“Likely you ought. But where do you expect to get the seventy dollars you need for this year, son? If you’re counting on me—!” Mr. Tucker shook his head. “I might be able to help you a little: say twenty-five or thirty; but seventy’s too much for me.”
“If you’ll let me have twenty-five I’ll get hold of the rest somewhere, sir. You see I don’t have to pay it all now. I can pay it in three lots if I like, fifty dollars now, fifty dollars in January and twenty-five in April. Arnold doesn’t seem to think there’d be much chance of earning a little at school, but you—you read about fellows doing it.”
“I guess you read a lot in stories that ain’t just so,” replied his father, dryly. “Well, all right, son. It’s your money. If you want to spend it this way I’m willing. I hope you’ll get enough learning to come out even, though. If I was you I’d make up my mind to get my money’s worth, I think. Money ain’t so easy come by these days!”
“Hooray!” shouted Arnold. “That’s fine, Mr. Tucker! Toby, you sit down there this minute and write your application!”
“What application?” asked Toby.
“Why, you’ve got to apply for admission, of course! And the sooner you do it the better chance you’ll have. For all we know the enrollment may be already filled for this fall.”
“Oh!” said Toby blankly. “I didn’t know that. I thought all I had to do was just—just go! Suppose they’ve got all they want! Wouldn’t that be the dickens? Here, where’s the pen and ink, sis? Why didn’t you tell me about this application business, Arn? I’d have done it two months ago!”
“Goodness me,” sighed Mrs. Tucker, “I do hope you ain’t too late, Toby! That would be an awful disappointment, now, wouldn’t it? You don’t think he is, do you, Arnold?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t think so. Lots of fellows have joined school just before it has opened. But I guess it’ll be safer to write now.”