“It certainly will,” replied Zeb, “unless we can set the Ogleport people to thinking about something else. Even then it’ll be hard to make Dorothy let up on George. At all events, we mustn’t allow him to suffer.” “He won’t,” said Val. “She can’t do him a bit of hurt.” “Still,” said Zeb, “I do wish we had Bar Vernon with us. The man that invented that bell business must be up to other things.” “Indeed he is,” said Val; “but don’t you be afraid. He’ll turn up here again some fine morning.” “Sure of that?” exclaimed Zeb. “Then there’s hope for the future of Ogleport yet. There comes old Sol.” That was a dismal day for the principal, however, and his several male and female subordinates had the “teaching” pretty much in their own hands, such as they were. “Effie,” said Sibyl Brayton to her friend, as they met on the green, a little before the close of school, “can you keep a secret?” “Perfectly,” said Effie. “Is it anything comical?” “It isn’t comical at all,” said Sibyl. “We’ve just had a telegram from my brother George. He and Bar Vernon will be here to-morrow.” “He’s caught him?” said Effie, hastily. “Why, Effie!” exclaimed Sibyl, “Bar didn’t go after George.” “But didn’t George--I mean Mr. Brayton,” said the blushing Effie, “go after Bar?” “No,” said Sibyl, “and it’s all a puzzle to me. I don’t understand a bit of it.” No more did Euphemia, but there were sharp eyes prepared to watch for the early stage from the South next day. They were duly rewarded, too, and George Brayton had plenty of time to tell his mother and sister the news, so that the latter could carry it over to Dr. Dryer’s for Effie’s benefit as soon as she had a good chance that afternoon. 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.” “Mr. Brayton, may I see you after school? This matter seems to need looking into.”