Weber State University - Acorn Yearbook (Ogden, UT)

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THE ACORN 5 able to attend college, if it hadn’t been for her self-sacrificing help.” “0, that’s the way you look at it. Mother says she’s a regular old miser. But look Louis, the storm is on us.” Yes, the storm so closely connected with the storms of hu- man life was already upon them. Par in the distance could be heard the faint peels of rumbling thunder, which came nearer and nearer and then broke with a terrific crash, followed by the mingling of blinding rain and wind, with the occasional flashes of lightning which illuminated the dark troubled waters. “Mollie, here’s a letter from Susie,” said Grandpa Lori- mer, coming slowly into the room, where his wife sat knitting. Bob, pale and spiritless, was sitting by the window, tapping out a tune on the pane, and did not hear his grandmother until she asked him twice if he would read the letter. “I can’t see as good as I uster, lad,” explained Mrs. Lorimer, seeing the sullen look on Bob’s face as she handed him the letter. “No wonder with that counfounded knitting always before your eyes,” thought Bob. Aloud, he read: Dear Grandma and Grandpa: “We were so sorry that you couldn’t come to com- mencement exercises, for if ever I was proud of my brother it was last night. His valedictory address was simply grand. The whole house arose in one mighty applause when he had finished, and the flowers show- ered on him!— Well, I verily believe that every hot- house in town was robbed for the occasion, and grand- ma,—would you believe it?—Louis walked home with yy Bob paused, and grandma looked up from her work and murmured, “Go on, lad.” “With beautiful Nona Everett, and left me to come home with Tony Walsh.” Aunt Isabel was there, dressed in her stillest silk and paste diamonds (they must have been paste, for Nona says they have lost all their money). It is a

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4 THE ACORN “No, it wouldn’t,” said Bob decidedly, “a single failure has blighted my whole life.” “0, come Cousin, cheer up,” exclaimed Louis encourag- ingly. You know it is not nearly so bad as all that. Why failures sometimes make—” “Don’t begin to preach Professor Spruce to me,” inter- rupted Bob, raising his thin hand with a despairing gesture. “I know, and you know, that failures are blockades to success. That kind of tale sounds all right in literature, but it faces you in life; it is a different proposition. You, although your pros- pects were not so fair at first, have everything before you now and 160 credits besides, while I have nothing.” “What about Nona Everett?” asked Louis teasingly. “We will not discuss—Miss Everett,” murmured Bob coldly. “We were speaking about failures.” “But you’re so unreasonable Bob. Now if I had been hurt—” “Yes, how much better it would have been if it had been you instead of me.” Then he added hurriedly, “Not that I want to be selfish, Lou, but you are so light hearted, and always look on the bright side of everything. “I wish it had been me,” said Louis unhesitatingly. “There’s no hope for me now,” continued Bob recklessly. “I shall go to grandma’s little hovel in that island wilderness and die a hermit, for if ever I get well—and I hope I don’t— I’ll never go back to the city and try to keep up appearances. It would simply kill me. Father says perhaps they could man- age to exist on the money he has left, for mother declares she’ll never live in the country, while I would rather live on codfish, corn bread, salt breezes and solitude than to live there now, although I suppose Grandma will drive me mad with her ever- lasting knitting.” “Well, I’ll admit that grandma don’t have elaborate ban- quets and garden parties and does an awful lot of knitting, but there’s no better woman living, and I ought to know for Susie and I have lived with her ever since we were tiny children,” ex- claimed Louis with sudden spirit. “We would never have been

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6 THE ACORN wonder that Bob is as good as what he is, having such a mother! How is Bob any way, and does he like cod- fish as well as ever; Don’t, by any means, let him see this letter. Well, grandma, I’ll not be home for about two weeks, for Nona wants me to go home with her for a visit; my light has burned so low that I can’t see the paper and so au revoir. Sue. As soon as the letter was finished, Bob grabbed his cap, and left the room. He would not stop, although he heard his grandmother say distinctly, “Poor Bob.” Whither he was go- ing, he knew not or cared. The thought uppermost in his mind was to get away from everything. Nothing mattered much now. Suddenly he stumbled over something, and looking down he saw the steps of the village church. Completely exhausted, he sank down on them, and covered his face with his hands. “Why, Mr. Lorimer, however did you walk so far, and what are you doing?” asked a child’s clear voice, and glancing up Bob saw the little girl he had met several times by the sea- shore in his evening walk. “I don’t know how I walked so far, and I don’t know what I am doing,” said Bob. The girl opened her blue eyes in astonishment, and then laughed. “Well, since you don’t know what you are doing, suppose you come into the church, and hear me rehearse the song I am going to sing Sunday,” she said. “I haven’t been in church for so long that I wouldn’t know how to act.” “The more reason you should go in now and learn, when there’s nobody to see you ’cept the organist and me.” With a sudden feeling of awe, Bob sank into the seat and heard as in a dream the words of the song: “The Lord is my Shepherd, No want shall I know, Through the valley and shadow of death though I stray, Since thou art my Guardian, no evil I fear,