He was much too busy to see men or places. One fortnight was given to the diligent study of Algebra; two other little fortnights to Latin; and then his father came and took him home, sooner than he expected. But he had "entered his plough."
Yet it was hard to leave it there just entered; and the ride home was rather a thoughtful one. Little his father knew what he had been about. He thought his son had been "getting a little schooling;" he had no notion he had begun to fit himself for College!
Just as they reached the river, at a little hamlet under the hill at the foot of the north bay, where the road branched off to skirt the face of the tableland towards the home promontory, the wagon was stopped by Mr. Underhill. He came forward and unceremoniously rested both arms upon the tire of the fore wheel.
"Mornin'. Where' you been?"
"A little way back. 'Been to Asphodel, to fetch my son
Winthrop home."
"Asphodel? — that's a good way back, ain't it?"
"Well, a dozen miles or so," said Mr. Landholm laughing.
"Has he been to the 'cademy too?"
"Yes — for a little while back, he has."
"What are you going to make of your sons, neighbour Landholm?"