THE "BIG, GREEN FRESHMAN FROM SQUEEDUNK"
There were very important reasons why this particular Freshman had made
up his mind to do well at college. He had done very well at the High
School out at home, and it was one of the best in all Illinois. But that
was not the reason, nor had he graduated first in his class, indeed; one
of the girls did, as usual, though, to be sure, Young had done outside
studying with the minister and that was a handicap. He had a different
sort of reason for wanting to do well, now he was here at last.
He could recall, as vividly as though it were yesterday, how his father
looked the time he said: "And I tell you now, once and forever, I ain't
going to spend my hard-earned money making a dude of any son of mine;
and that's all I have to say about it. On the first of next month you're
going to get to work in the bank; and you ought to be glad of it. Few
farmers' sons have such chances."
Young remembered how sarcastic seemed his father's answer to the
question, "Won't you just lend me the money, father? I'll pay it back
with interest, in time?"
"Lend you money!--where's your collateral, hey?" and Mr. Young laughed.
"Then that is your final decision, father?"
"Final as I can make. If you go to college you pay your _own_ way.
Good-night. I guess that settles it."
Until this offer of the place in the bank came, just after Will's
graduation from the High School, his father had only said, "What's the
sense of going to college? You can't make any more money by it." And
Will had quietly gone on with his Greek lessons, not doubting that his
father would give his consent in the end. But now it was: "This is too
good a chance to miss, Will--why, you'll soon make a rich man of
yourself. Of course, you must take it. What's the use of having your
father a director of the Farmers' National Bank, any way? You'll soon
get over your fool notions. Charlie hasn't any fool notions about
'higher education.' He's my right-hand man on the farm." And the farm
was one of the most prosperous in the county.
Will knew his father and said nothing more, and on July 1st took the
place in the bank and began to work at $5 a week. But he did not get
over his fool notions.
You see, ever since Young could remember, he had dreamed and planned
about going to college, and what is more he had put in a great many
hours of good, solid study with the minister during the past years
preparing himself for it, and in consequence it was often 'way after the
dark by the time he had driven out home and had finished his "chores."
And he did not propose to let all that work count for nothing. He had
made up his mind to get a university education.
It was out of the question now to study all summer and enter the next
fall, but the minister told him he was still young; he could enter the
following year.
* * * * *
"Your boy Will's catching on quicker than Henry Johnson or any of the
young men that ever worked under me yet." That's what the cashier said
to Mr. Young.
"That means he's getting over his fool notions," thought Mr. Young.
Really it meant that he still had them. Will never mentioned the word
college to his father again; and to those of his old friends who said,
"Oh, so you aren't going East after all: why's that?" he merely replied
in effect that that was _his_ business, and bent over the ledger again.
He knew that most of the town was talking and laughing about him because
from the time he first announced (with a somewhat superior air, perhaps)
what he intended to do after leaving the High School, more than one of
them thought, and said, that it was a queer idea for Will Young to go to
college when he did not want to be a preacher or a professional man; not
so very many boys went to college from that part of the country.
But Will did not worry about that very much. He did not have time. He
was working every day in the bank from eight o'clock in the morning
until five or six in the evening--until nine or ten at night, sometimes,
on the first of the month--and was besides doing all the chores for Miss
Wilkins, with whom he boarded. And that was not all the work he did,
either. Those who passed by Miss Wilkins's house late at night generally
noticed a light in the little third-story window long after all the
other boarders' rooms were dark. And the nights he was not studying in
his room he was reciting at the minister's.
It is no easy thing to save money on $5 a week, and pay board and buy
clothes and incidentals out of it besides. That was the reason he did
the chores for Miss Wilkins. He got his board for that, and he earned
it.
Out of the first month's salary Will saved $10. Fifty per cent of
earnings saved is not a bad proportion. Out of the second month's
earnings he saved $25.
That may sound impossible, but you see they had raised his salary to $10
a week as they promised to do as soon as he had made himself worth it.
Besides, Mr. Young was a director.
It was very slow and sometimes it seemed very discouraging, and he did
not know how he could have succeeded if it had not been for the Sunday
afternoon talks with his mother, who was with him from the start in the
project; and for the minister, who used to say, "You seem to think a
fellow must be a millionaire to go to college."
The minister had a frank, friendly unstilted manner of talking, that
made some of the older people shake their heads and think him
unclerical.
"Why, there are hundreds of fellows," the minister said, "paying their
own way through every year, and if you can't do it I'm mistaken in you.
That is one reason," the minister explained, "though not the most
important one, why I advised you to go to a large college. There are so
many more ways of earning money. There are more eating-clubs to be
managed (and all the manager has to do is collect a tableful of
congenial fellows and then he gets his own board free). There are more
men that want tutoring at a large institution, and the price of tutoring
is better, too--(a man in my class in the seminary used to get $3 an
hour); and there are more newspapers to correspond for and shoe-stores
and steam-laundries and railroads to act as agents for--why, there are
any number of ways to earn money if you only look out for them. And, as
I told you before, the college authorities will remit your tuition if
you show that it is necessary and if," said the minister, smiling, "if
you can give testimonials of high moral character. All you have to do
this year is to make enough to get started on, and that's what you are
rapidly doing."
* * * * *
One day after Will Young had been working in the bank for nearly a year
his father burst into the kitchen. "Mother," he shouted to his wife,
almost excitedly, "what do you think? Will is going to resign from the
bank! I just now heard it in town."
"Yes," said Mrs. Young, gently, "I know."
"What does he mean by it! He has had his salary raised twice inside of a
year. He'll be made assistant cashier soon. Why, the boy's a fool. Does
he expect to get a better place up in Chicago?"
"No," said Mrs. Young. "He only went to Chicago on his vacation to take
his examinations for college and----"
"For college! Chicago!"
"And to buy his clothes--yes, they hold the examinations all over the
country." Then she went on, "You remember, father, you said Will could
go if he earned his own money, and now----"
"When did I say that?" thundered Mr. Young; and then the storm broke. It
was rather severe while it lasted, but it did not last as long as she
had feared it would. Mr. Young was just, and he had to acknowledge,
inwardly, that Will was right from his standpoint, though it was a sore
disappointment: and he saw no reason why Will should be forgiven.
"We'll see how long you stay there," was what Mr. Young said in bidding
Will good-by. He knew about how much his son had been able to save.
"All right, sir," said Will, feeling sorry his father would not give his
approval even now. "Good-by, sir." And he glanced at his mother once
more and then looked away again, and the train pulled out. A moment
later he had a last, distant view of the straight white farmhouse, as
the cars dashed by, and of the big red barn with white trimmings, and
the wind-brake of tall, straight poplars, to the north, in even row,
planted by his father's own hand before Will was born; he saw their tops
waving in the breeze as they were cut off from view--and all that seemed
years and years ago, though, in reality, it was only Monday, the day
before yesterday, and here he was at last, actually at college and
sitting in chapel listening to the President's kind words of welcome;
and feeling somewhat important at being one of those particularly
addressed by such a famous and learned man and feeling very proud at the
thought that he was part of such an ancient and mighty seat of
learning--and hoping that the small account he had opened at the
Princeton Bank was going to tide him over till an opportunity for
earning money turned up.
As he and his many classmates trooped forth into the sunny outdoors
again some orange-and-black-bedecked Sophomores on the steps murmured,
"right, left, right, left," in time to their footsteps, and then Will
Young did not feel so proud and important.
But this big, green Freshman did not take off his hat to them as some of
his classmates did. In fact his hat did not come off until the evening
of the following day--and then not quite in the way you might expect.