“Huh,” said Jim, “that’s what you hear about all of ’em. Guess it’s too high for my pocket-book, Clem. Much obliged, though.” “Don’t be a goof! This, old son, is one of life’s fine moments. Why, dog my cats, you’re only the third senior that’s ever been proposed. Either you make it in your junior year or you don’t make it at all.” “Mean that I’ve been proposed? Who did it? You?” “Exactly. And I don’t think there’s any doubt about you getting through. Hang it, show a little enthusiasm, you cold-blooded fish! Don’t you understand you’re being honored? Say ‘Hooray!’” “Yeah, but, honest, Clem, I don’t believe I could afford it. I’m sort of hard-up right now, and I guess likely I’ll be that way for some time.” “Well, but I thought-- It’s none of my business, Jim, but isn’t your father pretty comfortable?” Jim shook his head. “No, he isn’t, Clem. Not lately. I guess you don’t know what a hard time country folks have nowadays, farmers especially. They can’t get money for what they raise like they could a few years ago. Up our way most farmers raise potatoes for their main crop, but they’re a good ways from the market and lots of times it don’t pay ’em to ship ’em. Right on our place I’ve seen more than two hundred bushels raised on a little piece of ground and piled in the cellar, and they’d be there, most of ’em, in the Spring. After you’d paid for bags and carting and freight to Boston and commission to the produce man you’d be out of pocket. Same way with hogs and most everything else now. There’s money in lumber, but it’s the fellows in the cities gets it. When folks haven’t got money to spend, they don’t spend it, and dad’s business ain’t very good any more. The only way I could come back here this year was by earning some money last summer. That’s why I went to that sporting camp. You see, I could have gone to college this Fall if I’d been willing to. I’d have had a couple of conditions, though, and I thought it would be better to come here another year. Besides, I--I got to liking Alton pretty well, and when you wrote you were willing to let me come in with you I just made up my mind I’d put in another year here. But I couldn’t very well ask dad to pay for all of it. I made enough at the camp to pay my tuition, and dad he allows me ten dollars a month for extras and spending money. Now I’m in debt to you five dollars, Clem, and I’ve got to go sort of careful or I won’t have enough money to get home Christmas time.” “That’s kind of tough,” mused Clem. “Funny, but I had an idea that your folks were pretty well fixed. Anyhow, don’t you worry about getting home, old son. There’s still money in the strong-box!” “I’d borrow if I found I had to, I guess,” said Jim, “but I guess I won’t have to. Giving that money to Webb--the fellow who was up here the other day, you know,--sort of put me short, but now he’s gone I guess I won’t--”