When he reached the door, his own face was aflame. He knew all the boys of the Lower School were looking at him. Mr. Carrin, too, seemed to be staring at Bobby in a strange way.
Barry put his arm across the smaller boy's shoulder just as soon as the classroom door closed behind them.
"Buck up, old man!" he said, with a funny choke in his voice. "Things are never so hard as they seem at first. And there's such a lot of uncertainty about such reports—"
"What reports, sir?" asked Bobby, breathlessly.
"Didn't Carrin tell you a thing?" gasped Barry, stopping short.
"No! What have I done? What's Doctor Raymond going to do with me?"
"Why, you poor little kid!" ejaculated the big boy, grabbing Bobby tightly again. "You mustn't be afraid of the Old Doc. He wouldn't hurt a fly. And you're not in bad with him—don't think it!"
"But what is the matter, then?" demanded Bobby.
"It's your folks, Bob," blurted out Barry. "There's uncertain news about them—"
"They're not sick—not dead?" cried Bobby, shaking all over.