Horatio Alger - Walter Sherwood's Probation

A few rods farther on he met Victor Creswell, perhaps the richest student in the junior class.

“What’s this I hear, Walter?” he asked. “Have you lost your money?”

“Some of it, I believe.”

“And you are not coming back to college?”

“I shall stay out a year. Perhaps I can come back then.”

“You needn’t leave at all. My governor allows me a hundred dollars a month for my own use—spending money, you know. I’ll give you half of it, if that will enable you to pull through.”

Walter was touched.

“You are a friend worth having, Creswell,” he said. “But I really think I shall enjoy being out of college for a year. I shall find out what is in me. But I sha’n’t forget your generous offer.”

“Better accept it, Sherwood. I can get along well enough on fifty dollars a month.”

“I won’t accept it for myself, but I’ll tell you something. My chum, Gates, is very hard pushed. You know he depends wholly on himself, and twenty-five dollars just at this time would be a godsend to him. He is worried about paying his bills. If, now, you would transfer a little at your generosity to him—”

“I don’t know him very well, but if you speak well of him that is enough. I shall be glad to help him. Let me see how much I can spare.”

He drew out a wallet, and from it four ten dollar bills.

“Here are forty dollars,” he said. “Give them to him, but don’t let him know where they came from.”

“Creswell, you’re a trump!” said Walter, shaking his hand vigorously. “You don’t know how happy you will make him.”

“Oh, that’s all right. But I’m sorry you won’t let me do something for you.”

“I will if I need it.”

“Good!” said Creswell, in a tone of satisfaction. “Now, mind, you don’t hesitate.”

Walter, happy in the happiness he was going to confer, made his way quickly to his own room. Gates sat at the table with a troubled brow, writing some figures on a piece of paper.

“What are you about, Gates?” asked his chum.

“I have been thinking.” said Gates wearily, “that perhaps I ought to do what you have decided to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Leave college.

“But why?”

“I am so troubled to pay my bills. I wrote to my uncle last week—he is a well-to-do farmer—asking him if he wouldn’t send me fifteen dollars to help pay my term bills. I promised to come and help him in the farm work during July.”

“What does he say?” asked Walter, smiling, Gates couldn’t understand why.

“That he never pays for work in advance—he doesn’t approve of it.”

“He could afford it?”

“Oh, yes; he’s got a good sum in the savings-bank, but he is a very cautious man. I don’t see how I’m going to get through. Perhaps I had better take a year away from college.”

“There is no need of that. I have some money here for you.”

“Some money for me?”

“Yes,” and Walter placed four ten-dollar bills on the table.

“But, Walter, you are in no position to lend me money.”

“True; the money doesn’t come from me.”

“But who besides you would do me such a great favor?”

“One of the rich fellows in college—no, I can’t tell you his name. You can take it without hesitation.”

“But it must have been to you that he lent it.”

“No, he understands that it is to be given to you. Will it help you?”

“Will it help me? It will carry me through gloriously,” and Gates was radiant with pleasure.

“Are you going to leave college now?”

“No; this help is providential. I will never be distrustful again.”

“I wish Creswell could see how much happiness his gift has brought with it,” thought Walter.

After a conference between Walter and his guardian it was decided that he should wait till the first of September before seeking for any business position. Walter, who was somewhat impulsive, was disposed to start at once, but Doctor Mack said: “No, you are entitled to a vacation. When your class resumes study at Euclid, it will be time for you to begin to earn your living.”

“I am not sure that I deserve a vacation,” said Walter frankly. “I have not studied as hard at I ought.”

“Very probably. You have not been in earnest. You are a year older now, and you have a better understanding of your position.”

“You are very charitable, my dear guardian,” said Walter.

Doctor Mack smiled.

“I am quite aware,” he said, “that old heads are not often to be found on young shoulders.”

“Then you think it will be right for me to enjoy myself this summer?”

“I want you to do so.”

“One of my college friends, Frank Clifford, has invited me to pass a month with him in the Adirondacks. The Cliffords have a lodge not far from Blue Mountain Lake. Frank’s mother and sisters will be abroad, and he wants me to keep him company.”

“I can think of no objection. How shall you spend your time?”

“In hunting and fishing. There are splendid chances for both up there, so Clifford says.”

“Go and have your good time. When you come back we will talk of your future plans.”

Walter’s stay was prolonged to eight weeks, and when he returned it was already nearing the end of August. He was browned by exposure, and looked the picture of health.

“Now I am ready to go to work, Doctor Mack,” he said. “Have you any plans for me?”

“How would you like to go into a drug-store? I have a college classmate who is a very successful druggist in Syracuse.”

Walter shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe I have a taste for making pills,” he said.

“I thought not. What do you think of entering a dry-goods store? I am acquainted with the head of a prominent establishment in New York.”

“It is a very respectable position, but I should feel cabined, cribbed, confined in it.”

“I am at the end of my tether. Have you formed any plans of your own?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“But you have thought somewhat on the subject?”

“Yes,” answered Walter.

“If at all possible, I shall let you have your own way.”

“You may think me foolish,” said Walter hesitatingly.

“I don’t know. Let me hear what you have to propose.”

“I thought,” said Walter eagerly, “I would like to go out West.”

“What would you do when you got there?”

“There must be lots of things to do.”

“Very likely. You might buy an ax and clear the virgin forests.”

“I am afraid I wouldn’t be a success at that.”

“You have no definite idea as to what you would do?”

“No. I could tell better when I got out there.”

“Now, about the expense. How much money would you need? You would require to live till you begin to earn something.”

“How much will it cost me to get to Chicago?”

“Say about twenty-five dollars.”

“I think, guardian, if you will advance me a hundred dollars, that will be sufficient.”

“For how long a time?”

“For a year. You see, I expect to earn my own living by the time I have spent fifty dollars in all. I should go to a cheap boarding-place, of course. I should be able to pay my way.”

“You will be content, then, with a hundred dollars, Walter?”

“Yes; perhaps I could make it do on less.”

“No; you shall have a hundred. If absolutely necessary, you can send for more.”

“No,” said Walter confidently; “I won’t do that. I shall get along somehow. I want to make a man of myself.”

“That is a commendable ambition. Still, sometimes a young man finds it hard to obtain employment. If you had a trade, now, it might be different. Suppose, for instance, you were a journeyman tailor, you could readily find a place in Chicago or any good-sized city.”