Your four hundred dollars, David, will barely get you through the
first year. After that, I shall gladly pay your expenses, for as soon
as you are admitted to the bar you are to come into my office, of
course."

David demurred.

"I shall work my way through college," he said firmly.

He next told Barnabas of his intention and the Judge's offer which he
had declined.

"I'm glad you refused, Dave. You'll only be in his office till you're
ripe fer what I kin make you. I've larnt that the law is a good
foundation as a sure steppin' stone tew it, so you kin hev a taste of
it. But the Jedge ain't a-goin' to pay yer expenses."

"I don't mean that he shall," replied David. "I want to pay my own
way."

"I'm a-goin' to send you tew college and send you right. No starvin'
and garret plan fer you. I've let Joe and the Jedge do fer you as much
as they're a-goin' to, but you're mine from now on. It's what I'd do
fer my own son if he cared fer books, and you're as near to me ez ef
you were my son."

"It's too much, Uncle Barnabas."

"And, David," he continued, unheeding the interruption, "I hope you'll
really be my son some day."

A look of such exquisite happiness came into the young eyes that
Barnabas put out his hand silently. In the firm hand-clasp they both
understood.

"I am not going to let you help me through college, though, Uncle
Barnabas. It has always been my dream to earn my own education. When
you pay for anything yourself, it seems so much more your own than
when it's a gift."

"Let him, Barnabas," again counseled Uncle Larimy. "Folks must feed
diff'rent. Thar's the sweet-fed which must allers hev sugar, but
salt's the savor for Dave. He's the kind that flourishes best in the
shade."

Janey wrote to Joe of David's plan, and there promptly came a check
for one thousand dollars, which David as promptly returned.

CHAPTER II

A few days before the time set for his departure David set out on a
round of farewell visits to the country folk. It was one of those
cold, cheerless days that intervene between the first haze of autumn
and the golden glow of October. He had never before realized how
lonely the shiver of wind through the poplars could sound. Two
innovations had been made that day in the country. The rural delivery
carrier, in his little house on wheels, had made his first delivery,
and a track for the new electric-car line was laid through the sheep
meadow. This inroad of progress upon the