surprised if that was what made Nannie a little shy and stiff. Did she
tell you about Oscar's tragedy?"

"Not until I found it out myself. I somehow had the feeling that I
wasn't so gladly welcomed as I used to be. And Mrs. Marsh was changed
and saddened. But the little chair was no longer by the window; and I
knew the mother grieved. Dear little Hattie, always so patient and so
pleased with every little thing. One day Nannie was walking home with
me, and we met Oscar. After that I knew. I will own up, when I saw his
condition, I--I told you I was a coward--I simply turned and ran away.
To be sure, Nannie had seen him also, and said suddenly, 'Good-by,
Connie; I can't go any farther'; but that is only a mitigation, not an
excuse. I was so ashamed of myself I hardly slept all night. Nannie was
coming to see me the next afternoon. I was awfully afraid she wouldn't
come, and almost as afraid to see her when she did come. And when she
began to talk, I couldn't think of anything better than to kiss her,
with my eyes shut--as if I were going to have a tooth pulled! We both
cried. It gave me a weird, earthquaky sensation to see Nannie cry. I had
never, through all our years of intimacy, seen her cry. But almost
immediately she pulled herself together, and said, 'Well, I'm not going
to stand it. Daddy has found a place in the country where Oscar can go
and learn the business and then be a partner. If he has a little
property of his own he will stop wanting to overturn things so bad.
So--he's going; and he did seem to feel bad about making aunty so
wretched; and he's promised to give up drinking _and_ talking; so I
don't know what I'm crying about, unless it is having to give up going
to college with you! But it's only putting it off for a year. I'll make
it all back by then; I'm going into the furniture factory this summer.'
But when I saw the family I realized for the first time what this
education, which we take so lightly, indeed often with weariness, means
to those who have to deny themselves for it. The love of it was a
passion with Nannie's people. They seemed to think a college was a
wonderful place, where one learned all the secrets of life and art and
knowledge. When they spoke of it their voices would drop reverentially,
as they dropped when they spoke of heaven. To have this glory for Nannie
put off another year seemed cruel to them. 'Well,' I suggested to Mr.
Marsh, 'at least it will be I who will have to miss her,