Peter had no difficulty in guessing the source of this generosity.
Nor was this all. Nat scrawled him an incoherent note that bubbled with delight; he had been promoted to the finishing department, and henceforth was to receive a much larger salary!
That night Peter went home a very happy boy. It seemed as if there was not room for any more good things to be packed into a single day; but when at evening a crate came marked with his name, and on investigation it proved to contain the long-coveted motorcycle, Peter’s joy knew no bounds.
“Do you suppose now that your chum Strong could let Peter Coddington return to school?” was his father’s unexpected question.
Peter stopped short.
It was a long time before he spoke; then he said slowly:
“Father, I don’t think there is a Peter Coddington any more. There’s only Peter Strong, and he is so interested in his work and in doing real things that you couldn’t coax him to go to school if you tried—especially since he has just been given a new motorcycle!”
Mr. Coddington rubbed his hands together as he always did when he was pleased.
“You must not decide hastily, Peter,” urged he. “Take a week to think carefully about it and then tell me your decision.”
“But I know now!” cried Peter. “A little while ago I thought the tannery the most awful place in the world; I hated the smell of it and the very sight of the leather. But somehow I do not feel that way now. I did not realize this until you spoke the other day of my leaving and going back to school; then I was surprised to discover that, when I thought it all over, I did not want to go back. Work can be fun—even hard work—if all the time you know that you are doing something real—something that is needed and that helps. If you don’t mind, Father, I’d rather stay in the tannery and aid Peter Strong to work up.”