for you, Andy!" said Arthur Bacon, as he entered the room of
Andy Grant in Penhurst Academy.

"A telegram!" repeated Andy, in vague alarm, for the word suggested
something urgent--probably bad news of some kind.

He tore open the envelope and read the few words of the message:

"Come home at once. Something has happened.

"MOTHER."

"What can it be?" thought Andy, perplexed. "At any rate, mother is well,
for she sent the telegram."

"What is it?" asked Arthur.

"I don't know. You can read the telegram for yourself."

"Must you go home?" asked Arthur, in a tone of regret.

"Yes. When is there a train?"

"At three this afternoon."

"I will take it. I must go and see Dr. Crabb."

"But won't you come back again?"

"I don't know. I am all in the dark. I think something must have
happened to my father."

Dr. Crabb was at his desk in his library--it was Saturday afternoon, and
school was not in session--when Andy knocked at the door.

"Come in!" said the doctor, in a deep voice.

Andy opened the door and entered. Dr. Crabb smiled, for Andy was his
favorite pupil.

"Come in, Grant!" he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Give me permission to go home. I have just had a telegram. I will show
it to you."

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