Barnaby’s mind had been at work all night on what he meant to say that morning, and it never occurred to him as strange that those two elderly men should get so excited with curiosity as they now clearly were. He had struggled so long with the important question “what should he do with himself,” that he felt he must ask somebody, and surely two such men as these ought to be able to tell him. His next words were, therefore: “Well, then, if you’ll keep my secret for me, I’ll begin at the beginning--it isn’t long.” Not long. Only the outline story of such a life as he remembered, with Major Montague and old Prosper, in every part of the country, and in all sorts of curious and often doubtful undertakings. Then his own growing conviction that he had been born for something better, his final rebellion and his setting out for himself. “But that black valise!” exclaimed the judge. “What did you find in that? You say you remember some sort of home and family when you were very young. Did you find anything about it?” “I haven’t opened it yet,” said Bar. “You know, I said to you, I promised Major Montague I wouldn’t open it for a year and a day. I must keep my word, even if he was ever so drunk when I gave it to him. If he’d been sober I’d never have known anything about it.” “Keep your word! What do you think of that, Doctor?” “Think?” exclaimed the doctor, brushing his benevolent old eyes with his hand. “You see, too,” continued Bar, “it was that gang found your wallet in your pocket, and I stole it from Prosper in the crowd.” A few words more explained Bar’s operations more fully, but he absolutely refused to have anything to do with the “prosecution” the judge began to talk of. “He’s right,” said the doctor. “He’d have to give testimony that would harm him wrongfully----” “I see,” began the judge; “but----” Bar interrupted him with: “And now, gentlemen, the whole of it is just this. I’ve got a new name, I want a new life, and you must advise me how to get into it. That’ll be worth more to me than any one thousand dollars’ reward.” “But to think of such a boy seeing it in that light,” exclaimed the judge. “Judge,” said the Doctor, “you seem to be all at sea. This looks like a case for me to treat. In a year from now he can open his valise, for I think he must keep his promise to his rascally uncle, and then we can’t guess what he may learn. Meantime he must go to school.” “School!” exclaimed Bar. “How am I to manage that? My money’s half-gone already. I must find a way of earning some more.” “I’ll take care of that,” began the judge, with sudden energy; but the doctor interposed: