The only daughter, Arabella, had been sent to boarding-school in Cincinnati. She married a rich man, lived in the city and, under the inspiration of English novels and the tutelage of a woman friend who visited in New York and often went abroad, was developing ideas of family and class and rank. She talked feelingly of the "lower classes" and of the duty of the "upper class" toward them. Her "goings-on" created an acid prejudice against higher education in her father's mind. As she was unfolding to him a plan for sending Hampden to Harvard he interrupted with, "No MORE idiots in my family at my expense," and started out to feed the pigs. The best terms Hampden's mother could make were that he should not be disinherited and cast off if he went to Battle Field and paid his own way. He did not tell Pauline all of this, nor did he repeat to her the conversation between himself and his father a few days before he left home. "Is 'Bella going to pay your way through?" asked his father, looking at him severely--but he looked severely at every one except Hampden's gentle-voiced mother. "No, sir." The son's voice was clear. "Is your mother?" "No, sir." "Have you got money put by?" "Four hundred dollars." "Is that enough?" "It'll give me time for a long look around." The old man drew a big, rusty pocketbook from the inside pocket of the old-fashioned, flowered-velvet waistcoat he wore even when he fed the pigs. He counted out upon his knee ten one-hundred-dollar bills. He held them toward his son. "That'll have to do you," he said. "That's all you'll get." "No, thank you," replied Hampden. "I wish no favors from anybody." "You've earned it over and above your keep," retorted his father. "It belongs to you." "If I need it I'll send for it," said Hampden, that being the easiest way quickly to end the matter. But he did tell Pauline that he purposed to pay his own way through college. "My father has a notion," said he, "that the things one works for and earns are the only things worth having. And I think one can't begin to act on that notion too early. If one is trying to get an education, why not an all-round education, instead of only lessons out of books?" From that moment Pauline ceased to regard dress or any other external feature as a factor in her estimate of Hampden Scarborough. "But your plan might make a man too late in getting a start--some men, at least," she suggested. "A start--for what?" he asked. "For fame or fortune or success of any kind." Scarborough's eyes, fixed on the distance, had a curious look in them--he was again exactly like that first view she had had of him.