"And then, too," he mused, "I have my diploma. I am a college graduate,
and that must mean something. If dad had only reproached me or
threatened some condign punishment I don't believe I should feel half as
badly as I do. But every line of that letter breathes disappointment in
me; and yet, God bless him, he tells me to come home and spend his money
there. Not on your life! If he won't disinherit me, I am going to
disinherit myself. I am going to make him proud of me. He's the best dad
a fellow ever had, and I am going to show him that I appreciate him."

And so he sat down and wrote his father this reply:


DEAR DAD:

I have your letter and check. You may not believe it, but
the former is worth more to me than the latter. Not,
however, that I spurn the check, which it was just like you
to send without a lot of grumbling and reproaches, even if I
do deserve them.

Your letter shows me what a rotten mess I have made of
myself. I'm not going to hand you a lot of mush, dad, but I
want to try to do something that will give you reason to at
least have hopes of rejoicing before I come home again. If I
fail I'll come home anyway, and then neither one of us will
have any doubt but what you will have to support me for the
rest of my life. However, I don't intend to fail, and one of
these days I will bob up all serene as president of a bank
or a glue factory. In the mean time I'll keep you posted as
to my whereabouts, but don't send me another cent until I