“But that’s awful, ain’t it?” asked Bar.
“Yes,” replied Val, “it’s an awful fraud, unless one of the teachers has a grudge against you. Then it’s a fraud, too, only there’s good fun in it, ’specially if they’re at work on Zeb Fuller.”
The next day was destined to be an interesting one for Bar Vernon, however, for other reasons than the arrival of Sibyl Brayton and her mother.
The increasing numbers of the people of all sorts, scholars included, compelled a transfer of the “exercises” to the “great hall” on the second floor of the Academy building.
Bar rather liked that at first, but the stage from the South arrived before the bell had done ringing, and the next thing he knew there was an addition to the “distinguished guests,” as Mrs. Dryer would have described the highly respectable people on the “platform,” that not only deeply impressed “old Sol” himself, but sent all the blood in Bar’s body to his head.
How he and the rest got through with the “opening” business he could scarcely have told, but he knew there was something unusual coming for him or Val, when he saw Judge Danvers waiting for them.
“Very promising young gentlemen, your ward and the son of Dr. Manning,” he heard Dr. Dryer say, as they were edging their way through the crowd. “My assistant, Mr. Brayton, has them under his especial charge.”
They were very near now; but somebody else was nearer, and had caught the meaning of the principal’s last remark.
“Judge,” said Zebedee Fuller, gravely, as he held out his hand, “I’m proud to meet you, but are you responsible for sending Bar Vernon to Ogleport?”
For once in his life Judge Danvers found himself “on the witness-stand,” and all he could say on the spur of the moment was: