, Pep?” queried Jack Ruddy, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m organized about as much as I’ll ever be,” returned Pepper Ditmore. “You can’t expect a fellow like me to settle down and be as quiet as a lamb, can you?”

“No, you’re more like a jumping-jack. The fellows don’t call you the Imp for nothing.”

“It’s a base slander,” returned Pepper Ditmore, with an injured air. “I’m as meek, sometimes——”

“When you are asleep.”

“As a—a——”

“Circus clown. By the way, have they found out yet who mixed the salt and sugar last Saturday?”

“Can’t say as they have.”

“And who put that little bulldog in Josiah Crabtree’s bedroom in the dark?”

“They haven’t asked me about it,” and now Pepper Ditmore began to grin.

“Then let me congratulate you on your escape,” and Jack Ruddy smiled broadly.

“Let’s change the subject, Jack. Don’t you want to be an officer of the Putnam Hall Cadet Corps? I should think that would just suit you. Your father was an army officer.”

“It would suit me first-rate. But the fellows don’t know much about me. Most of them are strangers to me.”

“Well, they are mostly strangers to each other. If you want to become an officer, say the word and I’ll do the electioneering for you.”

“Don’t you want to be an officer yourself?”

At this question Pepper Ditmore gave a merry laugh.

“I’d make a fine-looking officer, wouldn’t I?” he returned. “No, I’ll remain a high private in the rear rank—and take my sport in some other way.”

“And you expect me to be an officer over you, Pep? How in the world will I manage you?”

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