“Well,” I said, “I sha’n’t be sorry even if I don’t get a chance at the school for a while, you know. If I could only get something to do near there, my chance might come later. I shouldn’t be any worse off than I am here. I can earn my living at something, don’t you think so?”
“Why, yes, I do; but I think you will have a chance at the school without having to wait.”
“Oh, I can hardly believe that,” I exclaimed for sheer joy.
“But you can make all your plans for it, just the same,” said my friend with confidence.
This new outlook set every strong emotion shouting in me. The world was not dressed in so gray a garb as I had thought. I went home and told my aunt about my new plan. She said:
“You’ve never asked me if you could go!”
“Well, no,” I said, “I haven’t; and I don’t think I need to. I mean to set out for myself, at any rate. It’s about time now that I was doing something for myself, don’t you think so?”
“I think you’re an impudent puppy, that’s what!” indignantly cried my aunt.
I told Pat and Harry, and they could hardly believe their own ears; but they urged me to take the chance, for they thought it was a “chance.”
My work—all work in the mill—had suddenly taken on a temporary aspect now, a means to a great end and not an end in itself. I could look on it now and feel that I had mastered it at last. The throbbing, jubilant shout of the victor was on my lips now. I saw past those lint-laden rooms, the creaking, whirling pulleys, and the clacking belts; past them, and everything that the mill meant to me; to a very pleasant new life ahead; one whose ground was holy and on which it was the privilege of but few to walk. I think there must have been a complete effacement of all the lines that had marked my face. For once, I felt sure of myself; sure that all the lines of leading were to mass into one sure road toward a better thing.