The industry and economy of James Ingram had enabled him to send his son George for two years to the Polytechnic Institute at Troy. Suddenly financial troubles made it impossible for him longer to assist his son. Mrs. Harris, very likely by Gertrude's suggestion, offered to provide funds for the third and last year at the institute, and George was delighted to complete his course. By invitation, George had spent the last days of his vacation with Gertrude in the Adirondacks, and he had accompanied Mrs. Harris and her daughters back to Albany, while the mother continued the journey leaving Gertrude at Smith College, Northampton, and Lucille at Boston. Mrs. Harris was justly proud of her girls. Their figure and dress often caused people to stop in their conversation or reading, as mother and daughters entered a car or a hotel. George Ingram returned to the institute with high hopes. A few of his plans were revealed to Gertrude on the last night of his vacation. He told her some things he never dared mention before to any one. They were on Saranac Lake and the moon seemed to change the water to silver. Their birch canoe drifted along the shore and George, dropping his oars, reversed his seat and faced the girl he loved as he told her much of his plan for life. Gertrude dipped her oars lightly in the water, George guiding the canoe beneath the forest overhanging the pebbly shore. Thus far his education had been a struggle. Time which his mates employed in recreation he had used in the steel mill. Thus he gained a trade and a knowledge of the value of time. Early he had learned that knowledge is power and that intellect and wealth rule the world. He told Gertrude that she had kindled within him the spark of ambition, and that he proposed to make life a success. "Gertrude, you must be my friend in this struggle," he added. "Yes, George, always your friend," she replied. He felt that Gertrude meant all she said. Long ago her sincerity had captured his heart. Her sympathy, her unselfishness, and her words of helpfulness had been the light by which he was shaping his course. Another school year went by swiftly, and both Lucille and Gertrude were present in June at Troy to see George Ingram graduate. It was a pity that his own father and mother, who had sacrificed so much for him, could not attend. How often his noble mother had prayed for her first-born son, and Gertrude had prayed too, but George did not know this. At times he was conscious of a strong force within, impelling him forward, whose source he could not divine, neither could he free himself from it. Fortunate person whose sails are filled with breezes from heaven, for craft of this kind go forward guided rightly, almost without the rudder's aid!