had got for the painting. "I was surprised when you sent me a photograph
full as big. I don't let every one in here, but a good many of the ladies
are artists themselves-amateurs, I guess--and first and last they all
want to see it. I guess they'll all want to see you, Mr. Westover.
They'll be wild, as they call it, when they know you're in the house.
Yes, I mean Jeff shall go to college."

"Bowdoin or Dartmouth?" Westover suggested.

"Well, I guess you'll think I'm about as forth-putting as I was when I
wanted you to give me a three-hundred-dollar picture for a week's board."

"I only got a hundred and sixty, Mrs. Durgin," said Westover,
conscientiously.

"Well, it's a shame. Any rate, three hundred's the price to all my
boarders. My, if I've told that story once, I guess I've told it fifty
times!"

Mrs. Durgin laughed at herself jollily, and Westover noted how prosperity
had changed her. It had freed her tongue, it has brightened her humor, it
had cheered her heart; she had put on flesh, and her stalwart frame was
now a far greater bulk than he remembered.

"Well, there," she said, "the long and the short of it is, I want Jeff
should go to Harvard."

He commanded himself to say: "I don't see why he shouldn't."

Mrs. Durgin called out, "Come in, Jackson," and Westover looked round and