The centre of his thinking was that slender young woman and the words she had uttered. He repeated her prophetic words as nearly as he could a hundred times. He repeated them aloud as he plowed day after day, through the dreamful September mist. He began to look ahead and wonder what he should do or could do. Must he be a farmer's hired man or a renter all his life? His mind moved slowly from point to point, but it never returned to its old dumb patience. His mind, like his body, had unknown latent forces. He was one of those natures whose delicacy and strength are alike hidden. "Brad don't know his strength," Councill was accustomed to say. "If he should ever get mad enough to fight, the other feller'd better go a-visitin'." And a person who knew his mind might have said, "If Bradley makes up his mind to do a thing he'll do it." But no one knew his mind. He did not know its resources himself. His mind seized upon every hint, and bit by bit his resolution was formed. Milton, going by one Monday morning on his way to the seminary, stopped beside the fence where Brad was plowing and waited for him to come up. He had a real interest in Bradley. "Hello, Brad," he called cheerily. "Hello, Milt." "How's business?" "Oh, so so. Pretty cold." The wind was blowing cold and cuttingly from the north-west. Milton, rosy with his walk, dropped down beside the hedge of weeds in the sun and Brad climbed over the fence and joined him. It was warm and cosy there, and the crickets were cheeping feebly in the russet grass where the sunlight fell. The wind whistled through the weeds with a wild, mournful sound. Bradley did not speak for some time. He listened to Milton. At last he said abruptly-- "Say, Milt, what does it cost to go to school down there?" "Depends on who goes. Cost me 'bout forty dollars a term. Shep an' I room it and cook our own grub." "What's the tuition?" "Eight dollars a term." "Feller could go to the public school for nauthin', couldn't he?" "Yes, and that'd be all it 'ud be worth," said Milton with fine scorn at an inferior institution. "What does a room cost?" Brad pursued after a silence. "Well, ours cost 'bout three dollars a month, but we have two rooms. You could get one for fifty cents a week." He looked up at Brad with a laugh in his eyes. "Don't think of starting in right off, do you?" "Well, I don't know but I might if I had money enough to carry me through." "What y' think o' doin', study law?" "No, but I'd kind o' like to be able to speak in public. Seems t' me a feller ought 'o know how to speak at a school meetin' when he's called on. I couldn't say three words to save m' soul. They teach that down there, don't they?" "Yes, we have Friday exercises and then there are two debating clubs. They're boss for practice. That's where I put in most o' my time. I'm goin' into politics," he ended with a note of exalted purpose as if going into politics were really something fine. "Are you?"