d buckets of water. We had a
fine time! Everyone turned out. We never told what we knew about it,
though!" And Penny smiled reminiscently.

"You're in the sixth form this year, aren't you?" asked Clint.

"Yes, this is my last year."

"And you've been here five already!" Clint marvelled. "My, that's a long
time, isn't it? You'll feel queer, won't you, when you don't come back
next Fall?"

Penny nodded soberly. "It'll be--funny," he agreed. "I don't suppose
you'll quite understand it, Thayer, but--well, this school is more like
a real home than any other place I know. You see, my mother died a long
while ago; I was just a toddler then; and my father married again. Then,
when I was eleven, he died and now I live with my stepmother and her
brother. He's not a bad sort of man, Uncle Steve. I just call him uncle,
of course. But my stepmother never liked me much, and then, besides,
father didn't leave much money when he died and she sort of feels that
she can't afford to pay my education. I've always had to fight to get
back here every year. Uncle Steve helped me some, but he's kind of
scared of ma and doesn't dare say much. That's why school seems like
home. When I go back to Parkerstown it's more like going on a visit than
going home. And after this year it's going to seem funny, unless I go
to college."

"But you are going, aren't you?" asked Clint anxiously.

"If I can. Mr. Fernald says he's hoping to get me a scholarship that
will pretty nearly see me through my freshman year, but there's nothing
certain about it, because there are always a lot of folks after those
scholarships and there aren't very many of them. I guess that's about
the only way I'll manage it."

"I do hope you get it," said Clint with genuine sympathy. "I suppose you
couldn't--couldn't find any way to work through, Durkin."

"I've thought of that. I don't know. I've done pretty well here, buying
and selling all kinds of things. You wouldn't think there'd be much
money in it, would you? But since my second year I've done a lot of it
and made nearly enough each year to pay my tuition. That's the only way
I've been able to stay. I guess ma argued that I'd cost her less at
school, making most of the money myself, than I would at home. Fellows
sometimes call me a 'Yankee' and a 'Shylock' and things like that
because I try to get all the money I can for a thing. But I've never
cheated anyone; and--and I've really needed the money. But I don't
believ