“I hope the business won’t be serious.”
“I hope not. Good-night.”
“Good-night, Gilbert.”
There was a small room about twelve feet square, which was known as Dr. Burton’s study. There was a desk beside the window, and book-shelves occupying the sides of the room. Hither it was that refractory or disobedient pupils were summoned, to receive admonition from the principal. In his early experience as teacher he had employed a sterner sort of discipline, but later he had substituted words for blows—very wisely, as I think.
Gilbert went at once to the doctor’s study.
Dr. Burton was a tall, spare man, with strongly marked features, and on the whole rather a stern face. He looked toward the door as Gilbert opened it.
“Good-evening, sir,” said Gilbert.
“You were absent from supper without notice or permission, Greyson,” the doctor began.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where were you?”