The doctor was a man of fifty-five, with a high forehead and an intellectual face. He wore glasses, and had done so for ten years. They gave him the appearance of a learned scholar, as he was. "Dear me!" he said. "How unfortunate! Only two weeks to the end of the term, and you are our _primus_!" "I am very sorry, sir; but perhaps I may be able to come back." "Do so, by all means, if you can. There is hardly a pupil I could not better spare." "Thank you, sir," said Andy gratefully. "There is a train at three o'clock. I would like to take it." "By all means. And let me hear from you, even if you can't come back." "I will certainly write, doctor. Thank you for all your kindness." Penhurst Academy was an endowed school. On account of the endowments, the annual rate to boarding scholars was very reasonable--only three hundred dollars, including everything. The academy had a fine reputation, which it owed in large part to the high character and gifts of Dr. Crabb, who had been the principal for twenty-five years. He had connected himself with the school soon after he left Dartmouth, and had been identified with it for the greater part of his active life. Andy had been a pupil for over two years, and was an excellent Latin and Greek scholar. In a few months he would be ready for college. Dr. Crabb was anxious to have him go to Dartmouth, his own _alma mater_, being convinced that he would do him credit and make a brilliant record for scholarship. Indeed, it was settled that he would go, his parents being ready to be guided by the doctor's advice. From Penhurst to Arden, where Andy's parents lived, was fifty miles. Starting at three o'clock, the train reached Arden station at five. As Andy stepped on the platform he saw Roland Hunter, the son of a neighbor. "How are you, Andy?" said Roland, with a cheerful greeting. "How do you happen to be coming home? Is it vacation?" "No; I was summoned home by a telegram. Is--are they all well at home?" "Yes, so far as I know." Andy breathed a sigh of relief. "I am glad of that," he said. "I was afraid some one in the family might be sick." "I don't think so. I would have heard, living so near." "Father is well, then?" "Come to think of it, I heard he had a bad headache." "At any rate, it isn't anything serious. Are you going home? If you are, I'll walk along with you." "We can do better than that; I've got uncle's buggy on the other side of the depot. I'll take you, bag and baggage." "Thank you, Roland. My bag is rather heavy, and as it is a mile to the house, I shall be glad to accept your offer." "Bundle in, then," said Roland, merrily. "I don't know but I ought to charge you a quarter. That's the regular fare by stage." "All right! charge it if you like," rejoined Andy, smiling. "Are your folks all well?" "Oh, yes, especially Lily. You and she are great friends, I believe." "Oh, yes," answered Andy, with a smile. "She thinks a good deal more of you than she does of me."