“She wants Miss Garrett to take charge of the assembly and she said that’s all thank you good-by,” repeated Bobby glibly, just as the speaker had rattled it off to him over the telephone.

“All right,” agreed Mr. Carter.  “I might as well stay the day out here.  Let’s see, it’s about time for the assembly bell, isn’t it?”

Bobby had almost forgotten what he had come to the office for.  As Mr. Carter moved toward the bells, he recollected.

“I was going to ask Miss Wright,” he hurried to say.  “Could we—­do you think we could, have a snowball fight out in the yard after school?  With forts and everything?  We wouldn’t break any windows.”

“I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t have a snowball fight,” said Mr. Carter promptly.  “Remember about the windows and don’t aim at any of the girls, and you should have no trouble.”

“I guess the girls will be in it,” said Bobby sadly.  “My sister Meg wants to play, and I s’pose half the girls in school will want to come in.”

Mr. Carter laughed, but offered no advice or sympathy, as he pressed the signal for the assembly.  Girls, Bobby thought, joining the patient Meg in the hall, always managed to have their way; a fellow might as well give up to them from the first.

After assembly came lessons, and, finally, recess.

“Go out into the fresh air,” ordered Miss Mason, who taught the room Meg and Bobby were in.  “It isn’t cold out—­not too cold.  No, Frances, you can’t stay in and draw.”

Miss Mason believed in fresh air, and she usually drove her class out into the yard, no matter what the weather, telling them that exercise would keep them warm.  Those who tried to stay in the warm schoolroom were invariably disappointed, for Miss Mason opened every window as wide as it would go and let in the fresh cold air.

“Come on, Frances,” called Meg from the doorway.  “We’re going to play something new.”

Frances Smith followed Meg reluctantly, but when she heard about the snowball fight, she was immediately interested.

“Mr. Carter said we could,” announced Bobby to the boys.  “We must remember and aim away from the windows and not hit the girls.  Let’s begin to build the forts now.”

“We’ll have to have a general,” said Tim Roon quickly.  “I’ll be general of the Americans.”

“Huh,” retorted Bobby.  “What do you think the other side is going to be?  My men are Americans, too.”

“Who said you were a general?” jeered Tim.

“Well, he is,” replied Palmer Davis heatedly.  “Isn’t he, fellows?  I guess Bobby proposed this.  Come on, who wants to be on Bobby’s side?”

“I do,” cried Meg instantly.

“So do I,” said Frances Smith.

“Girls!” Tim Roon’s tone was one of deepest disgust.  “For goodness’ sake, who ever heard of girls being in a snowball fight?”

“Well, we’re going to be in this one,” Meg assured him with spirit.