At this the twinkle in the shrewd left eye spread to the right eye, as well, and then expanded into a smile.
“You haven’t been home yet, so I suppose you haven’t heard the news. Yesterday your father was promoted—put in charge of the Brewster round-house as foreman—and I think his pay will enable him to get along for a time without your help. He is anxious to have you go with Dick, and so am I. Shall we consider it settled?”
Larry covered his face with his hands, and for a long minute he was afraid he was going to make a spectacle of himself, right there in front of the general manager;—you know how it is when a fellow has been wanting some wholly impossible thing so hard that he can taste it, and then has it shoved at him, bing! with no chance to brace.
This college course was a thing that Larry would have been willing to work his fingers to the bone to compass; and there hadn’t been even the ghost of a possibility of compassing it. Finally, the big lump in his throat got small enough to let him stammer out, “I—I don’t deserve it, Mr. Maxwell; honestly, I don’t.”
“I think you do,” was the even-toned reply. “I sent you out with Dick three months ago and told you you should have your chance. You took it and made good. You’ll find it that way all through life, Larry, my boy; the chances will be waiting for you all along the road, and all you’ll be asked to do will be to make good.
“Now run home and tell your folks. I know they’ll be glad to hear that you’re to have another Donovan Chance. Good-by and good luck to you. Dick will tell you what you’ll need for your college outfit.”
And then, out of the kindness of his heart for a young fellow who was much too full for utterance: “Run along, now; I’m busy.”
Transcriber’s Notes:
Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the illustration may not match the page number in the List of Illustrations.