A day or two after the return of Philip’s father, a great clumsy farm wagon came lumbering up the avenue of Dr. Gradus’s seminary; driving it, was a rough-looking man, and beside him sat a bright-faced boy,—the same man and boy who made their appearance, when Philip’s father returned from his journey.
The man got down and rang a tremendous peal upon the bell. The servant thought the President of the United States had arrived, and flew to answer it.
“Does Dr. Great Dust live here?” asked the man.
“How dare you come and tear the house down at this rate?” cried the angry servant, seeing that it was not “grand company.” “What do you want, you old bear?”
The old bear, being good-natured, burst out laughing. “Don’t spoil your pretty face,” he said, “by getting it into a twist. When I give a pull, I always give a strong one; and you must a been greasing of your bell, for it came out like a shot. Hum! Now s’pose you tell me if Dr. Great Dust lives here. I should think he did, by the one you’ve kicked up about nothing.”
“Well, he does, and what of it?”
“Only I want to see him, and here’s a letter,” holding it out.
The woman took the letter and showed the farmer and his boy into a small room, while she went up-stairs to the doctor’s study.
There he sat, to be sure, a grave, learned man, with spectacles perched on his nose, a great frown in his forehead, rather dirty wristbands, a pen behind his ear, and ever so many papers before him, written as full as they could hold of Latin and Greek themes, which the larger boys in the school had sent in for examination. Of course there was no end of mistakes in most of them; and as to Philip’s copy, it was just one hodge-podge of farrago and nonsense.
“Oh, that hopeless booby of a boy!” the doctor was exclaiming to himself, as he took up this last paper, when there came a knock at the door.