Christian fiction; Domestic fiction; Families -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
When did it happen? Was it much? Was his position higher, and did he
have to work any harder?
“Yes, and no,” he answered calmly, as if a raised salary were an
everyday happening, and he were quite apart from it in his thoughts.
“I shall have practically the same work, but more responsibility.
It’s a kind of responsibility I like, however, because I know what
ought to be done, and they’ve given me helpers enough to have it
done right. The salary will be a thousand dollars a year more; and I
suppose, if you should want to go back to college by and by and get
your diploma, we could manage it.”
“Indeed, no!” interrupted Cornelia with a rising color in her cheeks
and an unexplained light in her eyes. “I’m quite well enough off
without a diploma, and I’m too deep in business now to go back and
get ready for it. What’s a diploma, anyway, but a piece of paper? I
never realized how trivial, after all, the preparations for a thing
are compared to the work itself. Of course it’s all right to get
ready for things, but I had practically done most of my preparation
at college, anyway. The rest of the year would have been mostly plays
and social affairs. The real work was finished. And, when I came
home, I was no more ready to go out into the world and do the big
things I had dreamed than I was when I entered college. It took life
to show me what real work meant, and how to develop a life-ideal. I
truly have got more real good from you dear folks here at home than
in all my four years’ course together. Though I’m not saying anything
against that, either, for of course that was great. But, father, I’m
not sorry I had to come home. These months here in this dear little
house with my family have been wonderful, and I wouldn’t lose them
out of my life for all the college courses in existence.”
She was suddenly interrupted by resounding applause from her brothers
and sister, and smothered with kisses from Louise, who sprang from
her seat to throw her arms around her neck.
“We all appreciate what you have done for us and your home,” said the
father with a light in his eyes. “Your mother will tell you how much
when she has an opportunity to see what you have done here.”
“But, dad,” interrupted Carey, as he saw his father, rise and glance
at his watch, “aren’t you going to tell us about your raise? Gee!
That’s something that oughtn’t to be passed over lightly like a
summer rain. How did it happen?”
The father smiled dreamily.
“Another time. I must hurry now. I have an appointment I must keep,
and I may not be home till late tonight. Don’t wait up for me. It
was just a promotion; that’s all. You won’t forget about the supper
tomorrow night, Cornelia; and be sure to get plenty of flowers.”
He hurried out, still with that preoccupied air, leaving his children
sitting bewildered at the table.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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