“And you’re still set on going to boarding school?” asked Mrs. Matson, sighing gently as she looked at her son.
“I certainly am—if it can be managed,” replied Joe quickly.
Mr. Matson started so suddenly that the paper rattled loudly, and his wife asked:
“What’s the matter, John, did something in the news startle you?”
“Oh—no,” he said slowly. “I—I guess I’m a bit nervous. I’ve been working rather hard lately on an improvement in a corn reaper and binder. It doesn’t seem to come just right. I believe I’ll go to bed. I’m tired,” and with “good-nights” that were not as cheerful as usual he left the room. Mrs. Matson sighed but said nothing, and Joe wondered more than ever if any trouble was brewing. He hoped not. As for Clara she was again bent over her lessons.
The Silver Star nine was variously made up. A number of lads worked in different town industries, one even being employed in the harvester works where Mr. Matson was employed. Others attended school.
Joe Matson had attended the academy in the town of Bentville whence they moved to Riverside, and on arriving in the latter place had at once sought admission to the high school. He was given a brief examination, and placed in the junior class, though in some of the studies the pupils there were a little ahead of him, consequently he had to do some hard studying.
The ambition to attend a boarding school had been in Joe’s mind for a long while, and as his father was in moderate circumstances, and soon hoped to make considerable from his patents, Joe reasoned that his parents could then afford to send him.