“Yes,” replied her mother, “your father is suited to his new work and likes it. And Larry will be finishing his college this year, I think. And he has earned it too,” continued the mother. “When I think of all he has done and how generously he has turned his salary into the family fund, and how often he has been disappointed—” Here her voice trembled a little.
Nora dropped quickly to her knees, taking her mother in her arms. “Don't we all know, Mother, what he has done? Shall I ever forget those first two awful years, the winter mornings when he had to get up before daylight to get the house warm, and that awful school. Every day he had to face it, rain, sleet, or forty below. How often I have watched him in the school, always so white and tired. But he never gave up. He just would not give up. And when those big boys were unruly—I could have killed those boys—he would always keep his temper and joke and jolly them into good order. And all the time I knew how terribly his head was aching. What are you sniffling about, Kate?”
“I think it was splendid, just splendid, Nora,” cried Kathleen, swiftly wiping away her tears. “But I can't help crying, it was all so terrible. He never thought of himself, and year after year he gave up his money—”
“Hello!” cried a voice at the door. “Who gave up his money and to whom and is there any more around?” His eye glanced around the group. “What's up, people? Mummie, are these girls behaving badly? Let me catch them at it!” The youth stood smiling down upon them. His years in the West had done much for him. He was still slight, but though his face was pale and his body thin, his movements suggested muscular strength and sound health. He had not grown handsome. His features were irregular, mouth wide, cheek bones prominent, ears large; yet withal there was a singular attractiveness about his appearance and manner. His eyes were good; grey-blue, humorous, straight-looking eyes they were, deep set under overhanging brows, and with a whimsical humour ever lingering about them; over the eyes a fore-head, broad, suggesting intellect, and set off by heavy, waving, dark hair.
“Who gave his money? I insist upon knowing. No reply, eh? I have evidently come upon a deep and deadly plot. Mother?—no use asking you. Kathleen, out with it.”
“You gave your money,” burst forth Nora in a kind of passion as she flew at him, “and everything else. But now that's all over. You are going to finish your college course this year, that's what.”
“Oh, that's it, eh? I knew there was some women's scheme afloat. Well, children,” said the youth, waving his hand over them in paternal benediction, “since this thing is up we might as well settle it 'right here and n-a-o-w,' as our American friend, Mr. Ralph Waldo Farwell, would say, and a decent sort he is too. I have thought this all out. Why should not a man gifted with a truly great brain replete with grey matter (again in the style of the aforesaid Farwell) do the thinking for his wimmin folk? Why not? Hence the problem is already solved. The result is hereby submitted, not for discussion but for acceptance, for acceptance you understand, to-wit and namely, as Dad's J. P. law books have it: I shall continue the school another year.”
“You shan't,” shouted Nora, seizing him by the arm and shaking him with all the strength of her vigorous young body.
“Larry, dear!” said his mother.
“Oh, Larry!” exclaimed Kathleen.