They were very near now; but somebody else was nearer, and had caught the meaning of the principal’s last remark. “Judge,” said Zebedee Fuller, gravely, as he held out his hand, “I’m proud to meet you, but are you responsible for sending Bar Vernon to Ogleport?” For once in his life Judge Danvers found himself “on the witness-stand,” and all he could say on the spur of the moment was: “Perhaps so. Why?” “Because it’s a very restricted sphere of usefulness for such a man.” And Zebedee marched solemnly on as if unconscious that the eyes of Doctor and Mrs. Dryer, as well as half the Board of Trustees, were following him with anything but a charitable look. “That,” said Effie to Sibyl, “is the genius of Ogleport.” Twenty minutes later, Judge Danvers and Bar were alone in the room of the latter at Mrs. Wood’s. The Judge did not seem disposed to explain very fully the cause of his coming, but shortly came to it in this form: “You brought that black valise with you?” “Of course I did!” said Bar. “Hardly safe here. It ought to be under lock and key.” “I’ve thought of that,” said Bar, “but I’ve no place to put it.” “Will you trust it to me?” “Certainly, and very glad to do so,” replied Bar. “It’s only a trouble to me. I can’t even open it, and sometimes I lie awake at nights, wondering what there may be in it.” “I’ve been almost up to that point myself,” said the Judge. “I want to say one thing more. I will keep your promise for you as to opening it, unless I can get you formally released from it. How is that?” “I’ve nothing to say,” replied Bar. “I never did break my word, and I never mean to. That’s all I care for.” “You’re pretty safe then,” said the Judge. “But tell me, who is this Mr. Brayton?” Bar gave him all the information in his power, but Judge Danver’s face seemed to grow more and more cloudily thoughtful all the while. “Nice people, all of them, no doubt,” he said, at last; “but they may or may not be good friends of yours. I won’t say any more just now, only this: If you get a telegram from me to come to the city, tell nobody but Val where you are going, or why, and just come right along. Have you money enough?” “Plenty!” said Bar. “Then I must be off. Take care of yourself, my boy, and give my compliments to that Zebedee Fuller. There’s the making of a man in him.” Judge Danvers probably meant “The making of a lawyer,” for that was his highest ideal of man--and perhaps he was not far wrong, considering the kind of lawyer he had made of himself. And so Bar was left to apologize as best he might to all inquirers for the sudden appearance and disappearance of his “distinguished counsel.” CHAPTER XXV MR. ASHBEL NORTON The evening after the “opening exercises” at the Academy, and after the sudden appearance in Ogleport of the great city lawyer, and his equally sudden departure, George Brayton was sitting for awhile with his mother and sister in their own room.