Tom said nothing to his mother about the attack, accounting for some scratches and bruises by saying he had had a little mishap while boating. And as Mrs. Taylor was so busy getting Tom’s things ready for his trip to the military academy she did not ask many questions.
“Oh, but that’s an unsightly bruise on your face,” she said. “I hope it will disappear before you go to West Point.”
“I think it will,” Tom said. “And I’ll take good care not to get any more there,” he mused.
Tom saw nothing of Clarence during the next few days, in which he was busy getting ready for his trip up the Hudson. He also spent as much time as he could working on his studies. But in spite of all his hard work, he felt a horrible fear at times that he would fail to reach the standard set in the mental tests.
Finally he reached the point where he was in such a nervous state that one of the high school teachers who was coaching him advised him to drop his books for a day or two, and live in the open. This Tom did and his strained nerves came back to normal again.
Mrs. Taylor had raised the hundred dollars that Tom must deposit to be allowed to take the examination. If he failed it would be returned to him, less a small charge for board during his stay at West Point. Just how much his mother had sacrificed to raise this sum Tom never knew.
“But I do wish you had more money to live on, Mother,” he said a few days before he was to depart for West Point. “You ought to be rich.”
“Riches do not always bring happiness, Tom,” she said.
“They often help a whole lot,” Tom said, with a smile. “But never mind, Mother, some day when I’m an army officer, or a big engineer, I shall be able to send you money regularly. Then you won’t have to sew when you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I like sewing,” said the widow. “I wouldn’t sit around and do nothing. I couldn’t!”