"I hope so, Frank. I think she is the best friend I have in the world."
"And of course she insists on your going to this evening school."
"Not at all," replied Walter; "she leaves me quite free to decide for myself, after she has given me her opinion on the subject. Mother says I am a rational being, and able to judge between right and wrong."
"And, pray, what is her opinion?"
"Very much the same, only in different words, as what our rector told us in church last Sunday, at the end of his sermon, when he spoke about the evening school; but you were not there, Frank, were you?"
"No," replied Frank. "Well, and what did he say?"
"He spoke of the great value of learning, and said that any knowledge we could gain now would be like so much capital to trade with when we got older. He said, too, that an ignorant man was like one who lived in a dark and gloomy house into which the bright sun never shone; and he called getting knowledge like opening a window in the dark house. He told us also that a young man who can read well, write a good hand, keep accounts, and who knows something about the country in which he lives, is sure to rise in the world—always providing that he is steady and industrious. There was a great deal more, which I cannot remember; but it seemed to me that it all meant pretty nearly the same thing; and I had made up my mind before ever I left the church."
Frank gave a derisive laugh.
"I wonder what writing and accounts have to do with planing smoothly, or driving a nail well home."
Frank and Walter were both learning the trade of a carpenter, and worked together at the same bench.