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Paul stopped to speak to the boys, and the principal checked his pace, as if waiting for the visitor to have his little talk with the others.

“Maybe I’ll be with you fellows,” Varley said. “Some things I want to brush up on. I’ve been going over the business with Mr. Curtis”—he glanced at the principal—“and he thinks he can fix it for me.”

“But we’re Juniors, and you’ll be a Senior,” Sam remarked.

“No; more of an unclassified special student. I’ve had a pretty ‘spotty’ preparation, you know; and it struck me it would be a good thing to look after some of the weak spots while I’m here. So I made up my mind to—— I beg your pardon, madam!”

Varley, as it chanced, was the only one of the group who was facing the entrance. This fact accounted for his sudden change of tone.

A woman had come into the hall. She was a comfortable, middle-aged, plump person, whose hat was a trifle awry, and whose manner indicated much earnestness.

None of the others had seen her come in, and none suspected her presence till Varley spoke. Then everybody turned quickly.