: For Yardley: A Story of Track and Field by Barbour Ralph Henry Relyea C M Charles M Illustrator - Boarding schools Juvenile fiction; Track and field athletes Juvenile fiction

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FACING PAGE

"The boy on the stone never moved" 112

"'You'll wish you hadn't been so smart,' he sneered" 220

"Alf squirmed onto one of the barrels and held the craft" 264

FOR YARDLEY

A RAINY SATURDAY

"Wonder why it always rains on Saturdays?" muttered Alf Loring, laying his book face-down in his lap and staring discontentedly out of the window beside him.

It was a cheerless outlook. Through the blurred panes his gaze traversed the Yard, empty and bedraggled, to the back of Merle Hall and the gymnasium. Everywhere was rotting snow or pools of water, while from a low, leaden sky the rain fell straight and persistently. It had been raining just this way all day and half of last night, and to all appearances it intended to continue raining in the same manner for another twenty-four hours. Yesterday the Yard had been a foot deep in nice clean snow, the result of the blizzard that had swept over Wissining and New England in general two days before, and there had been more than one jolly battle royal out there. But now--Alf sighed; and, turning, looked aggrievedly at his roommate.

Tom Dyer was seated at the study table, face in hands, the droplight shedding its yellow glow on his tousled hair, paying little heed to aught but the lesson he was striving to master. Alf scowled.

"Who invented rain, anyhow?" he demanded. There was no reply.

"Eh? What?" Tom looked up from his book, blinking.

"I asked who invented rain, you deaf old haddock."

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