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chapter xxi
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chapter xxi The Romance of Readjustment As the summer drew near I began to look around for something to do. I would spend nearly one hundred and twenty-five dollars, I saw, between September and June, and half of it borrowed money. Harry,from whom I had got almost no help the first year,had just married and gone into business for himself,and he was giving me to understand in very broad hints that I need not rely on him the next year. Brother Paul had been out of work for the better part of the winter, and was trying desperately to keep alive while paying off some of the debts he had made in his period of unemployment. My friend, who had more than lived up to his promises, had, to be sure, agreed to lend me fifty dollars every year, but I was endeavoring to bring him out to Missouri , and if I succeeded he would need all he had to pay his own way. Therefore, if I meant to return to school next year I must find a way to earn enough to give me at least a good start in the fall. I discussed the question with Harvey and he made several suggestions. He himself was going to Joplin, where there was a lot of building and where he, being a carpenter, always found plenty to do. I might come along with him, and try my luck in the zinc-mines. Or, there were the Kansas wheatfields , where they paid two-fifty a day and keep. A number of students were going there summer after summer, and returning with their hides well tanned and their pockets well lined. Still, on second thought, he would not advise me to tackle harvesting. I might not be able to stand it, with my soft hands and my town breeding. But I gave very little thought to his advice.I was longing for a sight of New York. It would cost fifty dollars to go there and back, but I tried to persuade myself that I would earn enough more in the city to make it worth while. If the worst came to the worst, I could always get a job at the machine. I was known there. I had friends and old pupils. Tutoring was a possibility, particularly with my added prestige as a college man. There was no limit to the things that one could do in a large town. And deep down in my foolish heart I knew quite well that all these calcula168 tions were but a sham. In the letter I wrote to Esther I honestly confessed that if I remained away from my own people that summer I would feel like a man who was forced to work seven days in the week and would be unfit to resume work in the fall. Then Paul somehow divined my thoughts and surprised me one fine June morning with a money order for thirty dollars and a letter saying that he would not forgive me if I did not come and spend the vacations at home. Heaven alone knows where he got it, but there it was; and I sent him back a post-card with the picture of a saddled donkey and the words “Ready to Pack” underneath. The examinations had just been held, and I delayed only a few days until the instructors returned my note-books and told me my marks. Harvey was hanging over till after Commencement, because the closing days of the session were crowded with dances and entertainments and he was cleaning up a lot of money with the orchestra. He had an amused twinkle in his eye as he watched me excitedly getting ready, and every now and then he would ask:“Well, old fish, do you think we’ll see you back with us next year? Or do you think you’ve had enough of the wild and woolly West?” And when I told him with great emphasis that nothing in the world should keep me away from Missouri until I had finished the course he slapped me on the back and cried: “Now you’re talking. We’ll make a man of you yet.” Then he would add,“But, say, if those anarchists get a hold of you and keep you there, let a fellow know what’s happening to you. Maybe we can come to the rescue.” So to New York I went, and lived...