“Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, mother,” said Dick. “I’ll bring our school-books over, and Cecil and I can put in a couple of hours every morning, so we won’t fall so very far behind. Tom Chester’s got a tutor,” he added, with some irrelevance, “who’s coaching him for the June exams. He comes over from Fanwood every morning.”
“What college is he going to, Dick?” I asked.
“Oh, to Princeton,” said Dick, as though there wasn’t any other.
I knew that it was to Princeton Dick had dreamed of going. He had never confided that dream to anyone but me. And a bold project leaped into my head, which I determined to carry out that very day.
“Well,” said mother, “you’ll never get to college, or anywhere else, if you don’t study, no matter how lucky you are in other ways. So it’s agreed that you and Cecil will put in two hours at your books every morning.”
“Yes, mother,” promised Dick; “that’s agreed.”
“Then I’ll make out a list of what we need,” mother added.
“Will to-morrow do to go after them?” asked Dick, with a note of anxiety in his voice, “because to-day Tom and I were going to—to—”
“Oh, yes; to-morrow will do very well,” said mother, as he stopped in some confusion.
“What is it you’re going to do, Dick?” I questioned, putting my pride in my pocket.