"Getting a college education?" continued Grant.

"What does this mean?" asked the old lawyer, knitting his brow.

"You're not getting off the notion of going to college, I hope?"

"I should like to go to college, uncle."

"I'm glad to hear that," said G.o.dfrey Thornton, relieved. "I thought you might want to grow up a dunce, and become a bricklayer or something of that kind."

Somehow Grant's task began to seem more difficult than he had antic.i.p.ated.

"But," continued Grant, summoning up his courage, "I am afraid it will be rather selfish."

"I can't say I understand you, Grant. As long as I am willing to pay your college bills, I don't see why there is anything selfish in your accepting my offer."

"I mean as regards father and mother."

"Don't I take you off their hands? What do you mean?"

"I mean this, Uncle G.o.dfrey," said Grant, boldly, "I ought to be at work earning money to keep them. Father's income is very small, and--"

"You don't mean to say you want to give up going to college?" said G.o.dfrey Thornton, hastily.

"I think I ought to, uncle."

"Why?"

"So that I can find work and help father along. You see, I should be four years in college, and three years studying a profession, and all that time my brother and sister would be growing older and more expensive, and father would be getting into debt."

Uncle G.o.dfrey's brow wore a perceptible frown.

"Tell me who has put this idea into your head?" he said. "I am sure it isn't your father."

"No one put it into my head, Uncle G.o.dfrey. It's my own idea."

"Humph! old heads don't grow on young shoulders, evidently. You are a foolish boy, Grant. With a liberal education you can do something for your family."

"But it is so long to wait," objected Grant.

"It will be a great disappointment to me to have you give up going to college, but of course I can't force you to go," said his uncle, coldly. "It will save me three hundred dollars a year for four years-I may say for seven, however. You will be throwing away a grand opportunity."

"Don't think I undervalue the advantage of a college training, uncle," said Grant, eagerly. "It isn't that. It's because I thought I might help father. In fact, I wanted to make a proposal to you."

"What is it?"

"You say it will cost three hundred dollars a year to keep me in college?"

"Well?"

"Would you be willing to give father two hundred a year for the next four years, and let me take care of myself in some business place?"

"So this is your proposal, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"All I have got to say is, that you have got uncommon a.s.surance. You propose to defeat my cherished plan, and want me to pay two hundred dollars a year in acknowledgment of your consideration."

"I am sorry you look upon it in that light, Uncle G.o.dfrey."

"I distinctly decline your proposal. If you refuse to go to college, I wash my hands of you and your family. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Uncle G.o.dfrey," answered Grant, crestfallen.

"Go home and think over the matter. My offer still holds good. You can present yourself at college in September, and, if you are admitted, notify me."

The lawyer turned back to his writing, and Grant understood that the interview was over.

In sadness he started on his return walk from Somerset. He had accomplished nothing except to make his uncle angry. He could not make up his mind what to do.

He had walked about four miles when his attention was sharply drawn by a cry of terror. Looking up quickly, he saw a girl of fourteen flying along the road pursued by a drunken man armed with a big club. They were not more than thirty feet apart, and the situation was critical.

Grant was no coward, and he instantly resolved to rescue the girl if it were a possible thing.

CHAPTER IV -- A TIMELY RESCUE

"I will save her if I can," said Grant to himself.

The task, however, was not an easy one. The drunken man was tall and strongly made, and his condition did not appear to interfere with his locomotion. He was evidently half crazed with drink, and his pursuit of the young girl arose probably from a blind impulse; but it was likely to be none the less serious for her. Grant saw at once that he was far from being a match for the drunkard in physical strength. If he had been timid, a regard for his personal safety would have led him to keep aloof. But he would have despised himself if he had not done what he could for the girl--stranger though she was--who was in such peril.

It chanced that Grant had cut a stout stick to help him on his way.

This suggested his plan of campaign. He ran sideways toward the pursuer, and thrust his stick between his legs, tripping him up. The man fell violently forward, and lay as if stunned, breathing heavily. Grant was alarmed at first, fearing that he might be seriously hurt, but a glance a.s.sured him that his stupor was chiefly the result of his potations.

Then he hurried to overtake the girl, who, seeing what had taken place, had paused in her flight.

"Don't be frightened," said Grant. "The man can't get up at present.

I will see you home if you will tell me where you live."

"I am boarding at Mrs. Granger's, quarter of a mile back, mamma and I," answered the girl, the color, temporarily banished by fright, returning to her cheeks.

"Where did you fall in with this man?" inquired Grant.

"I was taking a walk," answered the girl, "and overtook him. I did not take much notice of him at first, and was not aware of his condition till he began to run after me. Then I was almost frightened to death, and I don't think I ever ran so fast in my life."

"You were in serious danger. He was fast overtaking you."

"I saw that he was, and I believe I should have dropped if you had not come up and saved me. How brave you were!"