Page 66 - The Adventures of a Freshman

"Now, mother, keep still," interrupted Mr. Young, "I have something to say." He dropped his eyes as though
ashamed. He had taken out of his pocket a slip of paper. There was some printing on it and some blank places
filled in with writing. He cleared his throat in the way he was accustomed to do when he got up in
prayer-meeting. "You had to have the money. It was a necessity. You worked hard for it, but you missed it.
And I thought, seeing you missed the prize there at school, I would show my appreciation of your efforts there
at school, that--now, Will, take this and stop looking at me in that way. You done your best. Now you won't
have to change your plans. I hate to see people change their plans."

His father had put the slip of paper in his hand. Will looked at it. It was a check drawn on the Farmers'
National Bank. It said, "Pay to the order of William Young Two Hundred Dollars ($200)." What did it all
mean?

It meant that the obstinate will of good old Farmer Young, that could not be budged by the arguments of the
minister or bent by the coaxing of his wife, had finally been melted away by his own full heart at seeing this
poor sick boy of his, who bore the marks of having struggled so pluckily and so discouragingly to earn for
himself what his father had refused to grant. Also it meant that Will Young could lift his head once more, a
free man.

"Why, where are you going, Will?" asked his mother. He had got up from the table.

"I'm not hungry," he said, in a strange voice; "I'm going up to my room. I'll be down soon." Then as he opened
the door he said, without turning around: "I don't deserve this, father. I can't tell you just now how little I
deserve it, but I'm going to take it." The door closed.

"What on earth's the matter with the boy?" said Mrs. Young, sighing. "I suppose it's because he takes losing
that prize so to heart. He's too conscientious. Don't deserve it!--nonsense!"

When Will came down he looked better.

"Did Charlie say he was going to drive to town," he asked.

"Yes," said his mother. "But you don't want— "

"No, but I've got some letters here I'd like to go East the first thing in the morning." And the next morning
they were going East as fast as the United States mail-cars could carry them.

One of them was to the Princeton Bank, and it contained the check for $200, and an apology for overdrawing
his account the month previous, which was "not likely to happen again," he said.

The other contained checks also, drawn on that very bank for various amounts to the order of Carey H. Lee
and the rest, whose home addresses he had looked up in the college catalogue.

And then he had the first calm full night's sleep in over a month and came down to breakfast singing "The
Orange and the Black," and all the family thought it a "real pretty song," and did not know that Will sang it to
a tune of his own.

He felt like a new man. Perhaps he was.

"Father," said Mrs. Young, "look at Will; he's better already. I knew my cooking and a little home comfort
would do worlds for him. And I guess," she added, in Mr. Young's ear, "you cheered him up more by giving
him that money, father."