At supper-time his father and his brother Charlie came in from the cornfields together. "Hope you'll bring us rain," said Mr. Young. "We need it." Charlie was brown and big, and he gave Will's hand a hearty grip and said, "Glad to see you back, Will, blamed if I ain't."
Charlie never had ambitions for higher education. "Lucky Charlie!" thought Will, remembering how he used to look down on him.
"They must make you study a lot, though!" Charlie added, looking at Will's face.
Mr. Young disappeared for a few minutes into the next room; when he returned he interrupted the conversation with, "By the way, mother, Will says he don't think he'll go back there to school any more."
Mrs. Young did not want the matter discussed just now, for she saw a pained look come over Will's face at the mention of it. "Whatever he does," she said, in her bright, quick manner, "he must get well and strong and happy again. Cheer up, Will, cheer up, look happy—my goodness! just see his face," she went on laughing. "Don't you know you're home, anyway, boy?"
Yes, he was home, anyway. But what a way it was; not very much like the proud homecoming he had pictured long ago.
Mr. Young did not like to be switched off the subject. He went on, in a queer tone: "Yes, I thought you'd come around to my way of thinking. I thought you'd get tired of putting yourself through college, as you called it. I ain't surprised, not a bit."
Will did not feel piqued or indignant. He only asked himself how much longer he would wait before telling them all that he, William Young, son of his father, member of the church, and the boy who had his tuition remitted in consequence of a "high moral character," was a gambler and a thief, and was liable to be exposed as such at any moment. Even now at this hour somebody there in the East might be making inquiries as to his whereabouts.
This load was becoming more than he could bear. Why not tell them all, right then and there, and have it over with? "Listen, father," said Will, his voice breaking a little. "You little understand the meaning of my actions. Listen, everybody. I have something important to say."
"Shissh, Will, keep quiet, you're nervous," interrupted his mother. "Father, don't let the poor boy try to talk. He's sick. He's all wrought up; look at him."