It was when she met Mr. Bayliss one Sunday in a walk along the river, and related to him the success of Tommy’s efforts, that he broached the project he had been developing.
“The boy must be given a chance,” he said. “I believe he could do a great work among these people—greater, surely, than I have been able to do.” And he sighed as he thought of his years of effort and of the empty seats which confronted him at every service. “See how he has helped you. Now he must help me.”
“But how?” she asked. And old Jabez Smith’s promise again recurred to her.
“I haven’t thought it out fully, but in outline it is something like this. We will teach him here all that we can teach. Then we’ll send him to the preparatory school at Lawrenceville for the final touches. Then he will enter Princeton, and—if his bent lies as I believe it does—the seminary. Think what he could do, coming back here equipped as such a course would equip him, and having, too, a perfect understanding of the peculiar people he is to work among! Why, I tell you, it would almost work a miracle from one end of this valley to the other.” And he paused to contemplate for a moment this golden-hued picture which his words had conjured up.
His companion caught the glow of his enthusiasm.
“It would,” she cried; “it would! But can he take such a polish? Is he strong enough? Is it not too late?”
“I believe he is strong enough. I believe it is not too late. The only trouble,” he added reflectively, “will be about the cost.”
“The cost?”
“Yes. There will be no question of that after he gets to Princeton, for I can easily get him a scholarship, and there are many ways in which a student can earn money enough to pay his other expenses. But at Lawrenceville it is different.”
Miss Andrews looked up at him with dancing eyes.