“EZEKIEL MACK.”
Walter smiled as he finished reading the letter.
“I wonder what my good guardian would say,” he soliloquized, “if he knew that I had nearly a thousand dollars saved up? He would open his eyes, I fancy.”
He sat down at once and made a reply, in the course of which he said: “Don't trouble yourself to send me money. I can get along with the wages I receive. When I left home I made up my mind not to call upon you for help, and I am glad to say there is no occasion to do so as yet. I think my year's absence from college will do me good. I am ashamed when I consider how poorly I appreciated the advantages of study, and how foolishly I spent my time and money. If I ever go back to college I shall turn over a new leaf. I have seen something of the world and gained some experience of life, and feel about half a dozen years older than when I left college.”
When Doctor Mack, a week later, read these lines he smiled contentedly.
“My experiment is working well,” he said. “It is making a man of Walter. He has been a drone, hitherto. Now he has become a worker, and, though I may not like him better, for he was always near to my heart, I respect him more.”
A week later Walter, on returning from a walk, found a middle-aged stranger in conversation with Professor Robinson.
The professor seemed a little embarrassed when Walter entered.
“I have some news for you, Walter,” he said. “I am afraid it will not be welcome to you.”
“Please let me hear it, professor,” said Walter.