"It's wuff a good deal to feed a boy like me." His mother had told him so, many a time; and in that matter "Glorianna" had not been so far from the truth.
Ham Morris had indeed made a careful and particular bargain for Dick, and that his duties about the house should not interfere with his studies.

He had done more; for he had insisted on buying Dick's text-books for him, and had made him promise to write to him about the way things went at Grantley.
Up the street marched the four new boys, still a little slowly, until Ford broke out into a sudden word of encouragement,-- "Look here, boys, we're a set of wooden-heads! I'd like to know if we need be afraid of any thing Joe and Fuz Hart could go through ?" "Well, I guess not," replied Dab.

"Let's push ahead." He found himself leading the procession when it went through Dr.
Brandegee's front gate; and there was a look of admiration on Dick's face, when he saw how promptly and courageously "Captain Dab Kinzer" pulled that door-bell.
"This way, please," said the servant who opened the door,--"into the library.

The doctor'll see you in a minute." "And we'll see him," muttered Ford, as they walked in, and he added in a whisper to Dick,-- "That's his portrait.

There, over the mantel." "Jes' so," said Dick, coming dangerously near smiling; "an' his name den was Oliver Cromwell, an' dey dressed him up in sheet iron." That was the name printed under the engraving; but the smile had barely time to fade from Dick's face, before a door opened on the opposite side of the room, and the dreaded Principal of Grantley Academy walked in.
"Good-morning, my young friends.