“There comes the stage!”
At the word, four or five boys came leaping down the flight of steps and joined the lad watching at the gate, as the old coach crept slowly up the hill. The powerful, iron-gray horses, tired out with their long climb, plodded onward, quite unconscious of the eager faces above them. Suddenly a smooth brown head was popped out of the stage window, followed by an arm that waved vigorously in answer to the ringing cheer which greeted the owner’s coming.
“Hurrah, there’s Hal!”
The stage turned in under the arching gateway, and the horses, quickening their pace as they reached their journey’s end, toiled up the gravel driveway leading to the steps. Before they had fairly stopped, out jumped a boy of sixteen, dressed in a gray uniform, resplendent with brass buttons. He was immediately seized and surrounded by his schoolmates, all talking at once.
“Glad to see you back, old boy!”
“So late I was afraid you had cut Flemming Hall for good!”
“Why didn’t you wait till Christmas, and done with it?”
“Where’ve you been all summer?”
“Lots of new fellows here and our new teacher; you just ought to see him!”
Without deigning to reply to the shower of questions, as soon as he had shaken hands all round, the new-comer turned back to the stage and said,—