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“Yes,” said Mr. Dennison after a moment’s silence, “yes, I think the junior class is where you belong. At least, we’ll try you there. I don’t want to set you back unless it’s quite necessary. You may have to work hard for a month or so to catch up, but I think you can do it. How old are you, Faulkner?”

“Sixteen, sir, on the fourth of last August.” Other questions were asked and answered and the answers were entered on a filing card. Then:

“Can you start in tomorrow?” asked the principal.

“Yes, sir, I’d like to.”

“Very well. Then in the morning report in Room D to Mr. Whalen. School takes in at eight-thirty. Here is a list of books and materials you’ll need, many of which you doubtless have already. Any books or stationery you need can be obtained at the outer office. Books may be purchased outright or rented, as you please. That’s all, I think. I hope you’ll like us here, Faulkner. You must get acquainted with the other boys, you know, and then you’ll feel more at home. Come and see me in a day or two and tell me how you are getting on. And if there’s anything you want to know or if there’s any help you need don’t hesitate to apply to Mr. Jonson, my assistant, or to me.” Mr. Dennison shook hands again and Joe, armed with the printed list of books and materials, expressed his thanks and passed out into the corridor. A gong had sounded a moment before and the stairways and halls were thronged with students. No one, however, paid any attention to Joe and he left the big building and walked across the town to Main Street and turned southward, his eyes busy as he went.