There were tears in Mrs. Taylor’s eyes as she said, softly:
“Oh, Tom, I almost wish you hadn’t passed!”
He looked at her blankly.
“That is, I don’t want to lose you,” she went on. “But if you have your heart set on it, I suppose it is all for the best. You can’t remain my little boy forever.”
Tom felt a lump coming up into his throat, but his mother, seeing which way matters were going smiled as she said:
“There, Tom! we mustn’t be sad when there’s so much cause for rejoicing. Of course you must go away. All boys do, sooner or later. And if you went to college you’d have to leave me.”
“This is better than any college!” cried Tom, enthusiastically. “West Point beats them all, in my estimation. Why, just think of it, they pay you for learning there! I’ll get real money—that is after a while. I’ll send you some,” he announced. “But say, Mother, now that I have passed so far, and there is a chance of my going to the Academy, what about that hundred dollars deposit? Can we raise it?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll manage somehow. Now let me see your letter. Is that all Mr. Hutton says, that you have passed?”
“I haven’t read it all myself, yet. That’s as far as I got. Hello, what’s this?” he exclaimed as his eyes took in the remainder of the epistle. “Hawkesbury named as alternate! Well, I suppose that’s only fair, but I’d rather it would have been some one else.”
“What’s that?” asked Mrs. Taylor.