He watched the beautiful girl’s every movement, he eagerly drank in every word that she uttered, and was as proud of her as he could be, yet all the time miserably conscious of his own deficiency. That evening he shut himself within his own room and fought a terrible battle out with his pride and wretchedness. “I am nineteen years old, and she is seventeen,” he said, bitterly. “I am two years behind her, and I should be two years in advance—there are four years of my life lost; no, not lost, either,” he added, with sudden energy, “for I will make them up, I will gain them. Can I do six years work in four? Harder work, too, than I have ever done before? Yes, I will!” He sat down to his table and began to look over his books, making calculations as to how much ground he could get over in a given time, while every few moments he would consult some catalogues that lay beside him. The next morning he walked down to the Fulton Ferry with Mr. Huntress, and on the way he remarked, with more than his accustomed gravity: “Uncle August, Gladys is going to Vassar next year, isn’t she?” “Yes; she is ambitious to take an advanced course, and there is no reason why she should not do so, if she desires.” “Will you allow me to continue my studies during the summer with Mr. Rivers, and enter some institute in the fall where I can advance more rapidly?” Mr. Huntress turned and looked searchingly into the young man’s flushed face, as he asked this question. He was a tall, manly fellow of nineteen, strong and stalwart of frame, his fine, massive head crowned with waving hair a few shades darker than it was when we first saw him; his eyes full of fire and intelligence, his whole face glowing with strength of character, and a certain something which gave one an idea of great reserve power, and it was no wonder that the countenance of Mr. Huntress lighted with a look of pride, as he realized that, under God, he had been instrumental in giving to the world this noble specimen of manhood. Then a sudden smile broke over his face. “Why, Geoff, are you envious of Gladys, because she is going to college?” he asked, in a bantering tone. A deeper flush suffused the young man’s handsome face. Then he replied, in low but intense tones: “I hope I am not envious of any good that comes to her; I am more proud of her than I can express, and I would not have her anything but just what she is, the kindest, the smartest, and loveliest of girls; but I can’t quite stand it to be so far behind her, to have her look down upon me and despise me for being so ignorant.” “I do not think that Gladys would ever be guilty of anything so unkind. Geoff; she loves you far too well for that,” returned Mr. Huntress, gravely, but still closely watching his _protege_, for he could well understand the pain he was suffering. Geoffrey’s face kindled, and his companion could see his temples throbbing as the blood coursed more quickly through his veins at his words.