“That might have been once but it is not now. Indeed I am quite sure that a law has been passed in Ohio that a teacher cannot draw pay unless she is over eighteen.” “It is a mean old law,” scorned Rose. “Another thing,” continued Mrs. Blossom, “your Uncle Samuel is your guardian, and he did not expect, any more than we did, that you would leave school till next year; and before taking such a step you must consult him.” “Great-Uncle Samuel won’t care,” urged Rose, “and I’ve set my heart on getting through this year. Besides if I can’t teach I can go to school another year, and take Latin and German, and review the common branches.” “You write to Mr. Jarvis first, and see what he says,” and Rose knew further argument was useless. Rose waited and fretted for two weeks before an answer to her letter came, and when she read it she gave a gasp of surprise. “What do you think?” she exclaimed. “Great-Uncle Samuel says I have been a very prudent girl, while from my marks—you know I have sent them to him every quarter—I seem to have made good use of my opportunities; so if I will continue to be prudent he thinks there will be money enough for me to go to college for four years. This is what he writes: ‘Of course not to a big expensive college, that would be quite beyond your means, the Fairville Woman’s College is the one I have chosen for you. I am told that it is an excellent school, that the location is healthy, and the moral tone excellent. That you will make good use of its benefits I shall expect. Of course your Aunt Sarah Hartly ought to have seen to this for you, but as long as she wouldn’t I have done what seemed to me the best.’” “Four years in college, will not that be fine?” Silence Blossom’s own eyes were bright with pleasure. “Yes, I suppose it will,” Rose spoke slowly. “But, you know, I never had thought of such a thing as college being possible for me; I did not think that there was money enough for that. Of course I shall like it, the only thing is it will make me so old before I get to teaching.” The older women looked at Rose’s face, that had never lost its child expression, and laughed at her words. “It may be though,” she went on, “that I can put in extra studies and shorten the time.” “No, no,” protested Mrs. Patience, “to do your best work you do not want to hurry it.” Grandmother Sweet stopped her knitting. “Rose, my husband while a lad served five years as apprentice to a carpenter. His own work was of the best, and he often said that time spent learning to use one’s tools was time saved. Now, thee is planning to use books as tools, and the better thee understands them the better work thee will do.”