“But how are you going?” he asked.
“Couldn’t I walk? It isn’t far.”
“No, indeed. Johnston, of course, is less than two miles away, but Mr. Andrews lives four or five miles northeast, and Smith is as far in the other direction. You’ll have twelve or fourteen miles to travel by the time you get back home. There is too much snow for you to walk, anyway, even if it wasn’t too far. And I can’t trust you to drive the team alone as cold as it is.”
“I can ride old Selim. He’s safe enough.”
“Yes, he’s safe enough. But you will find it pretty cold, riding so far on horseback.”
“You’d better let your father take you in the buggy,” said Mrs. Kenyon. “You’ll freeze to death on Selim.”
“Now, mamma, please!” begged Hilda, and her mother said no more.
Hilda had many ambitions, but the nearest and most absorbing one was to get a school. Beyond that lay a college course, and beyond that—she hardly dare to think of all the good things the future might hold for her and hers if only she might go to college.
But she knew that the money for a college course must come from her own efforts.
She had been a very proud girl when her first certificate came. It was only for a year, of course. According to the laws of the state, one must have taught three months to receive a certificate for a longer time than that. But her grades were high enough to entitle her to a second class.