As for George Brayton and Bar, they at once got rid of the dust of travel, and scarcely were the several rooms of the Academy filled, after the noon recess, before Val Manning’s “chum” dropped quietly down into his accustomed seat beside him, while, at the same moment, the assistant-principal resumed the discharge of his own duties, for all the world as if he had not been gone ten minutes.
Dr. Dryer was in another room at the moment, and when he returned he started as if he had seen a ghost.
“Mr. Brayton?”
“Good-morning, Doctor. Back again, safe and sound, you see. Hope my absence has not occasioned any inconvenience.”
“The departure of even subordinate members of the faculty of this institution,” solemnly responded the principal, “can hardly fail to occasion approximate disturbances of its organization.”
“It’s all right,” muttered Zeb Fuller to himself, in his corner; “only he’ll choke himself with a big word yet, and then what’ll become of Dorothy?”
As for Brayton, he simply said:
“I’m sorry for that, of course, but it couldn’t be helped. Mr. Vernon returned with me.”
“With you?”
“Yes, with me. Had a very pleasant journey together. I met him in the city.”