“A mere eye-servant,” she assured the Doctor. “That young man seems to consider himself entirely independent of your control. To think of his going away in that manner, without your permission!” Dreadful, no doubt, but then Mrs. Dryer would have given half her teeth, much as they cost, if she had known who was waiting for him, and what it was he hurried home to talk about. “My son, Mr. George Brayton--Mr. Ashbel Norton, George.” The two men stood for a moment looking at each other, and then the Englishman remarked: “Happy to meet you, Mr. Brayton. I’ve already said nearly all I have to say, but we can go over it again, if you wish.” “I should like it, indeed,” said George; “and it seems to concern us both, if I understand it.” And then followed an hour of very earnest talk ending with Brayton’s saying: “You seem to have done all that the circumstances required. If he is not found, it will not be your fault. Of course, you were careful in your selection of counsel?” “Yes, indeed,” replied Norton. “My bankers recommended me to a Judge Danvers, who seems to stand very high----” “Danvers?” exclaimed George. “Why, he was here yesterday.” “Here? Judge Danvers? Now, do you know that seems very odd indeed! How very singular! And to think I missed him so narrowly. But, then, I suppose such a man has a good deal of business on his hands besides our own. I’m going on to meet him in a day or two. Indeed, he told me to be gone a week, but I find I can’t stand it. No fun at all, you know, with so much at stake.” “I should say not,” replied George, but he found himself looking straight into the eyes of his pretty sister. Could it be that her quick and somewhat romantic young brain had caught a glimpse of the same thought which was slowly dawning upon his own? Whether or not, neither of them said a word about it then to each other, or even after Mr. Ashbel Norton had retired to his own room; and the stage carried him away next morning with no other apparent result of his visit to Ogleport than a conviction that Sibyl Brayton was the very prettiest girl that he had ever seen in America, and a determination that he would return at once to the city and “see what that old fox of a lawyer was up to.” The day of his departure was a Friday, and when the Academy doors were closed they were not to be opened again till Monday, for Dr. Dryer had not yet perfected his usual plans for robbing the boys of the morning half of their weekly holiday. That would be sure to come, in due time, but as yet the entire day was free. Bar and Val had been getting up a plan of their own, and it carried them, at their very best pace, out to Puff Evans’s the moment that school was out. A long, fast, hot walk to be sure, but they found Puff delighted to see them and to show them what really marvelous progress he had made upon his new boat.