“Here we are,” said The Fungus as he held the gate open and they passed through under a canopy of lilac branches. “Pull down your vests and wipe off your chins, kids, and look respectful.”
They crossed the garden and ascended the short flight of stone steps. Under the gabled porch Ned pressed the button and waited. Presently a maid admitted them and they filed into the Inquisitory, as the Doctor’s library was termed. They found four boys ahead of them. When they had been there a few minutes a door into a rear room was opened and a short, elderly man with kindly face and near-sighted eyes that twinkled humorously behind spectacles appeared.
“Now, then, who’s next, please?” he asked.
A stout boy and a thin boy arose and stood viewing each other doubtfully.
“Well, which is it?” asked the principal.
“We both came in together, sir,” answered the stout youth.
“So? Well, there’s more of you, my boy, and so I’ll see you first. This way, please.”
John’s turn came presently and he found himself shaking hands with Doctor Webster and being conducted across the threshold of a little sun-filled room that was dazzlingly bright after the darkened library. The door was closed and the Doctor pointed to a chair at the side of his desk.
“Sit down, please. Now then, what’s your name, sir?”
“John Boland, sir.”