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“I see,” he murmured. “Now tell me something about yourself, my boy. Your father has died recently?”

“Yes, sir, in November.”

“I’m very sorry. I think now I recall reading of his death in the paper. He was the editor of the Enterprise, I believe?”

“Yes, sir. He owned the paper, too. That is, most of it.”

“Your mother is alive, I trust?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you have brothers and sisters?”

“No, sir; there’s only me.”

“I see. I rather expected your mother would call with you, Faulkner. It’s the customary thing. We rather like to meet the pupils’ parents and get in touch with them, so to speak. Possibly your mother, however, was not feeling well enough to accompany you this morning.”

“She isn’t here, sir. She’s in Columbus. You see, father didn’t leave much money and so she—she took a position in Columbus and sent me here to live with an aunt, a Miss Teele, on Brewer Street. Mother wants me to finish high school. I thought I’d ought to go to work, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Dear, dear!” said Mr. Dennison sympathetically. “Most unfortunate! Well, I think your mother is quite right, my boy. You’ll be better fitted to face the—er—the responsibilities of life if you have supplied yourself with an education. Hm! Yes. Now, let me see. I gather from what your former principal writes that you have been a very steady, hard-working student. You like to study and learn, Faulkner?”