Walter Sherwood's Probation by Jr. Horatio Alger (good romance books to read txt) 📕

Walter began to comprehend.

“Why, are you not going to be there?” he asked,

“Yes, but the house will be full of other fellows, don't you know.”

“So that there will be no room for me,” said Walter calmly, looking Warner full in the face.

“Awfully sorry, and all that sort of thing,” drawled Warner. “Besides, I suppose you will have to go to work.”

“Yes, I expect to go to work—after awhile. Probably I shall take a few weeks for rest. By the way, when did you find out that your home would be full—of other fellows?”

“Got a letter from my sister this morning. Besides—in your changed circumstances, don't you know, you might find it awkward to be living in a style you couldn't keep up.”

“Thank you, Warner. You are very considerate. I really didn't give you credit for so much consideration.”

“Don't mention it! Of course with your good sense you understand?”

“I think I do.”

“And, by the way, I believe you borrowed two dollars of me last week. If it is inconvenient for you to pay the whole at once, you might hand me a dollar.”

“And I called that fellow my friend!” said Walter to himself.

“You are very considerate again, but I think I would rather pay the whole at once. Can you change a ten?”

Harvey Warner looked surprised. He had jumped to the conclusion that Walter was the next thing to a pauper, and here he was better supplied with money than himself.

“I am not sure that I have as much money here,” he said.

“Then come with me to the drug-store; I am going to buy a bottle of tooth-wash, and will change the bill there.”

Warner accepted this proposal.

“I'd better make sure of my money while he has it,” he reflected.

“I hope you're not very much disappointed about the visit?” he said.

“Not at all! I should have had to decline. I have been invited to spend a month at the Adirondacks with Frank Clifford.”

“You don't mean it!” ejaculated Warner enviously.

Clifford was a member of an old family, and an invitation from him was felt to confer distinction. Warner himself would have given a good deal to be on sufficiently intimate terms to receive such a compliment.

“When did he invite you?” he asked suggestively.

Walter saw what was in his mind, and answered, with a smile:

“He invited me this morning.”

“Had he heard—”

“Of my loss of fortune? Oh, yes! But why should that make any difference?”

“I wouldn't go, if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“You are going to be a poor man.”

“I don't know about that.”

“You are poor now, at any rate.”

“Well, perhaps so, but am I any the worse for that?”

“I thought you would understand my meaning.”

“I do, but I am glad that all my friends don't attach the importance you do to the possession of fortune. Good morning!”

“I suppose it's the way of the world!” thought Walter, as his quondam friend left him. “But, thank Heaven, all are not mercenary! I've got a few friends left, anyhow.”

A few rods farther on he met Victor Creswell, perhaps the richest student in the junior class.

“What's this I hear, Walter?” he asked. “Have you lost your money?”

“Some of it, I believe.”

“And you are not coming back to college?”

“I shall stay out a year. Perhaps I can come back then.”

“You needn't leave at all. My governor allows me a hundred dollars a month for my own use—spending money, you know. I'll give you half of it, if that will enable you to pull through.”

Walter was touched.

“You are a friend worth having, Creswell,” he said. “But I really think I shall enjoy being out of college for a year. I shall find out what is in me. But I sha'n't forget your generous offer.”

“Better accept it, Sherwood. I can get along well enough on fifty dollars a month.”

“I won't accept it for myself, but I'll tell you something. My chum, Gates, is very hard pushed. You know he depends wholly on himself, and twenty-five dollars just at this time would be a godsend to him. He is worried about paying his bills. If, now, you would transfer a little at your generosity to him—”

“I don't know him very well, but if you speak well of him that is enough. I shall be glad to help him. Let me see how much I can spare.”

He drew out a wallet, and from it four ten dollar bills.

“Here are forty dollars,” he said. “Give them to him, but don't let him know where they came from.”

“Creswell, you're a trump!” said Walter, shaking his hand vigorously. “You don't know how happy you will make him.”

“Oh, that's all right. But I'm sorry you won't let me do something for you.”

“I will if I need it.”

“Good!” said Creswell, in a tone of satisfaction. “Now, mind, you don't hesitate.”

Walter, happy in the happiness he was going to confer, made his way quickly to his own room. Gates sat at the table with a troubled brow, writing some figures on a piece of paper.

“What are you about, Gates?” asked his chum.

“I have been thinking.” said Gates wearily, “that perhaps I ought to do what you have decided to do.”

“What's that?”

“Leave college.

“But why?”

“I am so troubled to pay my bills. I wrote to my uncle last week—he is a well-to-do farmer—asking him if he wouldn't send me fifteen dollars to help pay my term bills. I promised to come and help him in the farm work during July.”

“What does he say?” asked Walter, smiling, Gates couldn't understand why.