all out real careful and slow and respectful, like as though it had
been a lace valentine, and 'Good boy!' he says, and 'Bully boy!' and
'So Teacher says that one of my boys has got to go to college? One of
my boys? Well, which one? Go fetch me Daniel's report.' So I went and
fetched him Daniel's report. It was gray, I remember--the supposed
color of failure in our school--and I stood with the grin still half
frozen on my face while Pa spelt out the dingy record of poor Daniel's
year. And then, 'Oh, gorry!' says Pa. 'Run away and g'long to bed.
I've got to think. But first,' he says, all suddenly cautious and
thrifty, 'how much does it cost to go to college?' And just about as
delicate and casual as a missionary hinting for a new chapel, I
blurted out loud as a bull: 'Well, if I go up state to our own
college, and get a chance to work for part of my board, it will cost
me just $255 a year, or maybe--maybe,' I stammered, 'maybe, if I'm
extra careful, only $245.50, say. For four years that's only $982,' I
finished triumphantly.

"'_G-a-w-d!_' says Pa. Nothing at all except just, '_G-a-w-d!_'

"When I came down to breakfast the next morning, he was still sitting
there in the cat's rocking-chair, with his face as gray as his socks,
and all the rest of him--blue jeans. And my pink school report, I
remember, had slipped down under the stove, and the tortoise-shell cat
was lashing it with her tail; but Daniel's report, gray as his face,
was still clutched up in Pa's horny old hand. For just a second we
eyed each other sort of dumb-like, and then for the first time, I tell
you, I seen tears in his eyes.

"'Johnny,' he says, 'it's Daniel that'll have to go to college.
Bright men,' he says, 'don't need no education.'"