In the morning the wound, despite the fact that he had bathed it in arnica, appeared as bad as ever. But Oliver did not dare to ask permission to remain at home, and so set out for the academy in anything but a cheerful mood.
Gus Gregory met him at the gate with a long-drawn face; and small wonder.
Dr. Tangus had found them out. Gus had dropped his note-book in the hotbed and the gardener had picked it up. In a terrible rage, the doctor soon after called at the Gregory home, and forced a full confession from Gus. Mr. Gregory had promised to pay his full share of the damage done, and to bring his son to account, and the doctor left saying he would call on Oliver’s father later.
When Oliver entered the academy he was at once called aside by the doctor. But little was said; Dr. Tangus merely stating what he had discovered, and declaring his intention to settle the matter outside of the school.
This had happened Friday morning. It was now Saturday, and Oliver firmly believed that the hour of retribution had come. He took all the time possible to walk up the gravel path and through the broad hall, and hesitated several seconds before turning the handle of the library door.
When he entered the room he found his father seated at the desk, his forehead resting on his hand. Mr. Bright was a man well past the middle age of life, and somewhat broken down in health.
He was tall and slender, with brown hair and eyes. His manner as a general rule was gentle, and as Oliver gazed at his parent, his heart smote him for the trouble he had brought about.
“You sent for me, father,” he said, as he stopped by the door.
Mr. Bright started up from the revery into which he had fallen.