"
It seemed to us that the first time life ever struck Jones as a
really serious thing was when the Dean told him he must
leave school. He stared at the gray-haired man blankly, with
great eyes. "Why,--why," he faltered, "but--I haven't grad-
uated!" Then the Dean slowly and clearly explained, remind-
ing him of the tardiness and the carelessness, of the poor
lessons and neglected work, of the noise and disorder, until
the fellow hung his head in confusion. Then he said quickly,
"But you won't tell mammy and sister,--you won't write
mammy, now will you? For if you won't I'll go out into the
city and work, and come back next term and show you
something." So the Dean promised faithfully, and John shoul-
dered his little trunk, giving neither word nor look to the
giggling boys, and walked down Carlisle Street to the great
city, with sober eyes and a set and serious face.
Perhaps we imagined it, but someway it seemed to us that
the serious look that crept over his boyish face that afternoon
never left it again. When he came back to us he went to work
with all his rugged strength. It was a hard struggle, for things
did not come easily to him,--few crowding memories of
early life and teaching came to help him on his new way; but
all the world toward which he strove was of his own building,
and he builded slow and hard.
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