“Steeple enough,” said Ford.  “Are the rest churches?”

“Yes; and, if you don’t go to church reg’lar, Old By’ll be sure to hear of it.”

“Old By” was the irreverent nickname they had selected for Dr. Abiram Brandegee; and Fuz added,—­

“Never mind him, boys.  He’s a raspy old fellow; but he’s such a little, old, withered wisp of a chap, you’ll soon get used to him.”

Dab was bewildered enough, just then, to wonder how such a weak-minded, malicious old dwarf as had been painted to him, could have managed to get and keep so high a position in so remarkably beautiful a place as Grantley.  He said something about the village being so pretty; but Dick Lee had been staring eagerly in all directions, and replied with,—­

“Jes’ one little mite of a patch ob water!  Is dar any fish to ketch?”

“Fish?  In that pond?” said Fuz.  “Why, it’s alive with ’em.  The people of Grantley just live on fish.”

“Guess I knows ’bout how many dey is now,” said Dick soberly; and he was not far from right, for there were no fish to speak of in that willow-bordered mill-pond.

“Mrs. Myers will hardly be up so early as this,” said Dab.  “We can get our trunks over by and by.  Let’s have a look at the village.  Joe, it’s your turn to steer now.  You and Fuz know how the land lies.”

They were ready enough to tell all they knew, and a good deal more; but the listeners they had that morning were not without eyes of their own, and it was not a very fatiguing task to walk all over the village of Grantley.

The first house to be studied with special care was the neat white residence of Dr. Brandegee, with its shady trees and its garden; for Joe said,—­

“That’s where you fellows’ll have to come right after breakfast, to be examined.  Oh, but won’t Old By put you through!”

Dick Lee’s mouth came open as he stared at the knob on the doctor’s front door, and Dabney caught himself doubting if he knew the multiplication-table.  Even Ford Foster wondered if there was really any thing he could teach Dr. Brandegee, and remarked to Frank Harley,—­

“I s’pose you’re about the only man among us that he can’t corner.”

“How’s that?”

“Why, if he’s too hard on you, you can answer him in Hindustanee.  He’s never been a heathen in all his life:  you’d have him”—­

“Shuah!” chuckled Dick.

The “green” was large and well-kept, and looked like the best kind of a ball-ground; but there was nothing wonderful about the academy building, except that it evidently had in it room enough for a great many boys.

“You’ll see enough of it before you get through,” said Fuz.  “But there’ll have to be lots of whittling done this fall.”

“Whittling? what for?”

“Why, don’t you see?  They’ve gone and painted the old thing all over new.  Every boy cut his name somewhere before we left last term.  They’re all painted over now:  maybe they’re puttied up level.  They did that once before, and we had to cut ’em all out again.”