Considering that Dr. Johnston was really a small, slight man, it was surprising what an idea of stately dignity his appearance conveyed. He could hardly have impressed Bert with a deeper feeling of respect from the outset, if he had been seven feet high, instead of only a little more than five. He was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, and wore at all times a long black gown, reaching nearly to his ankles, which set off to the best advantage the spare, straight figure, and strong dark face. The habitual expression of that face when in repose was of thoughtful severity, and yet if one did but scan it closely enough, the stern mouth was seen to have a downward turn at its corners that hinted at a vein of humour lying hid somewhere. The hint was well-sustained, for underneath all his sternness and severity the doctor concealed a playful humour, that at times came to the surface, and gratefully relieved his ordinary grimness.
As he walked down from his desk to meet Mr. Lloyd, he looked very pleasant indeed; and Bert felt his nervousness a little calmed as, holding out his thin, white and yet muscular hand, Dr. Johnston said, cordially:
"Good-morning, Mr. Lloyd. I presume these are the two boys you spoke to me about."
"They are, Dr. Johnston," Mr. Lloyd replied. "I brought them in good time so that they might learn as much as possible about the ways of the school the first day."
"You did well, Mr. Lloyd. It is important to have a good beginning in everything that is worth doing," said the doctor; then, turning to Bert, he slipped his hand under his chin, and lifting his head so that he might look him full in the face, added, with a smile, "I need hardly ask which of these boys is yours, for this one betrays his paternity in every feature."
"You have hit the mark, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, smiling in his turn. "This is my son Cuthbert, at your service, and this is Frank Bowser, his inseparable companion."
"Quite a case of Damon and Pythias, eh?" said the doctor, whose devotion to the classics was such that his one great regret was that he had not lived in the time of Horace.
"Yes, something of the kind," rejoined Mr. Lloyd; "and I would be very glad if you could manage to let them sit together so long as they behave themselves."
"We'll see, we'll see," was the doctor's non-committal response.
"Very well, then, doctor," said Mr. Lloyd, turning to leave. "I'll hand them over to you now. I am sure you will make the best of them, and that I am leaving them in very good hands. Good-bye, boys." And then, bending down, he whispered in Bert's ear, "Remember—quit you like men—be strong," and then left them.