But Ephraim either could not or would not, and presently Lucius took his departure in high dudgeon.
Ephraim sat thinking to himself for a long while, and finally he took down a volume from his shelves and buried himself in it, until the voice of the old woman in the next room disturbed him by querulously demanding ‘Ef he warn’t never goin’ to bed.’
‘I b’lieve I could do it,’ he thought to himself as he undressed; ‘but’—— He pulled a trunk from under his bed, and unlocking it, drew out a small cash-box. This in turn he opened and studied the little pile of dollars it contained with an anxious face.
‘Thet’s the only way ter do it,’ he muttered, passing the coins backwards and forwards through his fingers. ‘Thar’s not much more than enough thar, if thar is enough. Imagine! Only that little lot in five long years. Seems a pity, jest fer a whim. But it’s fer Luce. It’s ter pleasure Luce. He’s that sot on it, and he nat’ally looks ter me. No matter, I guess I’ll work it up again.’
He stood looking into the box with eyes that did not see, for he was far away in spirit in the little Massachusetts town, where stood the famous college he so ardently desired to enter.
Splash! A great tear fell into the box of dollars.
‘What ye doin’?’ Ephraim apostrophised himself with great vehemence. ‘Ain’t it fer Luce? Ain’t he wuth it? Ef ye can’t do a little thing like that fer yer friend, it’s time ye’——
He broke off suddenly, snapped the lid of the box, and threw it back into the trunk.
‘Ef ye can’t do a little thing like that without makin’ a fuss about it,’ he repeated, ‘it’s time ye—it’s time ye’——
He choked over the words, a rain of tears gushed from his eyes, and with a low cry he flung himself sobbing upon his bed.