“You said your name was Boland, didn’t you? Well, mine’s Brent. Hope we’ll get on all right. Now you’d better fix up a bit and I’ll take you over to see Horace. You’re supposed to report to him as soon as you come.”
“Horace?” repeated John wonderingly.
“Yes, the principal. His name’s Horace, you know.”
“I thought—” began John.
“He will ask you a lot of questions and tell you to be good, you know,” continued Ned with a grin. “Don’t be saucy to him, Boland.”
“I don’t cal’late to,” replied John, reflecting the grin. “I’ll wash up and brush my hair. It was pretty hot walking up here.”
“Why didn’t you take a chariot? Weren’t there any?”
“You mean a carriage? Thought I’d rather save my quarter.”
“You must be an economical duffer,” said Ned with a frown. “I wouldn’t do too much of that sort of thing or fellows will think you’re a tight-wad. And, say, [got any other togs in that gripsack of yours?]”