College freshmen -- Juvenile fiction; College stories; Male friendship -- Juvenile fiction
“Sheddon hasn’t any first-year scholarships, Donnie. You know that as
well as I do.”
“Maybe it hasn’t had; but it’s got one now――just――er――founded. One of
the fellows――er――knew of it so he nailed it for you.”
“Donnie, you’re lying to me; you know good and well you are,” protested
the sick one. “You’re meaning to put up for me yourself――out of money
that you told me yourself was borrowed money. Isn’t that the truth?”
Larry managed to force a sort of donkey-bray laugh.
“Much obliged for the compliment, Purdy, but I’m not so generous as all
that amounts to. I told you it wasn’t charity, and it isn’t. It’s a
sure-enough scholarship, and it runs for four years. After that, if you
make a go of your profession, you’re to pass it on to some other fellow
that needs it. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?”
Purdick turned his face to the wall and for a long minute there was
silence in the freezing little room. When he spoke again there was
something more than the grippy hoarseness in his voice.
“I――I can’t take it in, Donnie,” he stammered brokenly. “I’m a perfect
fool about this engineering course. I’ve wanted it ever since I knew
what engineering was――wanted it so bad that I could taste it. The――the
home doctor said I could never stand it to work my way through, and I
guess maybe he was right. And now――” again he turned his face to the
wall, and because it is a shame for one fellow to see another one cry,
Larry jumped up and went to shiver at the rattling window.
When he thought he had given Purdick time enough to sort of get a grip
on himself, he went on to the business part of his errand.
“Think you’re not too sick to stand the trip over to the house if I get
a flivver and wrap you up good?”
By this time the little fellow was able to grin again.
“If it’s any colder out doors than it is up here, it must be going
some,” he replied.
“It’s a rough night, just like it listens,” said Larry, “but we’ll make
it, all right.” After which he groped his way out and down the two
pairs of stairs and went to look for an auto cab.
That proved to be some hunt. There wasn’t a vehicle of any kind in
sight on the college-suburb side of the river, and he had to go
creeping and slipping over the bridge and into the town proper before
he could find one. He discovered one at last, and had a wrangle with
the driver because the man said he didn’t need tire chains and Larry
insisted that he did; kept on insisting until the hackman grumblingly
consented to put them on――with Larry to help.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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