The Story of Sugar

by Sara Ware Bassett

"I must tell Tim about that," or "I must take that to Tim."

But with his enthronement as the sovereign of Tim's universe there came to Van a very disquieting experience. Tim thought his big friend knew everything, and in consequence whenever he became puzzled about facts that were being read to him or that he heard he would instantly appeal to Van, whom he was sure could right every sort of dilemma that might arise. But too often the unlucky Van was forced to blush and falter that he would have to look it up; and when he did so he frequently learned something himself. For Tim never forgot. No sooner would Van be inside the gate than the shrill little voice would pipe: "And did you find out how far away Mars is, Mr. Blake?"

Poor Van, it kept him scrambling to satisfy Tim McGrew's intellectual curiosity, yet there was a tang in the game that rendered it very interesting. He found, too, ample reward in seeing the wee invalid's face brighten when the query was answered.

So the spring sped on.

In the meantime Van had heard only irregularly from his parents. In a long letter to his father he had sent all the facts of his disgrace at school and had added that he was truly sorry; the reply he received had been terse and rather stern but not unkind. Mr. Blake expressed much regret for his son's conduct and closed his epistle with the caustic comment that he should look for a proof of Van's desire to make good. That was all. Van knew that Dr. Maitland had also written; but what he did not know was that with the fearlessness so characteristic of him Bob Carlton had taken the time and trouble to pen a long note to Colorado as a plea for his chum. It was a remarkable composition from a boy so young—a letter full of affection and earnestness and voicing a surprising insight into his friend's character and disposition. Mr. Blake read it over three times, and when he finished sat in a reverie with it still between his fingers. The tone of it was so like the man he had known long ago, that friend from whom a misunderstanding that now seemed pitiably trivial had separated him. It had been his fault; Mr. Blake could see that now. He had been both hasty and unjust. Over him surged a great wave of regret. Well, it was too late to mend the matter at this late day. One chance was, however, left him—to make up to the son for the injustice done the father.

It therefore came about that at the close of the school term Bob Carlton was overjoyed to receive from Van's parents an invitation to come west with their boy and pass the summer holidays. Such a miracle seemed too good to be a reality, and the lads' instant fear was that the Carltons would be unwilling to spare Bob from home for such a long time. To their surprise, however, Mr. Carlton welcomed the plan with enthusiasm. A trip to Colorado would be a wonderful opportunity, the educational value of which could scarcely be estimated, he argued. Underneath this most excellent reason there also existed on Mr. Carlton's part a desire to show his former partner that he cherished no ill will for the past. Who knew but the boy might even be a messenger of peace?

So one June morning, after bidding good-bye to Colversham and to Tim McGrew, the two lads set forth on their western journey. They were in high spirits. Both had passed the examinations with honors, and as Van thought of his achievement again and again he wondered if it could be true that he was one of that light-hearted band who were starting off on their summer vacation with no conditions to work off.

The solitary cloud on the horizon was the grief of little Tim at having his friend go. But Van promised there should be letters—lots of them—and post-cards, too, all along the route; the parting would not be for long anyway.

These were some of the thoughts that surged through Van's mind as he and Bob settled themselves into their places on the train and began the attempt to fathom the reams of directions Mr. Blake had sent them; pages and pages there were of what to do and what not to do on the long trip, the letter closing with the single sentence:

"I am trusting you to make this journey alone because I believe your chum, Bob Carlton, has a level head."