The Jester of St. Timothys | Page 3

on here and tutor Lawrence this
summer and at the same time pay all my living expenses. It's been more
of a help than you know--to Lawrence as well as to me."
"You're both good boys," said Mr. Beasley. "But it seems like you're
too shy and quiet ever to make much of a lawyer, Irving--or a teacher,"
he added, in candid criticism.
Irving blushed. "Maybe I'll get over that in time, Mr. Beasley."
"You had better," observed the storekeeper. "It's of no manner of use to
anybody--not a particle. Lawrence, now, is different."
Yes, Lawrence was different; the fact impressed itself that evening on
Irving when his brother came home from the haying field with his
uncle. Lawrence was big and ruddy and laughing; Irving was slight and
delicate and grave. The two boys went together to their room to make
themselves ready for supper.
"We finished the north meadow to-day," said Lawrence,--"the whole of
it. So don't blame me if I go to sleep over French verbs this evening."
"I'll tell you something that will wake you up," Irving replied. "I'm
going to teach at St. Timothy's School--in New Hampshire. So your
going to college is sure, and we'll be only a couple of hours apart."
"Oh, Irv!" In Lawrence's exclamation there was more expressiveness,
more joy, than in all his brother's carefully restrained statement. "Oh,
Irv! Isn't it splendid! I think you're the finest thing--!" Lawrence
grasped Irving's hand and at the same time began thumping him on the
back. Then he opened the door and shouted down the stairs.
"Uncle Bob! Aunt Ann! Irv has some great news to-night."

Mrs. Upton put her head out into the hall; she was setting the table and
held a plate of bread.
"What is it, Irv? Have you--have you had a letter?"
There was an anxious, almost a regretful note in her voice.
"Yes," said Irving. "I'll tell you about it when I come down."
At the supper table he expounded all the details. Like Mr. Beasley, his
uncle and his aunt had never heard of St. Timothy's School. Irving was
able to enlighten them. At college he had become familiar with its
reputation; it was one of the big preparatory schools in which the
position of teacher had seemed to him desirable almost beyond the
hope of attainment.
He recited the terms which had been offered and which he had accepted:
nine hundred dollars salary the first year, with lodging, board, washing
all provided--so that really it was the equivalent of fourteen or fifteen
hundred dollars a year. And then there would be the three months'
vacation, in which he could prosecute his law studies and earn
additional money.
"Sounds good," said Mr. Upton.
"Of course I'm very glad," said Mrs. Upton. "But how we shall miss
you boys! I've got used to having Irving away,--but to be without
Lawrence, too--"
"Yes," said her husband with a twinkle in his eyes, "we certainly shall
miss Lawrence--especially in haying time. I'm glad you didn't get this
news till most of the hay crop was in. No more farming for you this
year, Lawrence."
"Why, but there's all the south meadow uncut--"
"I'll handle that. As long as there was so much doubt as to whether
you'd be able to go to college or not, I felt that you might be making

yourself useful first of all and studying only in the odd moments. Now
it's different; you've got to settle down to hard study and nothing else.
And Irving had better devote himself entirely to you, and leave Mr.
Beasley to struggle along without any college help."
"I don't believe he'll miss me very much," Irving admitted. "And you're
right, Uncle Bob; I can accomplish a great deal more working with
Lawrence this next month. I ought to be able to get him entered in
regular standing."
"If I can do that," cried Lawrence, "perhaps I'll be able to earn my way
as Irv did--tutoring and so on--and not have to call on you or him for
any help."
"What on earth should I do with nine hundred a year?" Irving
exclaimed.
"Save it for your law school fund," said Lawrence.
Irving shrugged his shoulders grandly. "Oh, I can earn money."
Lawrence gave him an affectionate push. "Tut!" he said. "Be good to
yourself once in a while."
It was a happy family that evening. The uncle and the aunt rejoiced in
the good news, even while regretting the separation.
Mr. Upton, the younger brother of the boys' father, who had been the
village clergyman, shared his brother's tastes; he read good books, he
would travel to hear a celebrated man speak, he had ideas which were
not bounded by his farm. He had encouraged Irving as well as
Lawrence to