It's the best farm in the
valley, but, you see, he hasn't the time and he's growing old--"
"Why not take a course at an agricultural college?"
Wherry colored.
"I haven't the money, Carl," he acknowledged honestly. "Most of Dad's
savings went to see me through college. I've a little--"
"Would a thousand a year see you through, with what you've got?" asked
Carl quietly.
But Wherry did not answer. He had walked away to the window, shaking.
Presently he turned back to the table, but his face was white and his
eyes dark with agony. Dropping into a chair he buried his face in his
hands, unnerved at the end of his fight by Carl's offer.
Wisely the man by the fire let him fight it out by himself and for an
interval there was no sound in the quiet room save the crackle of the
log and the great choking breaths of the boy by the table, whose head
had fallen forward on his outstretched arms.
Carl threw his cigar into the fire and rose.
"Brace up, Dick!" he said at length. "We've been touching the high
spots up here and you were strung to a tension that had to break." He
crossed to Wherry and laid his hand heavily on the boy's heaving
shoulder. "Now, Dick, I want you to listen to me. I'm going to see
you through an agricultural college and you're not going to tell me I
can't afford it.
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